Mr. Grandy was coming up behind us. He honked.
“Uncle June, Mr. Grandy wants us,” I said. “Uncle June, pull over.”
Uncle June stopped the car and all of us looked back and watched Mr. Grandy climb out of his truck and walk over to us. “I thought that was you, June.” I noticed a small envelope in his hand. “How you doin’ up there in Benson?”
“Doin’ pretty good. Finally movin’ my family up there.”
“I heard. We all gonna miss Lil and Lydia, and the children, too.”
My eyes latched onto the envelope he was using to gesture with. “How you doin’?” he asked Mama and Auntie.
“Fine,” Mama said, speaking up first. “Just trying to get to our train before it go off and leave us.”
“Oh, sure,” Mr. Grandy said, bringing the letter up near his eyes. “I saw this being put in your mailbox right after you pulled away. Francie almost missed it.” He handed it to me while everyone turned their puzzled faces to me. I checked the postmark, just as puzzled. California. My breath quickened. All waited. Mama and Auntie and Uncle June had practically turned all the way around in their seats.
“It’s from California,” I said.
“California,” they said together.
Mama recovered first. “Open it, Francie. See who it’s from.”
I knew who it was from. Even before I tore off the end of the envelope, blew in it, and let the contents fall in my lap. Prez tried to grab the postcard that had fallen out, but I was quicker.
It was just a picture postcard. Of an orange grove. For the second time that day, my eyes filled with tears, and I looked out the window to hide my face, then realized Mr. Grandy was out that window, looking right at me.
“Who’s it from?” Mama said impatiently.
I brought the envelope up to my face as if I didn’t know and had to read the return address. Of course there wasn’t one. My name was written in a child’s script, full of struggle, it looked like. Then: Three Notch Road. Then: Noble, Alabama. Jesse hadn’t been in school long enough to learn to write. Someone must have helped him.
“You gonna tell us who that postcard’s from, Francie?” Uncle June asked.
“It’s from Jesse Pruitt,” I said.
Mama opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Auntie looked at Uncle June, and Prez and Perry said “Wow!” at the same time.
“He got himself out to California,” I said.
“Well, why you crying?” Mama asked.
“I didn’t think he ever would …”
Mama smiled at me. Mr. Grandy backed away from the car and let us get going. He waved at us and we waved back. I slipped the postcard in my War and Peace, deciding I was going to use it for my new bookmark. That way, I’d be looking at that picture of oranges growing on trees for a long, long time and thinking about Jesse making it and deciding—I could, too.
Copyright © 1999 by Karen English
All rights reserved
eISBN 9781429929646
First eBook Edition : April 2011
First edition, 1999
The excerpt from “Dreams” is reprinted by permission of Alfred
A. Knopf, Inc., from Collected Poems by Langston Hughes.
Copyright © 1994 by the Estate of Langston Hughes
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
English, Karen.
Francie / Karen English.—1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: When the sixteen-year-old boy whom she tutors in reading is accused of attempting to murder a white man, Francie gets herself in serious trouble for her efforts at friendship.
ISBN 0-374-32456-5
1. Afro-Americans—Juvenile fiction. [1. Afro-Americans—Fiction. 2. Race relations—Fiction. 3. Schools—Fiction. 4. Friendship—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.E7232Fr 1999
[Fic]—dc21
98-53047
Francie Page 14
