“I’m just gonna take a test drive,” I tell Matt as I slip into my backpack. I’ve loaded it with four of my school-books to get a feel for the load I’ll be carrying.
“Want me to come with you?” He’s been working on his bike, which he hauled out of the storage shed this morning. “In case you run into trouble?”
“That’s the whole idea of doing a test run,” I say. “Where’d you leave your smarts, Mr. Honor Student?”
“Oh, right.” He grins at me.
I wheel my Rover Sport away from the curb. It’s still cool, but the snow is melting fast. As soon as I’m out of town, I begin to pedal faster, and soon I’m cruising past big brown squares of ground waiting to be planted. In the stillness, the same questions that have been bugging me for days pop into my head.
Why hasn’t Mom called me? Will she call FJ instead? Or have her lawyer call FJ’s lawyer?
“Frankie Joe! Hey, Frankie Joe!”
Looking over my shoulder, I see Matt behind me, pumping hard. I pull to a stop and wait for him to catch up. “What is it?”
“You’re supposed to come home. Dad needs to talk to you—right away.”
FJ has heard from Mom—the adoption is off! Wheeling around I head back toward town.
“Wait up,” Matt calls out. “I need to tell you something else.”
I wait for him to catch up. “You didn’t tell FJ about my escape plan, did you? You promised you wouldn’t tell.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t break my word. When I make a promise, I keep it.”
“Then, what?” We start pedaling again, side by side.
“I’m, uh, I’m gonna call off the race.”
“What? But, why?”
“I couldn’t catch you, Frankie Joe. I pumped the whole way, and I couldn’t catch you.” He shakes his head. “You know what that means?”
I don’t.
“It means you’re faster than me. I figure it’s because of your delivery service, all that biking you did this winter.”
“Well then,” I say, “we’ll have the race, and I’ll let you beat me. You’ll be number one again.”
“Why would you do that? Why would you let me win?”
“Won’t matter to me ’cause I’ll be leaving right after the race. Who cares?”
“You can’t let me win. That’s not fair. You forget what Dad’s always telling us about being all we can be?”
We park our bikes on the front porch. “I’m not sure being all you can be always means being number one, Matt. Know what I mean?”
He shakes his head a little and says, “Hey, I’m supposed to be the smart one. Remember?”
I just grin.
FJ hands me two letters the minute I walk in the front door. They’re the ones I sent to Mom.
“But I don’t understand.”
“They were returned.” He looks at Matt. “Your mom’s in the kitchen and your brothers are upstairs. Why don’t you give Frankie Joe and me some time alone.”
“Sure,” Matt says. “I’ll, uh, I’ll take your backpack upstairs, Frankie Joe.”
As Matt leaves, I look at the letters. They’re both still sealed, so I know FJ hasn’t read them. Something has been stamped on the front of them: RETURN TO SENDER. ADDRESSEE NO LONGER AN INMATE.
“What does that mean?” I ask, looking at FJ.
“Your mom’s in town, Frankie Joe. She got out of jail early.”
“I knew it!” I blurt out. “I knew she wouldn’t let me get adopted! She’s come to get me, hasn’t she?”
“Come on,” he says, hurrying me toward the door. “I’ll explain at the attorney’s office. She’s waiting for us there. We don’t have a lot of time. She wants to see you before she and Ricky leave.”
What?
“M-mom?” I whisper. My tongue feels numb. I feel numb all over.
She looks the same, except her blonde hair is longer and her skin isn’t tanned—and she’s sitting next to a dark-haired man I don’t know. When she sees me, she jumps out of her chair and runs over to me.
“Hi kiddo! Guess you’re surprised to see me, huh?” She pulls me close, then pushes me back and gives me an up-and-down look. “Looks like you haven’t missed any meals.”
“But how’d you get here? . . . Why didn’t you call? . . . I don’t understand.”
“Oh things just got moving too fast,” she says, brushing her hand through the air. “And you’re the one got me here—got us here.”
She nods toward the man sitting at the table. “This is Ricky. Remember, I told you about him. Would you believe I raffled off that quilt you sent and got a bundle for it—enough to pay our way here. And FJ’s staking me to a new start—us a new start.” Again she looks at the dark-haired man.
What?
“Martha Jane,” FJ says, frowning. “I didn’t have time to explain things to Frankie Joe—”
“You were right, FJ,” she interrupts. “He is doing better up here than he would do tagging along after me.”
What? It’s like my ears can’t keep up with her mouth.
The man named Ricky walks over to me. “Don’t worry, kid, I’ll take good care of her.” He looks at his watch, then at Mom.
“Okay,” she tells him, then looks at me again. “Time to hit the road, hon.” She kisses me quick on the forehead. “Now do what FJ tells you. He showed me your report card. I’m real proud of you.”
The man named Ricky takes her arm, and she says okay again.
“I really gotta go,” she tells me. “We got a lot of ground to cover. Ricky got us both jobs in Reno. I’ll send you my address soon as we get settled. Keep those letters coming.”
“No—wait!” I grab her arm. “What about our trailer in Laredo? Mr. Lopez and Mr. O’Hare fixed the front steps.”
“Trailer? Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you. The bank took it back for nonpayment.” As the door closes behind her I hear her say, “There’s nothing there for either of us to go back to.”
FJ drives quietly for several minutes. “I’m real sorry, Frankie Joe. I didn’t know she was coming, either. She just showed up and”—he goes quiet again—“she, uh, she wanted a stake and wouldn’t sign the papers until . . .” He sighs. “One day you’ll see it was the right thing to do.”
I go straight upstairs when we reach the house. Rushing to my desk, I rip my escape plan out of my notebook and tear it to shreds.