“How come I gotta go and they don’t?” Miles whined from the backseat. Frankie didn’t know if he was supposed to have a car seat so she’d believed him when he said no. He was pulling at the collar of his T-shirt. He didn’t like anything too close to his neck, which meant that he didn’t have his jacket zipped all the way either. She had never considered that being around kids would take so much brainpower. Zipped, not zipped, and how late is too late? Worrying about what they were doing, how they were doing it and if, somehow, what they were doing was going to follow them throughout the whole of their lives, drained Frankie’s energy.
She’d been avoiding phone calls from her mother, her brother, and her dad. Chloe had promised not to say anything for now and admitted that Frankie’s mother had been hounding her for information. Frankie knew it wasn’t fair to keep her family in the dark, but until she knew what she wanted to do, she didn’t want someone else telling her what decisions to make. Ryan, of course, knew everything as well. Thankfully, he’d kept his judgment to a minimum and the obvious admiration he felt about her decision was a boost to her ego. She might not know much about kids, but now that Miles was feeling better, she knew he needed to be in school.
“Because you’re registered at West Lake Elementary and they aren’t. Plus, you’re easier to boss around,” she answered, glancing in the rear view then back at the road. The traffic was light. She wondered how many kids went to school in this town. Mostly a farming community, it was on the outskirts of Minnesota; one of many small towns that surrounded Duluth. Kind of like a ring of small town protection with the big city in the middle.
“Travis used to go to West Lake Junior. How come he don’t gotta go?” Miles said a minute later. His mouth was scrunched up into a pout that made Frankie smile quietly. According to Travis, he’d decided that distance education courses suited him better. Frankie wasn’t sure about that but it was better than Carter’s choice, which had been to quit before going to eleventh grade. She was shocked that they considered school at all, given everything else they’d dealt with.
“Listen, I’m not used to having three boys around. You have to be my helper, okay? Give me a break,” she told him.
Eight year olds had compassion, right? She pulled into the school parking lot, waited for the bus to pull ahead, and found a spot. Kids were walking with friends and parents. One little girl was pushing a stroller while her mom walked behind her, travel mug in hand, chatting with a friend. Frankie’s stomach tipped side to side, like a boat in uneasy waters. She turned around to see that Miles had taken off his seatbelt, turned his body, and shoved his face into the back of the seat. She could see his profile. Sighing, she turned her body and rested her chin on her seat.
“I don’t want to go,” he mumbled.
“I know. But you have to. If you don’t get back to school, your teacher will wonder why,” Frankie said. Her chest ached. She didn’t remember being eight but she was pretty sure she was a happy kid. She had two parents who loved her and a brother who loved torturing her, and most of the time, she had loved school. She’d lived in a great big house that she’d thought her parents could afford. She’d never lacked for food or clothes or anything necessary. She often got to sneak around at fancy, adult parties that seemed glamorous. She knew better now, knew that it was all for show, but at the time, she’d been blissfully unaware. But Miles’s life wasn’t that simple and she had to remember that. Miles turned his face, his watery eyes wide, and his nose, a little red, scrunched up.
“She knows I was sick.”
“Okay. But she’s probably worried and wondering if you’re okay now. And you are. And when you’re okay, you go to school.”
Which was what she would be explaining to the other two when she got back to the house. Ryan’s insistence that the boys shouldn’t be lazing around while she pretended her life hadn’t been upended by discovering them was a wake-up call. Another had been the drop by from the attractive and surprisingly young mayor. The boys had come inside, worry creasing their faces when they’d seen his car. They’d asked if she’d called the mayor to come get them. Frankie didn’t even know if someone could do that, but she didn’t like the fear they’d expressed.
So she’d gone out and made sure Ryan hadn’t said anything. But it was a reminder that she had to make a decision. She didn’t want anyone with authority calling the shots and possibly splitting up the boys. Cameron Ross wore his authority like he wore his expensive suits: like a perfect-fitting glove.
Frankie was certain that if she could just talk to someone in child services in person, she would be able to explain how important it was for these boys to stay together. Maybe she should get to know Cameron a little better. She’d have phoned her parents to ask for advice, but she knew what it would be: Call social services. Not yet.
“Frankie?” Miles said quietly, pulling her out of her own head.
“Yeah?” He looked up at the roof of her car as if he was studying the interior light.
“You gonna pick me up?”
“Yup. At 3:00.” She kept looking at him but he didn’t look back.
“Like for real? You ain’t gonna leave me here?” His voice was so small and fragile when he said it that Frankie didn’t know if she could answer without choking on the lump in her throat. She swallowed before pasting a smile on her face.
“Look at me, Miles.” He glanced at her but went back to looking at the roof. “My dad always told me never to make a promise unless you knew you could keep it. He said there’re so many other ways to say something, like I’ll try, I’ll do my best, or we’ll see. But he said that if a person gives their word, they need to be sure they can keep it.” She wondered if that was too much for an eight year old. But then he lowered his gaze and locked his chocolate brown eyes on hers, so she continued. Her throat thickened.
“I will be here to pick you up at 3:00. You have my word,” she said. His little lips pushed together like he was puckering them.
“You promise?”
“I promise.” He held out his hand and she realized that he was waiting for her to shake on it. So she did. Then she watched, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, as he grabbed the lunch kit she’d found in Beth’s cupboard that morning, and let himself out of the car. He ran toward the rectangular, brick building. He wasn’t three steps onto the walkway when he ran into a boy he must have known. They smiled at each other and walked the rest of the way up the path together, toward the stairs and double doors. Frankie wiped the tears before they fell.