Eye Contact by Cammie McGovern

By Cammie McGovern

Just like the wonderful Bones and The Curious Incident of the puppy within the Night-Time, Cammie McGovern's breakout novel is right now a hypnotic mystery and an affecting portrait of individuals as actual as our next-door buddies. In Eye touch, little ones vanish within the woods at the back of their simple university. Hours later, nine-year-old Adam is located alive, the only real witness to his playmate's homicide. yet simply because Adam has autism, he's a silent witness. purely his mom, Cara, can assist decode his habit for the police. because the suspense ratchets, Eye touch turns into a heart-stopping exploration of the bond among a mom and a really targeted baby.

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It’s strange to be spending all this time sitting on a sofa beside his mother. Usually for dinner, she makes him some food and stands while he eats, reading a thick pile of stapled pages in her hand. His mother works as a lawyer for an environmental action group, which means if she isn’t reading, she’s making telephone calls. “I have a compulsive polluter to call tonight,” she’ll say and he’ll shrug, ask no questions. She has her problems and he has his. Now they sit together, blinking at the screen.

He knows the SPED room at Woodside because last year, when he was still a Woodside student, he volunteered to go there one recess a week and play games with the younger kids. His teacher, Ms. Heinz, suggested it to him. “You’d be sort of a big brother to them. Someone they can look up to,” she’d said. Morgan assumed he’d gotten the assignment because even though he was in the sixth grade, he tested at an eighth-grade reading level, which would someday very soon put his brain in high school. He was paired with a boy named Leon who had Down’s syndrome and it was okay, as Morgan remembered—a way to get out of recess, anyway, which had always been empty, pointless time to Morgan.

She searched the house, all of the places he would ordinarily be, and couldn’t find him anywhere. He knew not to walk outside by himself, had never done such a thing before, but when she stepped outside, she heard a noise and followed it, running, to find Adam alone in the garden shed beside his fallen bike pouring a bottle of glue into its gears. “Back on,” he said, tears streaming down his face as he pressed the training wheels into the mess. She thought of the hours Adam used to spend riding his tilted bike up the street, eyes on his wheel, ringing his bell at every driveway.

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