It’s almost bedtime, and I take out my escape plan. I glance at the calendar on the wall to check the date.
Going over my escape list now, I add a new item.
W-D 40 The garage in town will have some.
I hear a creak on the stairs. Closing my notebook, I turn to see if it’s one of the ninjas. But it’s FJ, and he has a serious look on his face.
“I do something wrong?”
He sits down on the edge of my desk and pulls a piece of paper from his shirt pocket. “Matter of fact, you’ve done something right—very right. Take a look at your latest report card.”
On the left-hand side is a list of subjects: English, Math, Science, History. Each quarter’s grades are shown in columns to the right, next to the subjects. In the first quarter the letters in the grade column had been Ds and even a couple of Fs. In the next one, I see one C, two Bs, and an A.
I feel my mouth drop open. I knew my grades had been getting better. The teachers had been writing things like “excellent” and “good work” on my papers. But I never expected this.
“An A,” I say. “I got an A in Math!”
FJ smiles. “So you see, things are going very right. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes sir!”
I watch his mouth go straight again. There’s something else. . . .
“You’ve, uh, you’ve done well since you came here to live, Frankie Joe,” he says, “real well. Studied hard, worked hard . . . very, very well.”
Why is he repeating himself?
“Yes indeed,” he continues. “In the last few months, you done exceptionally well.” FJ begins wiping at his mouth like something sticky is stuck on it. “And we’re thinking—Lizzie and me—that as long as you’re here, you will continue to do well.”
What’s he saying?
“So that’s why we began legal procedures sometime back. I’m going to be sole custodian for you—that means your legal guardian—and Lizzie is going to adopt you. It normally takes four to six months, so it should be final in another few weeks.”
Four to six months? I remember hearing FJ and Lizzie saying those words once before. They were talking in the kitchen when I snuck downstairs to look for matches for my escape. They were talking about me!
“No,” I say. “No no no! I got to go back to Laredo and live with Mom.”
FJ’s mouth is thin as a pencil line. “Your mama needs some time to get back on her feet, son. That might take a good bit of time. She can visit you any time she wants; I’ll see to that—“
“She won’t let it happen! She won’t let you do this!”
FJ hesitates. “I’ve, uh, I’ve discussed this with Martha Jane. She knows we’ve filed the papers.”
“She . . . what?” My chest feels like it’s caving in. Why didn’t she say something to me?
“Lizzie wanted me to say something earlier,” he says, “but I’ve waited until I could show you that you’d be better off here. Look at your school records.” He points to the report card. “Doesn’t that say it all? And the best news is that Mr. Arnt and I have been talking about allowing you to skip a grade—just like Mark did. If you go to summer school and continue to work hard, you can move up to the seventh grade next year where you belong.”
That was the reason for the school visits?
“Surely you can see it’s best for you to stay here?”
Here again. Here in Clearview, Illinois. A million miles from Laredo, Texas.
I throw the grade report in the wastebasket. “No sir, that doesn’t say it all. I say it all—and I don’t want to get adopted and stay here. I wanna go back home to Laredo.”
FJ stands up and pulls the grade report out of the trash. “It’s all but a done deal, Frankie Joe. All that’s left is for Martha Jane to sign the papers . . . and I know she will. There’s not a court in the land that would give her custody now, not with her record.” He holds up my report card. “Especially with how well you’re doing here.”
He lays his hand on my shoulder. “Why, people in this town think the world of you—we all do.” He pauses. “Especially me. I want you here with me, Frankie Joe. I want to be a good father to you, make up for all those years we lost.”
I stare at FJ, realizing how much I’ve wanted to hear those words all the months I sat in the attic doing homework. But now all I want to do is cry.
Sometimes words just come too late.
Dear Mom,
FJ told me tonight about becoming my sole custodian and Lizzie adopting me. I told him you wouldn’t let that happen. You got to talk to your lawyer about stopping them. I want to come home to live with you.
Please hurry.
Frankie Joe
XOXOXO