Home: Tobin, Colorado; lives with parents; only child
C. Client was also questioned about the initial contact moment. Detailed description has been added to the file. [
D. Initial contact is categorized as a PC 17C.
From TFS Point of Contact Catalog:
PC 17C—A PC 17C is the sudden appearance of a phone book. As of the last catalog update, a PC 17C has been the instrument of contact 21 times, most recently in cases 3098, 3105, and 3111. [
The appearance of the phone book has occurred by various methods. Clients have describe some of the following:
• falling from the ceiling
• squeezing out of a faucet (bathtub and sink)
• appearing with a flash in a microwave.
E. As in the previous cases, as soon as client removed the phone number from the book, the book disappeared. In this case, removal was achieved by tearing out the page. [
F. Phase 2 of contact — calling us — occurred approximately five minutes later via pay phone at the Tobin City Library on Wednesday, September 28.
G. Detailed description of the call is attached to this report. [
H. END OF REPORT
copies to: file, Ronan, Mom
Excerpt from the TPS Encyclopedia
POINT of CONTACT
Term describing how clients receive information allowing them to contact TFS for help.
There has been much speculation, and more than a few wild guesses, concerning the Point of Contact. Here are the facts:
The Point of Contact event started with the very first TFS client (long before it was actually called TFS), and has continued on every case for two hundred and fifty years.
Some of the events are more spectacular than others, ranging from near hurricanes to the information quietly appearing at the client’s bedside. Extensive research has been done to try and correlate the intensity of the contact with the results of the case that followed, but no trends have been detected.
TFS has never controlled the Point of Contact event. In that, we are as in the dark as to when a new client will contact us as they are to our existence prior to the event.
The source of the Point of Contact event remains unknown, but it is not a stretch to say that it must be connected with whatever it was that picked our family for this job.
3
Eric Morrison didn’t sleep very well that night. Over and over he dreamt about the air expanding in front of him and spitting out an object. Sometimes it was the book. Sometimes it was his missing house key. Sometimes it was his mom, who was still gone when he came home from the library.
The worst time, though, had woken him up screaming. In the dream, the bubble had grown impossibly large, knocking over bookcases, and causing Mrs. Kim to say, “Mr. Morrison, if you will not be quiet, your library card will be revoked!” Then the air ripped open and out jumped Peter Garr.
Eric woke with a mixture of relief and dread Thursday morning. He was happy to get away from his dreams but not looking forward to what the new day may bring.
After he dressed, he found his father sitting in the kitchen. On the table was the same box of bland cereal they’d been eating every morning since Eric’s mom had disappeared.
“Morning, Dad.”
“Good morning. Sleep okay?”
“I guess.” Eric got a bowl out of the cabinet and filled it with cereal and a splash of milk. He glanced over at his dad, knowing he should just keep his mouth shut, but not able to stop himself. “Have you heard from Mom?”
His father looked surprised by the question. “She’s fine.”
“So you did talk to her?”
For half a second his father’s expression seemed frozen. It was the same thing that happened every time Eric brought up his mom. It was like his dad drifted off to another planet.
When his father finally turned his head and looked at Eric, he said, “What day are they mailing out report cards?”
“I don’t care what month it is. I would like to know when we should be expecting it. Please check with the office and report back to me tonight.”
His father worked at an accounting firm and was always saying things like “report back” or “give me a summary.”
“They might not even know yet.”
“Eric, of course they know. Check.”
“Yes, Dad,” Eric said.
The trip to school proved to be equally wonderful. He’d decided to ride his bike that day. So far that hadn’t stopped him from being picked on when he went home, but maybe if he rode the long way back, he could avoid trouble entirely. If he did, that would be two days in a row. Peter had apparently been too busy sniffing around the library to bother with him the previous afternoon.
The plan was a good one and would have worked fine if his bike chain hadn’t snapped in two just as he passed the halfway point to school. Of course it happened as he was coming down a small hill and was going pretty fast. And, of course, his bike only had a pedal brake, meaning he had no way to stop.
He turned toward the curb, hoping he could rub his front tire against the concrete and slow down. Instead, he hit a rock, spinning his handlebars to the right. The next thing he knew, he was sprawled across the hood of an old Ford Mustang parked at the side of the road while his bike lay in the gutter.
With what felt like a slightly sprained thumb and a sore knee, he walked the bike the rest of the way to school, getting there just after the tardy bell rang.
He quickly locked it to the rack, knowing he probably didn’t need to — who was going to steal a bike with no chain? — then sprinted to the lockers to grab the book he needed for first-period math. But when he got there, he found that someone had stuck used bubble gum all over the dial of his lock.
“Great,” he groaned.
“Mr. Morrison, you are already three minutes late for class.” Mrs. Trenton, the girls’ P.E. teacher and morning campus monitor, was standing at the end of the row of lockers, one eyebrow raised.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Trenton,” he said. “My bike broke on the way here and now somebody put gum all over this.” He moved the lock so she could see what he was talking about.
“This is the third tardy in the last six school days. I let you go on the last two but I’m afraid I’m going to have to send you to the office this time.”
“No, please. Just let me go to class. I promise this will be the last time.”
She shook her head knowingly from side to side. “I’ve heard that story a million times so I know it’s a
