Prologue Different. The same. . . . That's my answer if you ask how I am after The Invisible Beast broke into our house, and our world. [p19] Garvey I ride the ripples of song. That may sound silly but singing heals my heart. And in a way, music gave me the dad I needed. [p20] Week-Night Lesson Dad's fingers on mine, he shows me the way to play. My new guitar is quickly becoming a friend and, finally, so is Dad. [p26] Compared to What Later, I catch Mom crying in the kitchen. I look for onions, but don't see one. "Mom?" "Sorry, Son," she says, grabbing a tissue. "I was just thinking about students on breakfast and free lunch programs. How will they eat with schools closed?" I never thought about that. I never had to. Mom sees me bite my lip. "It's okay, Garvey. We teachers will figure something out, somehow. It's what we do." Mom manages the shadow of a smile so I'll believe her like I need to. What else can I do? God, I hope you're listening. [p47] Lock What? Our governor says beginning tonight, our state is hitting the switch, shutting down everyday life until further notice. What? No work, no school, no chorus, no baseball with Joe, no meals with Manny, no out, only in, except for stocking up on supplies till this storm passes. At least it's warm enough here in California to hang out in the backyard if indoors gets boring, but how long will this be? Three weeks? Four? Mom's not sure. "We'll get back to normal. Trust me. Not even the worst hurricane can last for long." [p55] Aisle Five The Food Mart is filled with a stampede of shoppers trampling each other for--toilet paper? This is crazy! Get me out of here! Back home, Angie helps unpack the groceries while Mom and Dad smuggle dark whispers upstairs, as if their worry has no echo. Angie and I share the truth with one long look: This Invisible Beast must be worse than we thought. But we don't dare say it out loud. [p56] Cough This morning, Dad coughs. It's probably nothing, right? Just a normal cold. Or no. Worry grabs my gut strangling me from the inside. Breathe, I tell myself, then I text Joe, next Manny. Joe: dw chill Manny: sry fx Fingers crossed, I chill--and pray. [p107}} Excerpted from Garvey in the Dark by Nikki Grimes All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.