House Arrest (22 page)

WEEK
4
5

It's too late now, James.
I mean, you can yell at me.
You can talk about self-control.
I can wish I had more of it.
But it's too late.
I can't just go back and erase everything.
The judge will see I hit that kid.
The judge will see I hit that wall.
The judge already knows I stole that money.
What else do you want me to do?
What else can I do?
I am who I am.
I'm trying, James.
You know that.
Please don't yell at me.
Please don't be James from Probation Officer University.
Please don't be that guy.

What do you mean
if I could talk to him?
I would never talk to him.
I'm not ever talking to him.
Not ever again.
I mean
unless he was kidnapped by a chupacabra,
or went to secret medical school,
or was on a hero's quest
to find a forest of perfect tracheas . . .
then maybe
maybe
I would say:
Why didn't you just let us know?
Why didn't you even say bye?
Don't you love us?
Don't you love me?
What is wrong with you,
that a human could be so selfish?
Do you think this isn't hard for Mom?
Do you think you helped us by leaving?
Do you even have a brain?
Do you hate us or something?

Dear Dr. Sawyer,
Well, thanks for zero help.
It must be nice to be the only doctor
who can do what you do
because then you can be rude
and never answer e-mails
and people still have to figure out
a way to see you
if they want their babies
to get fixed.
So that's what we're doing.
First the Carnival of Giving,
then we're coming.
And I won't kick you in the shins
when I see you
even though I will want to.
Peace out, nerd,
Timothy

It's almost as loud as the suction machine,
the turtle car.
José's dad gunned the engine
like a big show-off
and filled the entire cul-de-sac
with smoke
that smelled like burning tires
or what I imagine burning tires
smell like.
It purrs like a baby
,
he shouted over the noise
and I laughed
because since when do babies purr?

Despite my
outburst
the Carnival of Giving is still on
even though the PTA
or some of the PTA
is grumbling about it
according to José
who was listening in on the phone call
his mother got.
Lucky Timothy,
ex-vigilante,
almost-ex-criminal,
didn't ruin everything
this time
I hope.

WEEK 46

O
M
G
shut
up
James
you
do
not
live
in
Butt
Creek
Apartments
we're
not
going
to
be
neighbors
what
just
what

When I told Mrs. B about
Mom's job interview coming up
her face exploded into a smile.
Like, it went from
Superserious Mrs. B face to
BAM
HUGE SMILING FACE.
It was a little creepy.
I mean,
in a good way.

A speech.
A speech.
A speech.
What am I supposed to say?
Please give us all your money?
Even though I am technically a criminal?
Even though technically we won't pay you back?
That seems like a terrible speech.
Maybe we should just cancel.
Aaaaarrrgh.
We can't cancel.
But I also can't make a speech.
Maybe Mom will make the speech.

I can't believe you're moving.
throws shoe in box
I mean, why so soon?
throws other shoe in different box
It's like one day there was a sign . . .
throws Dad's football in box
And then the next it said SOLD.
throws book in with football
I like having you close, Timothy.
throws old homework assignment in box
It will be weird having you far away.
throws candy wrapper in box
I'm going to miss you.
I put my hand on her hand.
I look at the sixteen million boxes
all with two things in them,
all with stupid things in them.
Isa.
My voice is low.
I have something very important to tell you.
Her eyes fill up her face.
Two things,
actually.
She leans in closer.
One: the Butt Creek apartments are just down the street.
Two: you are a terrible packer.
She smacks me in the head with a shoe.
I try to stuff her in a box.
She's so short
it almost works.

Just sign the papers.
That's what I hear this time
through the door
after the phone rings.
We've been over this.
Sign the [swearword bleeped] papers, Tim.
The first time I've heard it.
His name.
My name.
It really is Dad.
He really is out there somewhere.

WEEK 47

Who knew that moving into
the Butt Creek Apartments
would also be a ticket to
James's Gun Show?
Holy muscles, Batman.
You lifted my whole bed over your head.
Dude.

Everything's coming up Annie!
That's what Mom said
when I walked in from school.
She was wearing a suit
she got from some place
that gives suits to ladies
looking for jobs.
I was like,
What?
Everything's what?
And she grabbed me
smelling not like herself
because of that suit,
looking not like herself
because of the lipstick.
And she kissed my forehead.
I got the job, T-man.
We won't have to eat the kitchen table
after all.
And Marisol laughed from the kitchen
where Levi was busy barfing
on the aforementioned kitchen table.
Don't call me T-man
,
I said.
And then I hugged her back.
Hard.
Because, dang.
She got that job fast.
Mom is on fire these days.

Speaking of things on fire,
José's dad took us out
for a ride
in the turtle car
just around the block,
which was good
because about halfway
I watched his feet working the
clutch the gas the brake
and then this smoke came shooting through the vents
making him grab the fire extinguisher
from under the seat
leap from the car
that was still rolling a little bit (!!)
and put out a fire
in the engine.
So that was way more fun
than the history project
José and I were supposed to be working on.

Baby Signing Adventure
Levi in my lap
fingers moving
brain whirling
mesmerized.
I can't help but wonder
who is Miss Jill
with her long fingers
and big white teeth
and singsong voice?
Who is she in real life?
Why does she do this show?
How did she learn all the signs?
Maybe she has a baby with a trach.
Maybe she has a kid who's deaf.
Maybe they needed a Carnival of Giving
to raise money
and maybe she gave a speech
using only her hands
and everyone loved it
and gave her a zillion dollars
and she started this TV show.
Or maybe she's just an actress.
I hate to think that, though.
I hate to think she's just an actress.

He hasn't called since we moved.
Not once.

Who knew the Butt Creek apartments
had punching bags
a treadmill
a thing with those big round weights?
Who knew James would
gasp
break a rule
and let me in the tiny gym
even though I am under sixteen.
Who knew it would be so great
to punch that bag
really slam it
over and over and over and over
until my arms went limp and wiggly
like giant worms.
The Timothy Gun Show.
Coming soon
to some arms near you.