In Socko’s experience, nothing that cost money happened fast. He was used to waiting for new shoes, school supplies, even milk. One year they’d celebrated Christmas in February. He figured he’d have plenty of time to convince his mom to forget the whole moving idea.
But just five days after Delia found her dream home, someone knocked loudly on the door of 4A.
He and Damien were on the sofa spooning Marshmallow Fluff straight out of the jar. Mouths full, they looked at the door, then at each other. It was a little after three and Delia was still at work.
“Express Mail,” barked a voice outside the door.
“Just leave it,” Socko yelled back. He wasn’t opening up. Anybody could say “Express Mail.”
“I need a signature.”
Socko raised his eyebrows at Damien.
His friend shook his head and dug his spoon into the fluff.
“Who’s it from?” Socko called.
“Some law firm,” said the voice.
Law firm? mouthed Damien.
“Which one?” Socko asked. Anyone could also say “law firm.”
“Do you want the letter or not?”
“Just a sec.” Socko put his fluff spoon down on the arm of the sofa and walked slowly to the door. Keeping the chain on, he opened it a crack. The front of a blue postal worker’s shirt filled the gap.
“Can I sign for it?” asked Socko.
“You got a hand?” A clipboard slid edgewise through the gap. “Line four.”
Socko signed line four with the pen attached to the board, then passed the clipboard back. The mailman thrust a cardboard envelope at him. Staring at it, Socko closed the door. Between the blue eagle printed on it and the words “EXPRESS MAIL” in all capital letters, it looked pretty official.
“Open it!” Damien jumped off the couch and sprinted over. “It’s gotta be about the house.”
“It’s addressed to my mom.”
“So? The house is our business too. Mine especially. I wanna know how long I have to live.”
Socko slid his thumb under the flap and tore it open. Inside was another envelope—a thick one with an embossed return address. “Sweeney, Marcum, Jarvis, & Petty, Attorneys at Law.”
Damien snatched the envelope and ripped it open. He pulled out a sheaf of folded papers. Clipped to the top sheet was a check. Damien let the other papers fall to the floor. He held the pale blue rectangle in both hands. “You are rich, man!” Resting his back against the door, he slid to the floor. As soon as his butt touched down, he twisted around and slapped the door with his palm. “Is this thing all-the-way locked?”
Socko threw the extra bolts, and then slid down beside him. Reading the figure on the check for the first time, he thought he might pass out.
“Look at all the zeroes!” Damien breathed. “With this I could live easy the rest of my life.” He surveyed his torn jeans and the baggy T-shirt left behind by one of his mother’s boyfriends. “First I’d buy me some nice threads, then a car …” He was grinning so big, Socko could see the Marshmallow Fluff between his teeth. “Don’t worry, my man. I’d buy you one too.”
“Don’t drool on it!” The check was making Socko nervous, and the check in Damien’s hand was driving him right to the edge of crazy. “We gotta hide it good!”
“I’m on it!” Damien scrambled to his feet.
They looked everywhere, Socko trailing Damien as he waved the check around, but no place seemed really safe.
“Genius idea!” Damien folded the check and stuck it under his Superman lid. “Super protection!”
“No!” Socko jerked the hat off his friend’s head and caught the check before it fluttered to the floor.
“Don’t get so jumpy! I’m just messin’ with you.”
“Why’d you go and fold it?” Socko had zero experience with checks. Folding one seemed risky.
“Wait—genius idea number two!” Damien plucked the check from Socko’s hand. “No one’ll look in here.” He stashed it in the oven, leaned casually against the oven door, and began to whistle.
“What if someone accidentally bumps the dial and turns it on? Your butt is right next to it!” Socko grabbed his friend’s arm and jerked him away from the oven door.
They tried to pry the back off Socko’s baby picture frame to sandwich the check between the photo and the board—but there was too much tape.
Damien came up with genius idea number three. He pulled a box of Corn Chex cereal out of a cabinet and hid the valuable piece of paper inside. “Chex … check. Get it?”
Socko was still uneasy. What if they accidentally ate the check? Okay, okay. That was stupid, and he didn’t have a better idea.
When they finally heard Delia in the hall, they rushed the door and fumbled the locks open. “It came!” they said together.
“My gosh … oh my gosh!” Delia triple-locked the door behind her before letting them retrieve the check from the cereal box.
“Great god in heaven!” She kissed the check, and then tested the locks. “Put it back in the cereal!”
Damien looked as if someone had slapped him. “You got the check, next you get the house. And after that—you’re gone.” He turned to Socko, like Socko could make it not happen.
Ever since he’d told Damien about the offer, Socko had assured his friend he was working on his mom. And he was. He hadn’t made any progress, but until the check arrived Socko had really believed there was a chance to convince her. Now he knew there wasn’t. Not with all those zeroes.
“I wish he didn’t know about the check,” Delia said after an unexpected knock from below had summoned Damien home.
“Come on, Mom. He won’t steal it! He’s my best friend!”
“No, but he’ll talk. You know the way that kid runs his mouth!”
She was right. Even when he had nothing to talk about, Damien suffered from diarrhea of the mouth.
Delia took the cereal box down and teased the check out and held it in both hands. “This is our new life, Socko.” She hid the check under the plastic tray in the silverware drawer, then picked up the papers scattered on the floor. “And this is what we have to do to live it.”
She sat down at the table and put on the drugstore reading glasses she wore, not because she needed them but because she said they made her feel smarter. Peering over the tops of the glasses, she read the contract that outlined the General’s “terms and conditions” three times before signing.
Socko didn’t sleep much that night. He woke up once from a brief stretch of unconsciousness and heard his mother humming. When he came out from behind the thirteen original colonies, Delia was standing at the window, silhouetted by the flickering blue from the neon sign across the street.
“Mom?”
“I moved the check again,” she whispered. “So don’t freak when you open that drawer and it’s gone.”
“Where to?”
“Don’t worry about it. You can’t spill what you don’t know.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“I don’t even trust me. This is too big.”