Part One

At the scoop where one side of Ganey Hill and the other side of Sappor Hill meet, sits a house. It is not bombastic and doesn't flirt like the other houses that saunter their way up the Hills. Living in the house is a woman in her early fifties. Her name is Mrs. Oliver. She dotes on her windowbox gardens and fine collection of sugar bowls, and these things keep her busy. Her tiny dog named Hanover sleeps in the crook of her knees at night and every morning sits on her toes that peek out of blue satin bedroom slippers while she eats toast and a banana. He makes sure she is never alone, and that there are never any crumbs on the floor.

Once a week or so the front door shakes with a steady, sharp knock. Invariably it occurs while she takes her afternoon tea in the sunroom facing Sappor Hill. She answers it faithfully though she knows only an empty stoop will greet her. She is never surprised or angered, only curious. But on one Tuesday afternoon as she approaches a freshly rapped door, the usual troupe of footsteps tapping down three weather beaten steps and onto the sidewalk, are absent. Hanover stays quiet but close, sniffing and grunting at the sliver of light winking through the mail slot as someone on the other side of it sways back and forth.

Mrs. Oliver is a brave woman, but one who takes comfort in familiarity. The rapping on the door keeps the same rhythm from week to week, just as the tempo of the footsteps. This week is no different, only the footsteps have gone silent. Her curiosity rises to bewilderment. She wraps her knotty fingers around the door handle, squeezing it like she would the hand of an old friend she hadn't seen in years, before giving it a hard turn and pull.

She and Hanover stare at a young boy. His hair points in all different directions, sticking up and out with no care for the authority of a comb. He rolls his lips inward into a nervous smile and looks down at Hanover. Hanover promptly sits by Mrs. Oliver's right foot, curling his tail around the back of her heel .

The boy looks up at Mrs. Oliver. Showing off teeth that also point in all different directions, he tells her, "I'm Jack."