Bank Job

by James Heneghan

  The Chief Inspector’s jaw dropped. He stared at us. Then he stared at the money. He stared at us again. He picked up the telephone. “Beckett? Bring in our most recent files on bank robberies, will you!”

  Chief Inspector Teal and another plain-clothes detective named Sergeant Finch asked a hundred questions, recording our replies on tape.

  I thought the questions would never end, but eventually they did. They took us home in a police cruiser. Then they interviewed Joseph and Janice in the living room for almost two hours.

  About ten days later, a summons arrived in the mail, ordering us to appear in the juvenile court the following week.

  TWENTY-TWO

  MAY 22

  The judge was a woman with a long narrow nose. She listened to an energetic young man in a gray suit and red tie describe the criminal offences. She watched the shadowy security videos from two of the banks. I could barely make out Billy leaving the bank. It didn’t look like him. It could have been anyone wearing glasses and a ball cap.

  Then the judge listened to our court-appointed defense counsel, Miss Farthingale, who looked only a few years older than me. She had blonde hair to her shoulders and a swishy black suit. She had come to the house a few days ago, asking us more questions.

  Miss Farthingale told the judge about the bathroom problem. “The three young defendants, Your Honor, were trying to raise money to have an extra bathroom installed so they would not have to leave their foster home. You see, Your Honor, regulations demand at least two full bathrooms in a house with four children. These children are very close. They did not want to see their family broken up. Staying together was worth any sacrifice to them.

  “I would also point out, Your Honor, that the defendants used no weapons of any kind during the robberies. They meant no harm and they deeply regret their actions. The children, the defendants, turned themselves in and returned all the stolen money. Not one penny is missing, Your Honor. One final point, Your Honor: the children saw their cause as a noble one.”

  “They saw robbing banks as a noble cause?” asked the judge, her eyes widening in disbelief.

  “Yes, Your Honor,” said Miss Farthingale firmly. “A noble cause indeed. Their intent was to ensure the survival of their family, a family that provides them with love and a sense of belonging, as well as security, all so critically important for young people today. Wouldn’t you agree, Your Honor?”

  “Hmmph!” said the judge.

  Miss Farthingale said, “Your Honor, if the British Columbian social services system were doing its job of looking after the welfare of needy children in this province, there would have been no need for the three defendants to rob banks in the first place.”

  “They could have been killed or seriously injured,” the judge said. “If a security guard or a police officer had started shooting, innocent bystanders might have come to harm as well. Robbing banks is an extremely dangerous game, weapons or not, noble or not.” She glared at us from her throne.

  I glared back.

  Billy looked like he was enjoying himself. His blue eyes sparkled with excitement. Tom was back to cracking his knuckles.

  The judge adjourned the case for a week.

  A week later, Joseph, Janice and we three delinquents were back in juvenile court. We sat behind a table and waited for the judge to announce her decision.

  “First of all,” she said, “I want to commend the three of you for your obvious concern for your foster parents, Janice and Joseph Hardy. It reflects well on them as caregivers. Your aim in committing these robberies was to help them. I fully understand that. I also understand that your aim was to help yourselves. You did not want to be taken away from the home and the people you love.

  “What I do not understand is why the Hardys’ home, which has an excellent history of helping young people, does not receive more support. It is homes like the Hardys’ that are so successful in keeping our youth off the streets by providing a safe and nurturing environment.

  “I asked my staff to look into the matter, and I can tell you now that emergency funds have been found. The funds to build the extra facility will be provided within the next few months.” She paused.

  I grinned at her. “Your Honor, does this mean that we won’t have to move?”

  “Ssshhh,” Miss Farthingale, whispered. “Her Honor is still speaking.”

  The judge said, “Yes, young lady. That is precisely what it means.”

  I turned to my musketeers and we exchanged smiles of relief. I felt like jumping up and yelling “Three cheers for Her Honor the judge,” right there in the courtroom. I forced myself to be still and quiet.

  “Now I will speak of the charges,” said the judge, looking at us over her glasses. “Bank robbery is a serious crime. The three of you confessed to the police that you committed seven robberies. You have returned all the money. But you endangered and terrorized the lives of many innocent people. Therefore, you must be punished. You must be made to understand that breaking the law has consequences— severe consequences. Nell Ford, Billy Galloway and Tom Okada, please stand.”

  We stood, shoulder to shoulder like the Three Musketeers.

  I felt as if we were about to be given the death sentence.

  The judge took a deep breath. “I have no other choice but to deal with you firmly. I hereby sentence each of you to twenty-eight days in the Vancouver Juvenile Detention Home, starting at the end of the school year, on July third. At the conclusion of your sentence, you will perform three hundred hours of community service. At the rate of ten hours a week, it will take seven months for you to work it off, one month for each bank you terrorized.”

  When we got outside in the hallway with Joseph and Janice, I didn’t know whether to feel depressed or excited. I said to them, “They’ll give you enough money to install the extra bathroom. Now none of us will have to move out, right?”

  They smiled happily.

  “I can’t tell you,” Joseph said, “how happy…”

  “…it makes us,” Janice said.

  “Except for—” said Joseph.

  “It’s great,” interrupted Billy, grinning like a maniac.

  “Friggin’ fantastic,” Tom agreed.

  Joseph said, “You won’t think a month in juvenile detention is so fantastic or…”

  “…the three hundred hours of community service,” finished Janice. “It’s going to be hard work.”

  “Juvie,” I moaned. I knew juvie was not a nice place. “For a whole month!”

  Joseph sighed. “It will probably be the hardest month of your life.”

  “How come?” Tom growled.

  “They work you from early morning to night. I’ve seen it so I know. You’ll be mopping floors, cleaning and scrubbing, lifting and carrying— anything and everything. Kitchen work, field work, you name it. You’re not going to like it, I promise.”

  We groaned.

  Miss Farthingale joined us. “Don’t complain,” she said. “It’s an extremely light sentence. The judge was easy on you.”

  “Easy!” said Billy. “What does she do for hard? Send you to Siberia to work on a chain gang?”

  “I knew we’d end up in friggin’ jail,” moaned Tom. He turned to Billy. “I friggin’ told you.”

  But Billy wasn’t listening. He seemed stunned. “Plus three hundred hours community work,” he groaned.

  I said nothing. What could I say? Actually, I was so happy not to be leaving Janice and Joseph that I didn’t care about the sentence. I would survive.

  TWENTY-THREE

  JULY

  Before I knew it school was out for the summer and I had to say goodbye to Liesel. I didn’t tell her I would be spending most of July in juvie. If I told her she would want to know why, and I had no intention of telling her—or anyone—the long, incredible story. They would think I was making it up.

  I told my mom that I was going away on a trip. Some trip.

  She probably forgot everything I told her as soon as I was gone
. Poor Mom.

  On the morning of July 3, Janice and Joseph drove us to what would be our home for the next twenty-eight days: the Juvenile Detention Home. Juvie.

  We started saying our good-byes in the lobby.

  “A month soon passes, especially if you’re busy,” said Joseph before they left us. “You’re all strong. You’ll be fine.”

  “We’ll be back for you on the thirtieth,” said Janice, trying to smile. “The house will be so empty without you.”

  “Think of it as a well-earned holiday for you and Joseph,” said Billy.

  “You deserve the break from us,” agreed Tom.

  I was immediately separated from the boys. I felt totally alone. The boys were lucky. At least they had each other.

  The less said about juvie the better. I didn’t like it, but it could have been worse. Breakfast, as much as you wanted, was at six. If you were late you got nothing. There were eight girls, ranging in age from eleven to sixteen. Joseph was right about the work. It was hard. We started at seven. Everyone was put to work cleaning. The supervisors were strict, but they were fair. I worked mostly in the kitchen and the laundry. Work ended at six. Then it was supper and back to the dormitory, a long room with twenty beds. Lights out was eight o’clock.

  For the first week, I ached all over.

  Most of the other girls had been there before, some of the hard cases had been there several times. They hassled me because it was my first time. I had a fight after lights out with an older girl. She kept on at me with her foul language. She took a swipe at me, but I ducked. I punched her in the stomach twice and kicked both her shins. The fight was over before it started. The other girls screamed with excitement. They left me alone after that. The night supervisor, a big woman—they were all big women—named Miss Coke, gave us a tongue-lashing. She woke us up at four-thirty the next morning to run around outside in the cold for thirty minutes wearing only our pj’s.

  Seeing Janice and Joseph when it was all over was like seeing a pair of shining angels. They hugged us. Janice was crying. I was so happy—like Christmas and Easter and my birthday and my mom’s birthday all rolled into one.

  Tom had a black eye and a band-aid on his forehead but he was grinning like he’d just won the lightweight boxing championship of the world.

  It looked to me like Billy had enjoyed being in jail. He was an inch taller and looked like he’d completed a triumphant exploration in the jungles of darkest Africa.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Saturday night, a week later, I was sitting on my bed trying to brush the juvie out of my hair and mind.

  “Will you brush my hair when you’re finished?” Lisa asked. Janice would be taking her into hospital on Monday for her operation.

  Right now, she was sitting on her bed, Pumpkin in her lap.

  “Of course. I’d love to brush your hair. Want me to braid it? It would look so cool with lots of little braids.”

  “Sure,” she said, absentmindedly patting Pumpkin’s back. “Do you think getting my tonsils out will hurt? I’m really scared.”

  “Don’t be scared, Lisa. Once your tonsils are out, no more sore throats. And you get as much jelly and ice cream as you want.”

  “Just thinking about the operation scares me. But the worst part is I’ll have to stay overnight at the hospital. All alone.” Her eyes filled with tears.

  I held her and she buried her face in my shoulder. “I sure missed you when you were away,” she murmured. “And the boys. I missed them too. But I missed you the most.”

  She felt small and thin, like her bones were twigs. “And I missed you,” I told her, patting her back. “You shouldn’t worry. I’m sure the operation will be quick. They’ll put you to sleep so you won’t feel a thing.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive. And when you wake up, we’ll all be there. Janice and Joseph and the boys and me. Our whole family.”

  “Promise?” she said, rubbing her nose on her pajama sleeve and sniffing.

  “Everything is going to be all right, Kiddo. I promise.”

  Showering and scrubbing took me longer now that I was coming home smelling of horses. I tried to get home for a shower before the others so I wouldn’t have to put up with rude comments like, “Phew! Did someone sit on a skunk or something?” from Tom. It was great having that extra bathroom. Janice and Joseph had surprised us with the new bathroom when we got home from juvie.

  My job was cleaning out the stalls and brushing the police horses. I actually didn’t mind it. I loved the horses and loved learning about them. They were starting to recognize me, especially when I brought carrots or apples for treats. I got to work with a nice First Nations woman named Denise. I was lucky. I had the best job out of the three of us.

  Billy worked at the recycling depot, sorting glass, plastic, newspapers and cardboard. He came home filthy too, though he didn’t smell as bad as I did.

  Tom’s job was the worst. He had to scrub pots and pans in the kitchen at Burnaby General Hospital.

  “Filthy smelly pots,” he complained when we were hanging out in the boys’ room one night. “Downright disgusting.”

  “Hey, Tom, my man,” Billy said. “You want to trade jobs halfway through? I’ll do your job at the hospital. And you do mine at the Recycling Centre. All that fresh air and sunshine, you’d love it.”

  “You’d do that? You’d trade with me?”

  “Sure thing. What are friends for?” Billy leaned over and gave him the two-fisted Musketeers salute. He turned to me. “What’s family for? Right, Nails?”

  “Right on. All for one and one for all,” I said, grinning at him. “By the way, I’ve gone back to my real name. No more Nails, okay?”

  Tom’s eyebrows disappeared under his spiky hair. “No more Nails?”

  “I like Nell,” Billy said and gave me one of his sweet smiles.

  If I hadn’t been lounging on the orange beanbag, I probably would have melted right there.

  “Nell is a good name,” said Tom, nodding thoughtfully, as if there had been some doubt. “My father used to say, ‘We learn little from victory, much from defeat.’”

  I looked at Billy. Billy looked at me. “What’s victory and defeat got to do with me changing my name back to Nell?”

  Tom shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

  Billy laughed. Then I laughed and Tom joined in. After everything that had happened, I was ready for my real name. I’d worn Nails long enough. It was time to be me again.

  JAMES HENEGHAN is the best-selling author of dozens of books for kids and young adults, including Safe House and Waiting for Sarah.

  NORMA CHARLES has written many books for kids including The Accomplice, winner of the Sheila A. Egoff Children’s Literature Prize.

  Norma and James both live in Vancouver, British Columbia. Bank Job was inspired by a newspaper account of three teens who robbed seven banks in Vancouver.