The Name of This Book Is Secret
Read The Name of This Book Is Secret Online
Authors: Pseudonymous Bosch
Copyright © 2007 by Pseudonymous Bosch
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Or Else!
Little, Brown and Company
(they’re neither little nor brown, but that’s another story.)
Hachette Book Group
237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017
Visit our Web site at
www.hachettebookgroup.com
First eBook Edition: September 2008
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
That is, if you believe in coincidences.
Cover illustration and interior illustrations copyright © 2007 by Gilbert Ford
ISBN: 978-0-316-03992-5
Contents
FOR W.P. MAY
Good.
Now I know I can trust you.
You’re curious. You’re brave. And you’re not afraid to lead a life of crime.
But let’s get something straight: if, despite my warning, you insist on reading this book, you can’t hold me responsible for the consequences.
And, make no bones about it, this is a very dangerous book.
No, it won’t blow up in your face. Or bite your head off. Or tear you limb from limb.
It probably won’t injure you at all. Unless somebody throws it at you, which is a possibility that should never be discounted.
Generally speaking, books don’t cause much harm. Except when you read them, that is. Then they cause all kinds of problems.
Books can, for example, give you ideas. I don’t know if you’ve ever had an idea before, but, if you have, you know how much trouble an idea can get you into.
Books can also provoke emotions. And emotions sometimes are even more troublesome than ideas. Emotions have led people to do all sorts of things they later regret—like, oh, throwing a book at someone else.
But the main reason this book is so dangerous is that it concerns a secret.
A
big
secret.
It’s funny the way secrets work. If you don’t know about a secret, it doesn’t bother you. You go about your business without a care in the world.
La la la,
you sing. Everything’s fine and dandy. (Maybe you don’t actually sing “la la la,” but you know what I mean.)
But as soon as you hear about the secret, it starts to nag at you.
What is this secret?
you wonder.
Why am I not supposed to know about it? Why is it so important?
Suddenly, you’re dying to know what the secret is.
You beg. You plead. You threaten. You cajole. You promise never to tell anyone else. You try anything and everything. You dig into the secret-keeper’s belongings. You pull his or her hair. And when that doesn’t work, you pull your own.
Not knowing a secret is just about the worst thing in the world.
No, I can think of one thing worse.
Knowing a secret.
Read on, if you must.
But, remember, I warned you.
X
xxx xxxx x xxxx, xxxxx xxx x xxx xxx x xxxx. Xxxx xxxx xxxx x xxxxx xxxx xx Xxxxxxx. Xxxx xxxxx xxxxx Xxxxxxxxx xxx Xxx-Xxxxxx. Xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxx xxx. Xxxxx’x xxxxxxxxxxxxx, xx x xxxxxxxxx.
Xxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxx x Xxxx xx xxxxxx xxx. Xxxx x xxxxxxx. Xxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxx xx Xxxxxx Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx? Xxxxxxxxxxxxx. Xxxxxxxxxxx. X xxxx xxxx xxxx xxxxxx xxx xx xxxxx. Xxxxxxx xxxxxx, xxxxxxx xxxxxxxx x xxxxxxxxxx. Xxxxx xxxxx. Xxxxx.
Xxxxxxx xx, xxxx xxxxx, xxxxx xx xxx.
Xxxx’x?, xxx xxx.
Xxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxx’x...Xxxxx xxxxxxx Xxxxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxxxxx xx, xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxx xxxx x xxxxxxxxxxx...Xxxxx xxxxxxxx’x xx xxxxx xxx xxxx xxxx xxx Xxxx.
“Xxxx,” Xxxxxxxxx xxxxx, “Xxx xxxxxx?”
“Xx!” Xxx-Xxxxxx xxxx.
Xxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxx; x xxxx xx xxxxxx xxx. Xxxx x xxxxxxx. Xxxxxx xxxxxxxx Xxxxx’x xx xxxxxx, xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx? Xxxx xxxxxxxxx. Xxxxxxxxxxx. (Xxxxxx xxx xxx xxxxxxx xxxx xxxxxx.) Xxxx, Xxx-Xxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxx xxxxx xx x x xxxxxx xx xxxx. Xxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx x xxxxxxxxxx. Xxxxx xxxxx, Xxxxx. Xxxx x xxxx, xxxxx.
Xxxxxxx, xx xxxxxxxx xxxxx. Xxxxx xx xxxxx, xxxx xxxx x xxxxx xxx xxxx. Xxxxxxxxx, Xxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxx xxx, xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxx xxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxx xxxx x xxxxx xxxxxx...
X xxxxx xxxxxxxx Xxxxxx xx xxxxxx, xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx? Xxxx xxxxxxxxx. Xxxxxxxxxxx? Xxx xxxx xxx xxx xxxxxxx xxxx xxxxxx. Xxxx, xxxxxxxx xxxx xxxxx xx x x xxxxxx xx xxxx. (Xxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx x xxxxxxxxxx. ) X xxxxxx xxxx Xxxxx xx xxxxx xxx x xxxxxxxx.
“Xxxx,” Xxxx xxxx, “Xxxxxxxx!!!!”
Xxxxxxx xx x xxxxxxx x Xxx-Xxxxxx xxx, xxxxx xxx xxxx x xxxxxx xxx xxxxx xx xxxxxxxxxxxx.
Xxxx, xxxx, xxx xxxxxx, xxxx xxxx xxxxxxx.
Xxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxx x xxxx xx Xxxxxx xxx. Xxxx x xxxxxxx. Xxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxx xx xxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx? Xxxxxxxxxxxxx. X xxxxxxxxxx. X xxxxxx xxxxxx, Xxx-Xxxxxx xxxxxxxx x xxxxxxxxxx. Xxxxx xxxxx! Xxxxx!
Xxxx Xxxxx xxxxxx x xxxxxxxx.
X xxxxxx xxx x xxxxxxx x xxxx xxxx, Xxxxxxxxx xxx Xxx-Xxxxxx xxxx x xxxxxx xxx x xxxxx xx xxxx xxxxxxxx.
Xxx xxx xxxxx.
X xxxxx.
Xxxx?
Xxx, Xxxx.
Xxx xx xxxxxx xxx xxxxx...
I
’m sorry I couldn’t let you read Chapter One.
That was where you would have learned the names of the characters in this story. You also would have learned where it takes place. And when. You would have learned all the things you usually learn at the beginning of a book.
Unfortunately, I can’t tell you any of those things.
Yes, this is a story
about
a secret. But it’s also a
secret story.
I shouldn’t even be telling you that I shouldn’t be telling you the story. That’s how much of a secret it is.
Not only can’t I tell you the names of the people involved, I can’t even tell you what they’ve done or why.
I can’t tell you what kind of pets they have. Or how many annoying little brothers. Or how many bossy big sisters. Or whether they like their ice cream plain or with mix-ins.
I can’t tell you about their schools or their friends or their favorite television shows. Or if they ride skateboards. Or if they are champion chess players. Or if they compete in fencing competitions. Or even if they wear braces.
In short, I can’t tell you anything that would help you identify the people involved in this story if you were to meet them at your orthodontist’s office. (Teeth, as you may know from watching television, are very useful when detectives are identifying cadavers.)
This is for your own protection as well as mine. And for the protection of your friends. And even of your enemies. (You know, those ones you say you want to kill but in the end you’d rather keep alive.)
Still, you must find my silence very frustrating.
How can you follow a story if you don’t know whom it’s about?
Somebody
has got to be getting lost in the woods, or slaying dragons, or traveling in time, or whatever it is that happens in the story.
I’ll tell you what—I’ll make you a deal.
To help you follow my story, I’m going to break my own rule—already!—and I’m going to give my characters names and faces. But remember these aren’t their
real
names and faces. They’re more like code names or cover identities, like a spy or a criminal would have.
If you don’t like a name I choose, change it. If I write “
Tim
loved to pick his nose,” and you prefer the name Tom to Tim, then read the line as “
Tom
loved to pick his nose.” I won’t take offense. You can do that with all the names in this book if you like.
Or keep my names. It’s up to you.
Now, just as it’s hard to read a story without knowing whom the story’s about, it’s also hard to read a story without knowing where the story takes place. Even if you were reading about extraterrestrials from another dimension, you’d want to imagine something about their surroundings. Like that they lived in a murky green miasma. Or in some place really hot.
Although the real location of this story will have to remain a mystery, to make it easier for all of us, why don’t we say the story takes place in
a place you know very well
?
We’ll call it Your Hometown.
When you read about the town the characters live in, just think of the town you live in. Is the town big or little? By the sea or by a lake? Or is your town all asphalt and shopping malls? You tell me.
When you read about the characters’ school, think of Your School. Is it in an old one-room schoolhouse or in a bunch of double wide mobile homes? You decide.
When they go home, imagine they live on Your Street, maybe even in a house right across from yours.
Who knows, maybe Your Street is where the story really takes place. I wouldn’t tell you if it was. But I couldn’t tell you for certain that it’s not.
In return for all the freedom I’m giving you, I ask only one favor: if I ever slip and reveal something that I shouldn’t—and I will!—please forget what I’ve said as soon as possible.
