After Father and I’s big fight, he took my novel and never returned it. All my hard work was in that book. It had taken me days to investigate. I could start again, and just try really, really hard to remember all my research and just create another book. But, I decided this was too difficult. I had to find my book.
When I walk home from the bus stop, Father is usually still at work for about an hour or so. So I took this as an opportunity to “do digging” in his room. I looked everywhere I could possibly look and found nothing. I was running out of time too. But something in me decided to check under the bed, even though everyone knows hiding things there is not the brightest idea. But, to my surprise, I found a little worn out box. Inside was my novel. I didn’t know whether or not I should take it however, because what if Father notices it’s gone? He’ll know I took it.
While I was thinking about my next step, something else caught my attention. Dozens of letters were sitting in the box as well. 43 in total. And they were all addressed to me. I opened one up to read it, and it was from Mother. I opened another, and I read it. And another, and another, and another. And it all began to piece together in front of me.
“Then Roger said that he had asked the bank for a transfer. That means he asked them if he could have a job in London, and he was leaving. He asked me if I wanted to come with him. I thought about it for a long time, Christopher. Honestly, I did. And it broke my heart, but eventually I decided it would be better for all of us if I went. So I said yes.”
I felt sick to my stomach. My vision blurred and I could not stand straight. Mother was alive, and Father had been lying to me this whole time. Mother left with the man she was “doing sex” with. Mother left with Mrs. Shears husband, Mr. Shears. Mother left because of me, because I was too much to handle, and her and Father always fought because of me. She left and she’s alive and Father told me she was dead.
The sickness I was feeling caught up to me, and I vomited all over the bed and my clothes. I didn’t want to move, I couldn’t. So I laid there until Father found me. He knew he got caught in his lie. He cried and apologized, but I didn’t say a word back. I couldn’t. All I could think about were math equations. I solved the most difficult ones in my head while Father talked. He told me one last thing before he went to start my bath:
He killed Wellington. Father had so much anger for Mrs. Shears that he killed Wellington.
My mystery was solved, but it is not the ending I expected or wanted.
Signing off, Christopher Boone
Christopher Boone 