I put Tex’s knob in there too.
I turn to leave, then stop.
I got to say this out loud to make it real.
“Luis, thanks for being my friend.”
EPILOGUE
IT’S BEEN A COUPLE YEARS SINCE WE LOST LUIS.
I still get these waves of sadness that are strong enough to knock me down. It’s hard to tell when they’re gonna come. Sometimes the waves come when I’m really happy. It’s like opening myself up to feeling great opens me up to feeling everything, including the ass-kicking pain of loss.
These days I spend a lot of time with people who make me happy. For a long time, it was just me and Ginny and Bill … and Gilbert. I love my grandparents, but we’re a small family. Now it’s different. Since Luis died, I’m surrounded by other great people. People I know because of him.
Like Mr. Graves. I check in on him every couple days. We talk and he teaches me how to make his famous bread and cinnamon rolls. And if I don’t stop by for a few days, I get a call from Tre or Quintel asking me if I’m okay.
Leyla invites me over to spend time with her boys and Leticia. And she’s got me volunteering at the hospital, saying hi to patients who don’t get visitors. Sometimes Leticia comes and we talk to people together.
Ginny and Bill threw me a surprise birthday party this past year. They invited the whole gang—including Rupe and Dave—and a few friends I made at school.
Rupe is spending a lot of time with us. It’s to the point where he’s got some of his own stuff over here. Bill takes us fishing on weekends and Ginny mothers him like she mothers me. It’s a little embarrassing, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Dave drives all the way out from Aberdeen a couple times a month. The three of us get together in the garage and jam on some Nirvana tunes. Okay, they try to jam while waiting for my scrambling fingers to find the right chords.
We have yet to officially rock.
But rock we shall!
I’ve even started writing some. I work on the school newspaper with Julisa. We hang out and help each other on our stories. Mostly she helps me, but she’s nice enough to pretend it’s a two-way street. I’ve been writing poems and lyrics, too. Unfortunately, they’re not on paper. They’re in my head, waiting for me to get the nerve to write ’em down. I’ve got to soon because thanks to Leticia, Luis’s typewriter is in my closet. I swear, every time I go in my room I can hear the thing nagging me to haul it out and get those keys popping. I can’t put it off much longer.
So much has changed for me since I met Luis.
But one thing never will. It still rains in Des Moines. The world still turns dark and gray. But now when the view is a big, murky fuzz and I’m forced to turn inward, it’s not a bad thing because my head’s stuffed full of images that make me smile. Images of amazing people. Images of great experiences. And one image that I’ve been seeing a lot these days. It’s a picture of a young poet and a crusty ol’ test pilot laughing their asses off in the cockpit of a barrel-rolling heaven-bound jumbo jet.
Acknowledgments
This book came to life due to the combined efforts of these great folks.
Thank you to:
My family, Charlie, Maria and Laura Scott, and Maria Hernandez for their ongoing support and encouragement.
Aldo Velasco, for turning me into a writer.
Jennifer Christenson Wong and Kate Cassidy, for hosting the classroom poetry slams that inspired this story.
Kate Cassidy and Christopher Carter, for lending their names and voices.
Kirsten Heiken and Laura Lee-Walrond, for treating my shabby first drafts so seriously that I had to keep on writing.
Cristian and Moises Marquez, for sharing their thoughts on kids and gangs.
Carrie Stueck, for all the stories about her African Grey parrot.
Dave Couture, for the Nirvana inspiration.
Amy Amundson, Theresa Lucrisia-Bradley, Heidi Raykeil, Meg Richman, Wendy Rasmussen, and Cristian Uriostegui for their thoughtful feedback.
Donte Felder, for sharing his infectious enthusiasm for writing.
My mother-in-law Maria Flores, Kay Greenberg, and John Brockhaus, for using their students as Jumped In focus groups.
Authors Randy Powell and Anne Gonzalez, for much-needed encouragement and advice.
Chris Baker, John Brockhaus, Vince Delaney, and Molly Hall, for multiple deep reads and essential feedback that helped me prepare this book for submission.
Steven Chudney, for believing in Jumped In, for believing in my potential, for making rejections feel like part of a greater strategy, for keeping me focused on what’s important.
Christy Ottaviano, for plucking Jumped In off the stack, for crossing out so many words that were getting in the way, for pushing me to fill in the holes, and for treating this project with such kindness and warmth.
My wife, Emma Flores-Scott. Emma, thank you for all the reads, for the ideas, for the time, for the sacrifices, and for humoring me by caring deeply about people who exist only on a page. Thanks for making me feel that the years of effort would add up to something in the end. I love you.
Patrick Flores-Scott currently teaches drama. He has written for theater and the slam poetry stage. Jumped In is his first novel. He lives in Seattle with his wife and son.
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Copyright © 2013 by Patrick Flores-Scott.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Flores-Scott, Patrick.
Jumped in / Patrick Flores-Scott. — First edition.
pages cm
Summary: In the two years since his mother left him with his grandparents in Des Moines, Washington, Sam has avoided making friends and perfected the art of being a slacker, but being paired with a frightening new student for a slam poetry unit transforms his life.
ISBN 978-0-8050-9514-2 (hardback)—ISBN 978-1-4668-3715-7 (e-book)
[1. Interpersonal relations—Fiction. 2. High schools—Fiction. 3. Schools—Fiction. 4. Poetry—Fiction. 5. Mexican Americans—Fiction. 6. Family life—Washington (State)—Fiction. 7. Des Moines (Wash.)—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.F33435Jum 2013 [Fic]—dc23 2013018844
First Edition—2013 / Designed by Ashley Halsey
eISBN 9781466837157
Jumped In Page 14
