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“Oh, Great Spirit, whose voice I hear in the winds and whose breath gives life to all the world, hear me. I am small and weak. I need your strength and wisdom. Let me walk in beauty, and make my eyes ever behold the red and purple sunset. Make my hands respectful of the things you have made and my ears sharp to hear your voice. Make me wise so that I may understand the things you have taught my people. Let me learn the lessons you have hidden in every leaf and rock. I seek strength, not to be stronger than my brother, but to fight my greatest enemy—myself. Make me ready to come to you with clean hands and straight eyes, so when life fades, as the fading sunset, my spirit will come to you without shame.”
After the final words, Freddie dropped the pearl-handled revolver—and everything it represented in his family’s life—into the ground and gently kicked the dirt over his father’s gun.
39
After seeking his grandfather’s wisdom, Frankie had called his mom, seeking forgiveness. To do so, she said, he first needed to confess his wrongs. As he did, his mom’s reactions wavered from sighs to the occasional, “Why, Frankie, why?” He’d had his mom check on the twins, who had made it home alive, which meant Frankie and his mom might not be safe. The only choice, it seemed, was to move again. As Frankie drove back from Riverwood, his mom found them a place much closer to her work and Rondo, but much farther from the prison.
Back in St. Paul that evening, Frankie dropped Sofia off first. Once she had left the car, Luis spoke up. “Thanks, bro.”
Frankie’s fist bumped his. “It’s got to end with us,” Frankie said. “Or we’ll be just like the rest of our family, going through the prison’s revolving doors.”
When Frankie got back to his building, his mom was waiting out front for him.
“Frankie, I’m so glad you’re home.” His mom ran her hands over her son’s head of hair, slowly growing back in, as she climbed into the car. He looked like himself again.
“Can we find a library by the new apartment?” Frankie asked. She nodded.
“Can I ask something else?” Another nod. “Why are we moving farther away from Dad?”
She hesitated.
“I mean, I thought we moved here because you wanted me to see him.”
Frankie saw her fighting back tears. Finally she answered.
“A true brave eagle wouldn’t live in a cage. You needed to see his cage,” his mom said.
“You just wanted me to see the prison?” Frankie mumbled, confused.
She was clear-eyed now. “The path you were on, the friends you had, the choices you made,” she said. “We didn’t move here so you could see your father. We moved here so you could see your future, Frankie. And change it.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
As I was researching this book, I found several articles in the Minneapolis and St. Paul newspapers about imprisonment of leaders of the Native Mob gang. In the past, whenever there was a crackdown on gang leaders, it cooled gang activity for a while as younger gang members fought for control.
Around the same time, I observed a large influx of American Indian men and boys in the short-term county correctional facilities where I work. These were men I’d seen before: for them, the prison gates they kept entering year after year, generation and generation, were like a revolving door. While there are many factors that cause this phenomenon, perhaps two key ones are generational poverty coupled with the disgraceful history of the treatment of the United States’ native peoples.
The prayer in chapter 38 is from Chief Yellow Lark, ca. 1887. It can be found in Honoring the Medicine: The Essential Guide to Native American Healing, by Kenneth Cohen (New York: Ballantine Books, 2003, p. 193).
It is always tricky to write about or from the point of view of a different culture. In this book, I tried to be sensitive in portraying American Indian culture. In addition to my own research, Brent Chartier, who has coauthored books with me, brought his expertise around ceremonies such as smudging from his time working at an American Indian health clinic in Michigan.
Finally, as with all the books in The Alternative series, thanks go to the students and teachers at South Saint Paul Community Learning Center who read and commented on the manuscript, in particular John Egelkrout, Mindy Haukedahl, Kathleen Johnson, and Lisa Seppelt.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Patrick Jones is the author of more than twenty novels for teens. He has also written two nonfiction books about combat sports: The Main Event, on professional wrestling, and Ultimate Fighting, on mixed martial arts. He has spoken to students at more than one hundred alternative schools, including residents of juvenile correctional facilities. Find him on the web at www.connectingya.com and on Twitter: @PatrickJonesYA.