What Doesn't Kill Us--A McKenzie Novel by David Housewright (best books for 7th graders TXT) 📕

club? What did she do? Where did she go? Did she have a special friend?”

“What reason would I give for asking those questions?”

“What about your sister? Maybe she has some insights.”

“What part of keeping this private don’t you get?”

“I don’t know if you can keep it private, Dave, I’m just saying.”

“I can try.”

“All right, all right. What exactly do you want me to do?”

“Never mind Mom. Reach out to these people, my second family.”

“Why can’t you do that?”

“Because I don’t want them reaching out to me.”

“You don’t want one family intruding on the other.”

“I don’t want strangers with DNA evidence stating that we’re related wanting to become part of my family because it isn’t just my family, you know? I can’t make a decision that affects everybody without asking permission.”

“You’re not going to ask permission, are you?”

“Hell no.”

“Okay.”

“What I’m asking—it’s a big favor.”

“Okay.”

“I’m asking that you contact these people pretending to be me. Not me, but…”

“Dee Dee.”

“Yes. I want you to tell them that you’re Dee Dee.”

At the time I thought, What could it hurt?

Deese had given me his member ID and password so I was able to access his account from my own computer. Most of Deese’s eleven hundred and sixty-four long-lost relatives included their full name, sex, birth year, and city, state, and country in their profiles. Some even uploaded their photographs. His half sibling did not, listing only his name and location—Charles K., Orono, MN. It made me go “Hmm.” Still, how hard could this be, I thought. Given the prevalence of social and business media sites like Facebook and LinkedIn it shouldn’t be too difficult to locate a Charles K. in Orono, should it? Yeah, maybe I didn’t believe it, either.

The DNA site also reported that Deese had a first cousin who shared 13.1 percent of his DNA who listed himself as Marshall from Minneapolis. I didn’t know if that was a first name or a last name, yet it didn’t matter, I told myself. The fact that he existed indicated that Charles K.’s father must have had a sibling, who helped produce a cousin for Charles to play with.

Finally, there was a second cousin with 6.11 percent of Deese’s DNA named Elliot, who revealed nothing in his profile including his location. Again, it could have been a first name or a last. Either way, I figured Elliot was the child of Marshall or of God knows how many other King relatives who were not listed on the DNA site.

Before attempting a computer search, however, I messaged each of Dee Dee’s relatives:

My name is McKenzie. I live in Minneapolis. I apologize for imposing on you, but apparently we are related. I would like to learn how. I promise that I am asking for nothing from you except enlightenment. We can communicate on this website or in any other way that you are comfortable with. Thank you for your courtesy.

I made a sandwich. Elliot had sent a reply by the time I returned to the computer.

Oh. My. God. You popped up on my feed a week ago but I was afraid of contacting you. I mean, you’re obviously related to me but you’re not, you know? Is McKenzie your first or last name?

It occurred to me then that if Elliot or any of the other relatives were smart, they could easily research me the way I intended to research them. That was part of the favor, though, wasn’t it?

McKenzie is my last name, what everyone calls me including my wife. What about Elliot?

My first name. Everyone I’ve seen out here is related to me. I mean I know who they are. You’re a secret.

Yes, for forty-four years.

Are you forty-four?

I am. I’m as old as the dirt in your backyard.

LOL. You’re actually a year younger than my dad, although older than my aunts and uncles.

I wrote—Who are your aunts and uncles?—and hit send. I knew immediately that it was a mistake. I was pushing too hard too fast. Probably Elliot thought so as well. It took a few long moments before he replied.

When I decided to take the DNA test my father told me to be careful what I revealed about myself to strangers.

That’s very good advice. I probably would have told you the same thing myself.

Do you have children?

I flashed on Erica, Victoria, and Katie yet typed No just the same.

I was an only child. My mother died when I was twelve and my father, the man I thought was my father, passed about ten years ago. I didn’t have any other family that I knew of. When I did the DNA test, I thought I would only find sixth or seventh cousins. Imagine my surprise.

I waited a few more long moments before Elliot replied.

I can’t imagine. I have no idea what you must be going through.

I admit I’ve had my ups and downs at first. Now I just want information.

Would you like to meet?

Yes, but you should check with your father first. I’m sure he’d have a few words to say about meeting strangers.

Yes, he would. You should have heard the lecture he and Mom gave me before I went to college freshman year. I didn’t know they had such a low opinion of men.

I’m confused. You’re not a man?

LOL. I get that a lot because of my name. My friends mostly call me Ellie.

Well, Ellie, I would very much like to meet you. But I want you to feel safe; I want you to feel comfortable. You pick the location and bring as many friends and relatives as you want.

Now you really do sound like my dad.

Which is what brought me to Northfield, about a forty-five-minute drive south of Minneapolis if you obeyed the prevailing traffic laws.

MONDAY, MAY 18 (LATE AFTERNOON)

I ate a pretty good burrito in Kahlo Restaurante Mexicano while I waited for Elliot, although that’s not where we had arranged to meet. Instead, she asked me to find her at CakeWalk, where we could get a decent cup of coffee along