Orphan Pirates of the Spanish Main Read Online Free

tiny, precise printing. I’ve seen it before myself. It’s Dr. Deetermeyer’s, Katyana’s father, who first introduced me to the idea of my parents’ alien origins. He’s been missing for almost a year after a nervous breakdown, or whatever it’s called now. Katyana was pretty upset when he wasn’t around for Dylan’s birth. He’s done it before, taken off for parts unknown, only to turn up months later, sometimes with a new identity, a position at some new university. Katyana’s the only one left to go looking for him. He’s as wacky as a bag of cats, but he’s a fucking genius at the same time. It can be hard to suss out the borderline.
    â€œYou’re saying he sent this card?”
    â€œYou don’t think it’s from your dead mother, do you?”
    â€œBut what about the message? It’s her handwriting.”
    She shrugs. “Then she wrote it when she was alive.”
    â€œI thought you believed in magical stuff.”
    â€œThat doesn’t mean I believe in ghosts who mail postcards with Forever stamps.”
    Her dad would have had Ollie’s address. He kept a huge database of all of us born to alien parents—who are essentially aliens ourselves—which explains a lot about the course of my life. He’s tried to interview as many of us as possible. This may have been his attempt to pique Ollie’s interest, so he would agree to such an interview. Deetermeyer wouldn’t send it to me for fear of Katyana finding him and revealing him to whatever institution he’s bamboozled into funding his research for his definitive work on aliens among us. As a genius without real degrees, his references are all aliens like me.
    I would rather believe in aliens than ghosts. Katyana’s beliefs don’t matter: He’s still her father. She has to go find him regardless. No one else will. Her much older sister has washed her hands, she says. This from one who claims Jesus is the answer no matter the question. Katyana’s relieved to finally have a clue to her father’s whereabouts and a little pissed off to have to pursue it at the same time. She has a baby to take care of, for Christ’s sake. Katyana is nothing if not adaptable, however.
    She smiles. “A big trip. Maybe that’s exactly what we need. We haven’t been anywhere since before Dylan was born.”
    â€œWhat about Dylan?” I ask. “We can’t just leave him.”
    â€œOf course not. He can experience the train.”
    â€œTrain? Who said anything about a train?”
    â€œDon’t you think it would be fun? More comfortable with Dylan and all. We can treat your brother. He’s really low. He’s much nicer than you said. You’ll have time to bond, you know? See the country? Daddy’s not going anywhere in the middle of the semester, and neither is the abyss.” Even though ours is an unconventional marriage of convenience, scarcely a marriage at all, there’s one thing you should know. I will do anything on Earth she asks. I adore her.
    Ollie bridles at first. The train? (He hates Amtrak on principle.) But Katyana puts Dylan in his arms and pretty soon Uncle Ollie—Katyana calls him Ollie, and he makes not a whimper—is completely onboard.
    *   *   *
    That still leaves the dogs. What to do about them. Boarding costs a lot of money. They come out weird, like you would expect intelligent social animals to be after being locked up in a cage for too damn long. Katyana suggests we ask Bill, a retired Unitarian minister and fellow child of aliens, to look after them. We both know him from the dog park. I say retired, but actually they practically forced him out after most of his sermons dwelt on aliens for nearly a year. There was some sort of settlement to make him go away, and he bought a condo a couple of blocks from the church. We’re on his balcony having coffee. This is where he