Target Page 4

  “I wasn’t ready,” Frankie explained. “A ceremony must come from within, right?”

  His grandfather nodded. “When you are ready, your eyes will see.”

  29

  “Mrs. Smith, nice to see you again,” Mrs. Howard-Hernandez said as Frankie’s mom took a seat in the chair on the other side of the desk. Frankie took the chair next to her.

  “You remember Mr. Aaron, our educational assistant,” Frankie’s teacher said. Mr. Aaron nodded and sat down next to her, and his dreads shook. “Principal Baker might be stopping by if she has time. This is always a busy night at Rondo.”

  Frankie looked oddly at his teacher. Busy? He’d seen few parents and students when they arrived. Sofia was with her mother, and Luis was with his dad. Jose had dropped out of school to work.

  “Frankie has turned out to be delight,” Mrs. Howard-Hernandez said. “I thought we’d have more of a challenge with Frankie when he announced his hatred of reading, but—”

  “I didn’t say I hated it,” Frankie blurted. “I didn’t like it ’cause I’m not good at it, and every class they just give me something dumb to read.”

  “He did a nice oral report based on the book The Outsiders,” his teacher said. “For the semester project, he’ll answer exam questions on a book called Hombre, by Elmore Leonard.”

  Frankie didn’t mention he’d yet to get the book from the library, since he’d learned the library was in the 26ers’ domain. He figured he might as well wear a target on his back in 26er territory.

  “What are your plans after high school, Frankie?” Mr. Aaron asked. “College? A family business?”

  “College,” Frankie said, to his mom’s obvious surprise.

  “I’m glad to hear you say that,” Mr. Aaron said. “Got any idea which one?”

  Frankie didn’t know anything about college except one thing: Sofia was going.

  “I would love to see him go to college,” his mom said. “I don’t know how we’ll afford it, but I’ll help you get wherever you want to be, Frankie.” She paused as her eyes welled up and her voice caught. “Anywhere other than Stillwater.”

  30

  Sofia and Frankie sat across from each other in a diner located in a run-down strip mall halfway between St. Paul and Stillwater. Maybe because it was failing, neither First Nation Mafia nor the 26ers claimed it as their turf. “Did you hear about Armando?” Sofia asked.

  “What happened?” Frankie sipped his milk-shake with his right hand and inched closer to Sofia. Under the table, his left hand and hers intertwined.

  “He got shot outside the library.” Sofia told Frankie how Armando, a friend of hers who had graduated from Rondo last year, was killed in a drive-by the previous night.

  “Do they know who did it?” Frankie dreaded the answer. Don’t say two guys in sunglasses driving a beat-up Buick, he thought. “Or why? Was it one of the gangs?”

  “The Twenty-sixers and First Nation Mafia have been going at it for years—it ain’t never gonna end,” Sofia said, a deep sadness in her voice. Frankie squeezed her hand tight.

  “Eye for an eye,” Frankie mumbled.

  “I’m so glad to be away from all of that.” She took a sip of her shake.

  Frankie wanted to ask how she jumped out. But once again, he dreaded the answer.

  “All that blood, and for what? Nothing changes. Just keep having more funerals.” Sofia looked Frankie in the eye. “I’m glad you’re not hanging with your cousins anymore,” she said.

  Frankie smiled, just a little. “I found somebody much better to be with.”

  “We’re lucky to get out,” Sofia said. “The thing about eye for an eye, it never ends.”

  Frankie thought how much he wished that weren’t true, for his own sake. “Never?”

  Sofia gazed at Frankie with her big brown eyes. She shrugged. “I guess when everybody is blind.”

  31

  Mrs. Howard-Hernandez gave Frankie a kind smile. “I understand about library fines, I’ve had some myself,” she said.

  Frankie felt bad lying to her, especially after she’d said all those nice things about him on parent-teacher night. But lying about the reason he needed her to pick up his library book shouldn’t matter, he figured. No way did he want to end up like Armando. Since the Mafia had hit a 26er, the 26ers would be looking for revenge on the same turf.

  “So, could you get the book for me?” Frankie asked.

  “I’d better do it quickly. The term is almost up. I want to make sure you stay on track to graduate in the spring.”

  “Graduate,” Frankie repeated. It had never seemed so close.

  “You know, some of our students earn enough credits to graduate after the first semester—especially if it’s their fifth year of high school. At the end of this term, we’ll have a ceremony to celebrate. All students and families are invited. You should come, to see what it’s like.”

  “I know what ceremonies are like. There’s a lot of that in my culture,” Frankie said. Those ceremonies and big events, and his grandfather, were a few of the things he missed about Riverwood.

  “Will you tell me more about them?” Mrs. Howard-Hernandez asked. But Frankie didn’t want to talk about it. He wanted to live it. He needed to get back to his grandfather at River-wood. He was ready to open his eyes.

  “Frankie?”

  “Sorry, I was just, um, I was thinking about what book I should read after Hombre. What do you think?”

  His trick worked to distract Mrs. Howard-Hernandez. As she was off and running with ideas for Frankie, he concentrated on a plan for his next visit to the reservation. He was ready for the I-ni-pi, the purification ceremony.

  32

  “Time’s up,” Jay said as he and Billy barged into Frankie’s apartment without an invite.

  “If you don’t do it, we will,” Billy added as he pushed past Frankie toward the sofa.

  I don’t want this, Frankie thought, I don’t need this. Not now, not ever again.

  It was the day before finals, and Frankie had just finished reading Hombre. To make sure no one cheated on their book report, the final in language arts was to answer questions about their book, on specific elements as well as what his teacher called “big themes.”

  “What is this garbage?” Jay grabbed the book and held it high in the air. “Hombre? Serious?”

  Billy laughed when Jay passed the book over to him. “Put it down,” Frankie said.

  “You don’t have your Twenty-sixer friends to save you now,” Billy countered.

  “I told you, those people at school, they’re not in the Twenty-sixers,” Frankie said. “I thought this was over with. Didn’t one of them get shot at the library? Doesn’t that even things up?”

  “That’s about business.” Jay bounced the book in his hand. “This is different. It’s pay-back. It’s personal. This kid’s got it coming, the nephew of the guy who did your dad.”

  Frankie thought of his talk with Sofia the other night. He didn’t want to be responsible for another “eye for an eye.”

  “No, I won’t do it,” Frankie said. He clenched his fists tighter, while his body braced for a blow.

  “Fine, we can do it. But if it’s up to us, we’re not just messin’ him up. He’s not walking outta there alive,” Jay said.

  “Who is he?”

  “He goes to your school. You might know him.”

  “Who?”

  The twins laughed. “Luis Martinez.”

  Frankie tried to stay calm. “He’s not a Twenty-sixer.”

  “His uncle is. Family ties are close enough.”

  As Jay placed a heavy Glock in Frankie’s hand, the weight of family duty felt even heavier.

  33

  “Time’s up!” Mrs. Howard-Hernandez shouted. Frankie set down his pen and looked at the pages of his blue book, filled with his thoughts not just about Hombre but about the “big theme” of identity. School gave him a final exam to test his mind; the sweat lodge in a few days would challenge his bod
y and spirit, his own identity.

  Sofia smiled at Frankie; she must have done well on the test too. Luis didn’t look as happy.

  Frankie knew that whether Luis ever smiled or breathed again might rest in his hands.

  The rest of his finals were harder, mainly because language arts had somehow become Frankie’s favorite class, something he never would’ve imagined. But most of Rondo had turned out that way. He was prepared to hate it and had grown to like it. Prepared to fail, Frankie had succeeded. He knew he’d pass every class when grades came out. He had started over.

  After school on the last day of finals, Frankie sat in the passenger seat of Sofia’s car. “Sofia, stay with me.” Frankie wouldn’t take a ride home from her, for both their safety. “I’m waiting for my mom to pick me up in an hour, and then we’re going straight to Riverwood for the break.”

  “Don’t go, I’ll miss you.” Sofia ran her hands over his stubbly head. “Why do you have to be there so long?”

  Frankie took her hand and explained the I-ni-pi ceremony as best he could.

  “It sounds really hard. Why would you put yourself through that?” Sofia asked.

  Frankie pulled her tight. “For the same reason you put yourself through what you had to do to get out of the Twenty-sixers. I don’t care what, and I don’t want to know, unless you want to tell me.”

  Sofia started to speak, but the tears came too fast, too hard.

  “I’ll think of you during the I-ni-pi,” Frankie said. “And we’ll both be purified again.”

  34

  Without a word, Frankie’s grandfather handed him the last heavy deer-hide blanket to place over the saplings to complete the sweat lodge they would soon enter. Many times, Frankie had helped his grandfather build the lodge for the I-ni-pi ceremony, but always for others. In the background, a single drum pounded rhythmically.

  “Should I—” Frankie started, but his grandfather’s harsh scowl shut him up. Frankie couldn’t recall the last time he’d gone four hours without speaking. With no words leaving his mouth, thoughts piled up in his head, heavy as the stones he’d soon carry inside.

  Stripped to just a pair of shorts, Frankie and the other young men gathered by the fire pit. Frankie knew these boys from the life he’d left behind. He was the only one without a First Nation Mafia tattoo showing on his bare arms. Frankie noticed that the opening of the ceremonial structure faced southeast, toward St. Paul and Stillwater.

  After Frankie’s grandfather finished another prayer, he gathered two stones with sharp edges. It only took him only one try to create the spark and start the blaze in the fire pit. As the kindling burned, the stones Frankie and the others had collected began to warm. The fire grew higher and hotter, but mostly louder as the snap, crackle, and pop of stones increased. All of the boys tossed gifts to the spirits—sage, sweet-grass, tobacco, and cedar—onto the fire. The smell of the fire woke up all of Frankie’s senses.

  Frankie was the last called into the lodge, but first to pour water over the steaming rocks they’d carried inside. The steam blinded Frankie as it filled the lodge; as he adjusted to it, his cleansed-self vision became crystal clear.

  35

  Everyone in the St. Paul Central High School gym was smiling. Frankie’s mom turned to the family of a graduating student and congratulated them in broken Spanish. People stood taking pictures, capturing the moment their children turned into adults, signified by a high school diploma in hand.

  The gym was crowded with all the Rondo students and their families. Mrs. Howard-Hernandez hadn’t lied: this was a big deal for everyone.

  “Mom, I’d like you to meet someone,” Frankie said.

  “Enhorabuena!” his mom said again and then joined Frankie. Across the room stood Sofia with her mom. No dad. There was no need to ask.

  The laughter of happy families washed over Frankie, and his newly purified skin soaked up the joy like a thirsty sponge. “Mom, this is my friend Sofia,” Frankie said. Sofia blushed almost as much as he did.

  Frankie’s mom and Sofia’s mom burst out together in laughter. “Nice to see you again.” Frankie’s mom extended her hand. Sofia’s mom shook it, like they were old friends.

  “What’s so funny?” Frankie asked. And what did “see you again” mean? he added silently.

  “I think the two of you are a little more than friends,” Sofia’s mother said.

  Sofia stepped closer to Frankie, hands outstretched. Frankie let them drop into his palms. “There’s a connection between girls and moms,” Sofia said.

  Frankie said nothing, but guided Sofia away from their mothers.

  The two women talked and laughed. Frankie was riveted to Sofia’s every word but was distracted when he heard Sofia’s mom say, “And this is my nephew, Luis Martinez. Next year, he’ll get a diploma. He’s got his whole life in front of him.”

  36

  “Where does this Martinez kid live?” Jay asked Frankie.

  Frankie gave him the address. Billy turned around. “It’s your lucky day, cuz,” he said, and he handed Frankie a gun. His father’s gun, the pearl-handled revolver from his dresser. “Even sweeter revenge than with the Glock.”

  Frankie eyed Billy suspiciously.

  “You shouldn’t leave such pretty things lying around your room,” Billy replied.

  “About time, Frankie,” Jay said. “If you weren’t family, cuz, no way would we have waited this long.”

  “I was trying to start over,” Frankie mumbled. The Buick sped through the crowded St. Paul streets until Frankie yelled, “Jay, where you going? This isn’t the right direction!”

  Jay cursed over Frankie telling him the route Frankie wanted him to take. About a block away, near a stretch of vacant houses, Frankie asked Jay to pull the car over. The houses were alive with layer after layer of spray paint, each gang claiming the area, then another taking it back.

  Frankie stayed calm even as he looked at the top layer: this was 26ers turf.

  “What are we doing here?” Jay asked.

  “Stop the car and get out!” Frankie shouted.

  “You crazy, cuz, this is Twenty-sixers’, I’m not getting out in this—”

  The Glock in Frankie’s left hand set against the back of Jay’s head shut him up, fast.

  “What are you doing?” Billy turned around. The barrel of the pearl-handled revolver in Frankie’s right hand pointed at Billy’s face had the same silencing effect. Jay stopped the car.

  “Get out!” Frankie repeated. “Jay, you first, then you, Billy. Don’t make me do this.”

  “Cuz, you ain’t gonna—” the cocking sound of the revolver ended Billy’s argument.

  “Leave the car running,” Frankie commanded. Jay did as he was told.

  Billy spat on the ground. “Frankie, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but—”

  Frankie cut him off. “I know what I’m doing and who I am. A brave eagle. This ends tonight.” With a steady hand pointed at Jay, Frankie pulled the trigger of the Glock.

  37

  Because Frankie had called ahead, Luis and Sofia were ready by the curb of her home when Frankie pulled up well after midnight. Luis started to make jokes as he climbed into the backseat of the Buick, but Frankie shut him down.

  “Shut up, Luis!” Frankie yelled, his throat dry from stress and smoke.

  “Where are we going?” Sofia asked. She’d asked on the phone too, but Frankie wouldn’t answer. Sofia curled up next to Frankie, who drove slow but steady. It had been a while since he’d driven, but some things a person doesn’t forget, like how to drive a car or how to fire a pistol.

  “I don’t understand, what this is about?” Luis asked.

  “Just wait,” Frankie said as they made their way out of St. Paul and through Minneapolis to head west toward Riverwood.

  “This is what it’s about.” Frankie reached under his seat and pulled out the revolver.

  “What are you doing with a gun?” Sofia asked. “You said that you weren’t—”


  Frankie cut her off quickly. “It’s not mine. This is my father’s gun.”

  “What are you doing with it?” Luis asked. Frankie didn’t answer right away. He pulled Sofia into his right side, while his left side was weighted down by the six bullets he’d taken from the Glock. He’d taken his cousins’ car and bullets, but left them with an empty gun in 26ers territory. Frankie hoped the twins were ready to gain something from their urban vision quest.

  “Frankie, answer Luis,” Sofia whispered, concerned. Frankie took a deep breath and told them both about his father’s injured eye and quest for revenge against Luis’s uncle. Frankie told Luis about his father’s role in the First Nation Mafia and his history of crime in Riverwood and in St. Paul. As Frankie spoke, it reminded him of writing his final exam. A person only understood themselves when they looked inside. Frankie hoped that, even half blind, his father could find the insight to turn his life around and not drown in the dark revenge culture of Stillwater State Prison.

  38

  After a nap at a rest stop, Frankie pulled into the Riverwood Reservation and his grandfather’s driveway just before sunrise. He left Sofia and Luis sleeping in the car as he went in to wake his grandfather.

  “Grandfather I need you!” Frankie knocked on the door.

  Minutes later, the door opened slowly, and his grandfather moved slower. “Frankie, I was not expecting you. Come inside. Does your mother know you are here?”

  “Yes.” He hoped it was the last time he’d have to lie to his grandfather.

  “What brings you here?”

  “I need your help. I need you to say this prayer.” Frankie handed him the framed Yellow Lark prayer.

  Gus looked at Frankie and out toward the car, concerned. “Is everyone OK?”

  “We’re all fine,” Frankie said. “But I need to do something. Kind of … a funeral.”

  The old man got dressed while Frankie went outside, dug a small hole in the ground, and summoned Luis and Sofia from the car. A cold early morning wind chilled Frankie as the four of them stood by the small, empty grave. As his grandfather began to speak, Frankie bowed his head, letting the tears touch the ground quicker.