My head started spinning. I got up and dragged myself to the bathroom. The scale was out where I had left it and I got on. Two more pounds were gone. I turned toward the toilet and went for a real long time and then drank from the faucet avoiding my face in the mirror. The water felt good in my mouth---but not in my stomach. I was pretty sure I knew what was happening ... my father had put a curse on me by writing a book on diabetes.

Seeing the three names on the grave stone reminded Izzy of the flower she carried. Today was June 7. Carefully she set the flower on the patch of ground. "I don't know if you're even in there, Damien. But happy seventeenth birthday anyway. I hope that somewhere there's a celebration for you. And I hope that you're at peace with your father and mother." And then there was an unmistakable noise behind her. She turned quickly to see a stranger. He was young enough to be a teenager, but he was thin and sickly and his clothes and hair were drenched from the rain. His face was almost frightening....

Illustrated historical fiction for young readers. Story of Sybil Ludington