League of American Traitors

Chapter Two

"Brisk day," said Richard Corker. Jasper hadn't seen him since his mom's funeral, where the bank's agent had gone over the finer points of a sheriff sale in annoying detail. Jasper had forgotten how much the man looked like a pig. "Should we go inside and wait for Ms. Tallison?"

"Who?"

"Janine Tallison—your guardian. She'll be meeting us here to sign the papers on your behalf."

Jasper zipped his fly. He eyed the distance to the front door. He could definitely outrun the guy and lock him out. "What if I don't leave?"

"How do you mean?"

"Like, what if I just stay? What can you do?"

Mr. Corker scrunched up his pig face. "The police would escort you out—but that won't be necessary. Ms. Tallison said that she would be taking you to your foster family today."

Jasper caught sight of the gazebo in the backyard, and the pond behind it. The thought of another family using it brought on a familiar gag reflex. Or maybe it was hearing the phrase "foster family."

"I need another week," Jasper said. He had no idea where he was going with this, just that he needed to stall. Big time.

"Why?" Mr. Corker asked.

"Because . . ." he said, floundering for something—anything. "Because I am emotionally unstable. Any paperwork signed on my behalf wouldn't be admissible in a court of law."

Thank you Law and Order for that one.

"I don't think that's how it works," Mr. Corker said.

"Listen, Richard—can I call you Richard?

"It's Dick, actually."

Yes it was.

"Listen, Dick," Jasper said. The plan was forming now—he could see it taking shape as his brain came back online. Money . . . he'd need money. But first he had to get this guy to leave. "I am on the edge of a breakdown, okay? I am not leaving this house today. That's just a fact. Now, you can call the cops, in which case I will totally freak out and make a scene—lots of screaming and yelling and cursing, at you—and you and Janine will feel like horrible people—"

Dick's cell phone went off. He fumbled for it and answered, "Hello. Ah—yes. Hello, Janine." He listened for a while. "I see. Ah ha. Well, that's bound to happen in your line of work." Dick nodded. Looked at his watch. "No, that won't work, my afternoon is booked. No—tomorrow, too. What about Friday? Same time? Okay. Good. Yes, yes, I'll see you then."

Jasper was trying to do the math in his head. Friday. Three days. That should be enough time.

Dick put the phone back in his pocket. "It seems Ms. Tallison got held up in court, but is available this Friday. Is that agreeable to you?"

Jasper nodded.

"Friday, then." Dick got back into his car. "We'll be back Friday,

Jasper sucked in a lungful of cold air. "Right. Okay—thanks."

Richard Corker did a five-point turn and drove away.

Jasper charged his cell phone in the Volvo's ancient cigarette lighter port and then took pictures of every item in his house. He walked to the far corner of the property and found an unsecured Wi-Fi signal, and posted the images on Craigslist. By dinner, he had twenty interested buyers. Anything he wanted to keep he shoved into the Volvo, starting with his mom's portrait.

Jasper didn't have an exact destination in mind, so he packed a suitcase for each season; everything else went on Craigslist. When he came across the black suit he'd worn to both his parents' funerals, he wadded it into a ball and threw it in the fire.

A card fluttered out as the clothes landed and went up in flames.

CYRUS BARNES

Attorney-at-Law

Jasper turned it over and saw faint lettering on the back.

THE LEAGUE

He wondered what it had to do with the Latin phrase tattooed on his dad's left forearm—Nil Desperandum. Jasper thought about Googling it, then remembered that he didn't actually care. His dad was dead, and his secrets could rot with him.

****

By Thursday night, every couch, bureau, desk, lamp, and table was sold. The back porch swing went, too, so Jasper counted his money on the cold stone patio. He'd netted almost six grand—more than enough to keep the Volvo gassed up for wherever he wanted to go.

The wind shifted and blew the gazebo screen door open. Jasper had avoided it because going in probably would induce an all-out breakdown. Definitely would. The tiny building had been their temple. She'd written all her books there, Jasper curled up on the squeaky couch near her desk, lost in some fantasy book that was way better than his real life.

Jasper walked across the yard and stepped inside. He sat in her worn chair and ran his fingers over the writing desk. He could easily have gotten eight hundred for it, but the thought had never even crossed his mind. He opened the drawer and found a copy of her first novel. The heroine died at the end; he'd always hated that.

Underneath the book was an envelope. To Jasper, Happy Birthday.

He swallowed. She'd died a week before his seventeenth birthday.

My dearest son,

You will not always be a young man. A day is coming when you will be asked to act much older than you are, and I want you to be ready. Do not shy away from difficult tasks, for anything worth doing in this life will be difficult; do not give in to your emotions, lest they lead you astray. Do not fear the unknown, but make it known.

                        Above all, remember who you are: my son.

All my love,

Your mother

            Jasper reread it three times, then tucked it inside the book and left.

That night, he cried himself to sleep.

_______________

Dear Awesome Reader,

Hey. Thanks for checking out this preview—seriously. Hopefully, you didn't totally hate it; maybe, you wanted to keep reading; ideally, you MUST KNOW how this kid is connected to Benedict Arnold and you now head over to www.matthew-landis.com/books and preorder the crap out of it.

JK. But seriously.

I'd love if you'd share this preview with anybody who likes history or thrillers or duels or National Treasure. If you happen to know Nicholas Cage, tweet him a link.

And please wait with nail-biting anticipation for August 8th, when Jasper's quest to conquer his ancestor's epic treachery hits bookstores everywhere.

- Matt