A Helping Hand

By Kristine Kathryn Rusch

Jamal knows his father has struggled to support the family since Jamal's mom died. So, when eleven-year-old Jamal finds something shiny in the snow on his way to school, he wonders if he can ease his dad's burden.

But his discovery could put the family at even greater risk. Or it could finally restore hope for them all.

"Rusch is a great storyteller."

—RT Book Reviews

• Language: English
• Publisher: WMG Publishing
• Release date: Mar 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386928270

Kristine Kathryn Rusch

New York Times bestselling author Kristine Kathryn Rusch writes in almost every genre. Generally, she uses her real name (Rusch) for most of her writing. She publishes bestselling science fiction and fantasy, award-winning mysteries, acclaimed mainstream fiction, controversial nonfiction, and the occasional romance. Her novels have made bestseller lists around the world and her short fiction has appeared in eighteen best of the year collections. She has won more than twenty-five awards for her fiction, including the Hugo, Le Prix Imaginales, the Asimov's Readers Choice award, and the Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine Readers Choice Award.   

Book preview

A Helping Hand

A HELPING HAND

KRISTINE KATHRYN RUSCH

WMG Publishing

CONTENTS

A Helping Hand

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Also by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

About the Author

A HELPING HAND

Jamal shoved his mittened hands in the thin pockets of his coat. He’d forgotten his hat and his ears were getting cold. The day was dark and gray. Icy drops were falling from the sky—not rain, not snow, but sharp pellets that felt like needles when they hit his skin.

The snow banks were piled high against the side of the road, blocking the view of traffic. Sometimes he felt as if he were walking through canyons. His father grumbled that global warming was a myth; certainly this winter had proven the scientists—all of whom had been citing warming figures from the first thirty years of the century as proof of this phenomenon—wrong. Jamal’s grandmother said that she remembered winters like this when she was a girl, and that weather, like life, had its cycles.

He shivered again. He didn’t like this cycle. He’d outgrown his heated boots and he had to wear his father’s cast-offs, which were too big, and the heater had stopped working years ago. His grandmother knitted his mittens which was why he kept them hidden; he was the only kid in his class whose gloves and coat didn’t self-heat.

His family had been struggling for the past year. His mother’s illness and death had drained their reserves, or so his father had said one dark night when Jamal had found him alone at the kitchen table, staring at his handheld. It beeped constantly as creditors sent threats, past due messages, and notices of legal actions.

There’s nothing left to sell, his father had said, hands cupping his chin.

Jamal had never heard his father sound so depressed and it frightened him. He’d asked his father what he could do, and his father just shook his head.

It’ll be better in the morning, kiddo, he’d said, and they had both known he was lying.

Jamal had tried to find work, but there was little a kid of eleven could do. He had to wait until he was twelve before he could get special permission for a part-time job. When he’d told his grandmother about this, she’d muttered something about tighter