I’m glad the big hearing is over. Finally.
I was listening, in case you were wondering. You said I will spend the summer picking up trash in the parks and pulling weeds on city grounds. Those jobs are exhausting. Who knew the city had so many grounds? I also have to talk-talk-talk to a County lady about my problems. That’s going to be worse than picking up garbage!
So this is the part where I write about my feelings and stuff.
The County lady says I should make two columns. One column should be “My Remorses.” (Yeah, I had to look it up, too. It means sorrys.) The second column should be “Things I Learned About Responsibility.” Like I told you, my mom says I should just say whatever you want to hear. And Grandma said, “Aren’t you done with that thing yet? I’ve never read a book that long!”
I’m just going to say what’s what and that’s that. Some of it you won’t like, but I want you to know I’m not listening to the County lady or Mom. I wrote all this stuff myself. Nobody helped except the dictionary. I guess you know me by now, Judge Henry. You’ll be able to tell if I’m yanking your robe.
So, here goes …
I’m not sorry I wanted the ex-Chemist to live with us in Canada. But I am sorry I tried to break him out of Club Fed. Aaron says we’re luckier than hillbilly lottery winners nobody got seriously hurt. I’m already responsible for a list of crimes, and that’s heavy enough for my heart. If someone had died, my heart would shrink up and die, too.
I’m not sorry for wanting out of the River Estates Mobile Home Park. Alex says dreaming about a new life is fine. It’s the doing that can make all your troubles. I am sorry I did my dreams wrong and hurt people.
Mom says we’re lucky you gave us second chances. So thanks for that. I promise to never, ever need a third chance. But why me? Why Graham? Why can’t the ex-Chemist have a second chance? I get that we’re kids and he’s an adult, but you don’t learn everything before you grow up. You learn until grass grows on your grave. Maybe the ex-Chemist learns slower than most people.
I am sorry we broke into the church people’s house, stole and destructed their stuff, and twisted and shouted on their sparkly, white bedspread. And I am really, really sorry I crashed their truck in the Club Fed fence.
I’m sorry for lots of things. I’m responsible for lots of things. But the worst thing I did, and what I’m most sorry for, is pinning the mess on Graham and shouting all nasty at someone who can’t take more nasty shouting. He’s a friend. My friend.
Remember when I said if you broke up this story into one million pieces of blame, only two of the pieces would be mine and 999,998 would belong to Graham? That’s not true. We were partners. We only called it the Graham Cracker Plot because it sounded cool.
That day at Club Fed, the day the Graham Cracker Plot failed, Ashley told us about this poem she couldn’t forget. The poem had something to do with the Club Fed fence and hope dying. When I think about the ex-Chemist being a bad guy in prison, I feel hope leaking out of my body. So I tell myself, the ex-Chemist is a good guy in prison. A mostly good guy. A dad who wants to be better at being good. Those thoughts help plug the leak.
Now I have to tell you the Big Truth, bigger than the Graham Sorry. My hand hurts from writing so much truth! But it’s important. Mom won’t want me to write it, and you won’t want to read it, and the County lady won’t want me to feel it, but right now I am the Queen of Truth, so cover your eyes if you can’t handle it.
I will always love the ex-Chemist.
ONE MORE THING
FROM THE OFFICE OF
JUDGE FRANKLIN L. HENRY
Dear Ms. Bauer,
I’ve read each of your letters with great care. I expected one letter, perhaps a long letter, but certainly not several notebooks. Your thoroughness is noted.
The following are answers to your questions you sent along with the notebooks. You didn’t need to worry about me losing the paper with the questions, as it was taped, glued, and paper clipped to the first notebook.
1. I wear a robe, not a dress, and yes, I wear pants and a shirt underneath. Judicial robes have a long tradition in the courts. I agree with your grandmother. Black is a slimming color.
2. No. I do not send children to prison.
3. My children are grown up. And no, they do not think I am mean. Neither do my grandchildren.
4. Thank you for the offer to wax my eyebrows, trim my mustache, dye my hair, and have injections in my frown lines. I’m sure your grandmother is a fine stylist, but judges cannot give or accept gifts or services from people involved in a case. Besides, I think frown lines are distinguished. Don’t you?
5. My favorite movie is The Verdict. I suggest you watch it when you are much older.
6. Yes. I did get in trouble when I was a kid. I took my dad’s cigarettes and smoked them with friends behind the malt shop. My brother squealed on me. (That’s what we called it back then.) My parents wouldn’t let me go to the school dance. That girl who was supposed to be my date, Barbara Ott, was the prettiest girl in school. She married the boy who took my place!
7. Yes. It appears you are on a path of responsibility and understanding.
8. I also do not like the labels “child at risk” or “child in need of services.” Such negativity. I think you and your friend Graham, and hundreds of other kids, should be called “children in need of hope.”
* * *
Ms. Bauer, I do not want you to give up love or hope. Love your father, the ex-Chemist; love your mother; love your grandmother; love your friend Graham; love your friend Ashley. Love people, but don’t confuse it with loving their behavior.
I’m including with this letter a photograph of an iris. Judicial ethics forbid me from giving you anything of substance. In this case, I am in complete and utter violation of ethics because nothing is more valuable than an iris. Daisy is a lovely name, of course, but an iris has extraordinary power. An iris is a symbol for hope.
I have great hope for you, Ms. Bauer, hope as big as the sky. The question is, do you? As I envision you reading this letter, it is my hope that you are smiling, hanging the iris photo on your bedroom wall, and dreaming of your bright, beautiful future.
Sincerely,
Judge Franklin L. Henry
DEAR JUDGE HENRY,
I will tell you three things right now.
Number one: I smiled.
Number two: I hung the iris photo on my bedroom wall.
Number three: I bought a new red notebook so I’ll be ready when the dreams come.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I started writing stories in first grade, so my acknowledgments could exceed this book’s length. Therefore, I begin with people who taught me the value of brevity: editor Kathy Vos and professor Michael Norman. I hope they’ll understand this lapse, but I’m compelled to note people who influenced me. High school English teacher Mary Louise Olson read my work out loud and announced I had talent. Terry Davis pushed me to grow as a writer and opened his career network to me. My parents, Robert and Karen Grubb, and my sister, Cheryl, applauded career highs and supported me during personal lows. Michael Ott fueled my motivation when it waned. My Sisters in Ink and friends (J. Angelique Johnson, Kirstin Cronn-Mills, Becky Fjelland Davis, Kristin Dodge, Sally Chesterman, and Rachael Hanel) shaped my fiction, including this book. Denise Whiteside Bunkert inspired me to write full time when she made art her career, not a hobby. Nick Healy assigned a nonfiction project that led to my first critical success, Little Rock Girl 1957: How a Photograph Changed the Fight for Integration. My godchild Brittany Frary opened my heart to the joy and wonder of childhood. Brynja Johnson and Wendy Tougas, the first kids to read my early work, fostered my confidence. Joe Tougas taught me rejections were accomplishments because I’d joined the small club of writers who actually caught the eyes—if not the contracts—of editors. Mohamed Alsadig offered big hugs during tough times and, to this day, remains Minnesota’s most handsome man. Other friends gave me love and laughter: Cherie Richter, Amy Barne
tt, Dawn Schuett, Wendy McKellips, Diane Winegar, Bruce Lombard, Greg Abbott, Valerie Brouillard and the Brouillard family, Victoria Ott, Sherry Crawford, Sue Munsterman, and Donn Jenson. The Roaring Brook team brought this book into the world. And, finally, my heartfelt thanks to agent Susan Hawk, my publishing partner and champion.
Text copyright © 2014 by Shelley Tougas
Published by Roaring Brook Press
Roaring Brook Press is a division of Holtzbrinck Publishing Holdings Limited Partnership
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10010
mackids.com
All rights reserved
eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to [email protected].
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Tougas, Shelley.
The graham cracker plot / Shelley Tougas. — First edition.
pages cm
Summary: Calamity ensues when almost twelve-year-old Daisy and her sometimes best friend Graham try to break Daisy’s father out of prison.
ISBN 978-1-59643-988-7 (hardback) — ISBN 978-1-59643-989-4 (ebook) [1. Friendship—Fiction. 2. Prisoners—Fiction. 3. Escapes—Fiction. 4. Letters—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.T647155Gr 2014
[Fic]—dc23
2014003236
eISBN 9781596439894
First hardcover edition, 2014
eBook edition, September 2014
The Graham Cracker Plot Page 13
