Boy21

The Girlfriend Formerly Known As Erin





I run back into the kitchen and say, “What is this? Is this for real?”

“It’s a chance to get out of here and start fresh,” Dad says. “Free and clear of your family history. It’s a chance at life.”

“Where did this note come from?” I ask.

“Don’t ask questions,” Pop says. “This is the real deal. A true chance. No strings attached.”

“How do we know it’s not a trap?”

“A trap? You’ve been watching too many movies,” Pop says. “If they wanted to hurt you, they’d come to the house and hurt you. They wouldn’t buy you a train ticket and hurt you in New Hampshire.”

“What did you have to do to make this happen?” I ask.

“Nothing,” Dad says. “Except promise silence.”

“I’m not stupid,” I say.

Dad and Pop look at each other.

“Let’s just say,” Pop says, “some of the older guys still feel bad about what happened to you when you were a kid, but they respected the fact that we kept our mouths shut when the cops came asking questions all those years ago. There are rules, but we’re not all monsters. Most guys do what they can when they can.”

“The train leaves in two hours, so you have to make your decision now,” Dad says. “If you go, you can’t come back to Bellmont. Ever. And you’ll have to be careful about contacting us. They’ll explain the rules to you and you’ll have no choice but to obey every one.”

“Why?”

“Those are the terms. We don’t get to ask why.”

I remember what Russ said about not being able to know why.

I sit at the table opposite Pop and Dad and notice that their physical similarities are striking. I wonder if they’re thinking I look like a younger version of them. Three generations of McManuses.

“So I’m going away on mob money?” I say quietly.

“You’re going away,” Pop says. “You’re not going to be taken care of for life. You’re just getting a ticket out of here and a chance to start over someplace better.”

I think about it and wonder about ethics. Do I really want to accept mob money, even if it’s only a little to help me relocate? Could I live with myself? After all they’ve done to my family, am I owed this?

“And if I don’t go?” I say.

Dad shrugs. “Then you go to community college and live in Bellmont for another two years, minimum. And maybe you lose your best friend forever. This is most likely a one-shot chance here.”

“Will Rod be up there? Mr. and Mrs. Quinn?”

“Don’t know,” Pop says.

I absolutely want to see Erin. But I don’t know about the rest. How can I choose between the two men who raised me—the only family I have—and the girl who’s been at my side since elementary school? It’s easy to choose between Bellmont and anywhere else, because I don’t want to end up alone rotting away in a row home drinking myself to death. I definitely want out of this town, but I don’t want to leave Pop and Dad behind.

“What do you think I should do?”

They look at their hands. Their eyes are welling up. They’ve already decided what I should do, which is why they gave me the envelope. But the final choice is mine alone.

The doorbell rings.

“That’s Russ,” I say.

“Don’t tell him anything,” Dad says.

I cross the living room, pinching myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.

When I open the door, Russ peers through the screen and says, “What’s up?”

“I’m not going to school today,” I say. “Not gonna walk in graduation.”

“Why not? You sick?”

I don’t want to lie to Russ, especially since I know this might be the last time I ever speak with him.

“What’s going on, man?” he says. “You all right?”

I think about what I can say to make him understand, and when I have it, I smile. “I just got a ticket to Hogwarts.”

“What?”

“Might be taking a train ride to a magical place that’s much better than here. Don’t tell any Muggles, okay? But I want you to know I’ll be all right.”

Russ squints through the screen for a moment before he returns my smile and says, “She finally contacted you.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that statement.”

“I have no idea what’s going on, but I feel like I should hug you.”

“We can do that.” I step outside the house.

Russ and I hug. A real hug. Four arms. Big squeeze to say all the things we can’t or maybe won’t.

“I’m not going to ever see you again, am I?” Russ says.

“Dunno.”

“Be good to yourself, Finley. I wish you a beautiful life.”

“I wish you a beautiful life too—many clear starry nights, and a few collegiate basketball records,” I say.

Russ looks into my eyes the way he did when he first came to Bellmont—like he’s communicating with me—then smiles sadly and walks away.

I watch him stride down the street and he throws a few sky punches, which I take as a sign of approval, like he’s happy for me, so I return to the kitchen.

“You going to get on the train?” Dad says.

I’m scared to leave my family. It’s hard for me to think of being anywhere but Bellmont. Then I remember the night I spent with Russ in the country, how there are other places in the world, better places, and I say, “I’d really like to see Erin.”

Pop nods once and then looks out the window. I’m surprised when he closes his eyes, fingers Grandmom’s rosary beads, and starts to mouth words. I’ve never seen Pop pray before.

Dad and I go upstairs and pack up my belongings, which aren’t much. I stuff clothes and jackets and shoes into a duffel bag. Peel a few stars off the ceiling and slip those in too. I grab my framed picture of Mom and Dad and me, from back in the day, and then I find my basketball in the garage, because maybe Erin will want to shoot around.

Pop and Dad drive me to Thirtieth Street Station in Philadelphia, and on the way there they explain that a man will meet me in New Hampshire and that I am to ask no questions—none whatsoever. He will drive me to Erin, but he won’t say anything to me at all. I’ll know who he is, because he’ll call me Lucas.

“This seems crazy,” I say. “I’m a little freaked out.”

“You’ll be fine,” Dad says.

“You’ve already been through the worst part of your life,” Pop says. “Go be with Erin. She’s a good woman who loves you—the key to your happiness. Trust me. I know, because your grandmother was an even better woman. I would do anything to be with her now. Anything.”

We park outside of a huge white building. Cars, taxis, and people are everywhere.

“Finley,” Pop says, just before I get out of the car. I turn around and am surprised to see the old man trembling. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Pop.”

“Your grandmother would have wanted you to have this.” Pop pulls her rosary beads over his head and then extends his arm toward me so that the black crucifix is dangling right in front of my face. “Maybe it will bring you luck.”

“I can’t take that.” I don’t even know what the rosary means, which prayers go with which beads, and they’ve been around Pop’s neck or fist ever since my grandmother died.

“You will take it, Finley. Put it around your neck, under your shirt. If you only wear it one day in your life, let it be today. And then pass it down to your children when the time comes.”

I put the necklace on and open the back car door to give Pop a hug. His cheek is wet when it brushes against mine.

Dad carries my bag and basketball. I follow him into the building, through what seems to be a food court, and into a beautiful room with a high ceiling and great columns. It reminds me a little of the Franklin Institute, where I saw that IMAX movie about stars and repairing the Hubble Space Telescope. I remember how Boy21 freaked out and left when he saw the space shuttle. How I wanted to follow him but wasn’t allowed.

Dad and I check the departure times on a board that changes by flipping numbers and making this ticking noise.

“That’s your train,” Dad says, pointing.

We walk to the right staircase and I get in line with my ticket and Erin’s letter in my hand.

“I really feel like I’m going to Hogwarts,” I say.

“What’s Hogwarts?”

“Never mind.” I suddenly wish I’d told Dad about Harry Potter, but this isn’t the time. Maybe I’ll send him a copy in the mail.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to give you a better childhood, Finley.”

Dad’s eyelids are trembling now too, and in front of all these strangers. I really hope he doesn’t cry. I won’t be able to get on the train if he cries.

“Dad,” I say, but nothing else comes.

“Whenever you get to missing us—if you do—”

“I will definitely—”

“Think about your old man collecting tolls at three in the morning and your legless pop drinking beer all day, wearing a diaper. Go get yourself a better life. Do whatever it takes to make a good life for you and Erin. Irish people have been leaving their homes in search of better lives for many, many years. We’re very good at it. So go make the Irish proud.”

I hug Dad and start to feel the finality of what’s happening. I start to feel the tears coming.

But then the line starts moving and it’s time to board.

“Erin will let you know the best way to contact us, but don’t worry about us, okay?” Dad says. “Be a good man.”

“Love you, Dad.”

“We love you too.” Dad sticks his hand in my pocket, but before I can check to see what he put in there he’s handing me my bag and basketball, the ticket man is asking to see my ticket, and then I’m halfway down the stairs, looking over my shoulder at Dad, who is crying now and waving good-bye from above.

The platform is full of hot sticky air, and I’m surprised that my train is air-conditioned.

After seeing other people do it, I shove my bag into the space above my seat, and then sit down.

My heart’s pounding.

I’ve never been on a train before.

I wonder if I’ll meet friends during the ride, like Harry Potter did. I start to look around, but all I see are tired and grumpy-looking adults.

I settle into the seat, reread Erin’s letter, and try to feel hopeful for the future. I wonder if New Hampshire is as beautiful as the Star Watcher’s Paradise. Erin was and is beautiful enough to make even Bellmont tolerable, so I close my eyes and imagine her face.

The train lurches forward and we pull out of Thirtieth Street Station.

A woman wearing a special train hat comes and inspects my ticket, which is sort of fun.

I watch Philadelphia and then so many towns I can’t name pass by my reflection in the window.

So much had to happen to land me on this train—thinking about that makes it feel like someone’s kicking in my skull, and then, suddenly, I’m thinking about the unfathomable stars Russ and I saw from the viewing station in the woods. We really don’t get to understand why most of the time. It’s true.

I reach into my pocket and pull out five one-hundred-dollar bills, which is more money than I have ever held in my hand, and may very well be Dad’s life savings. I think about Dad and Pop living alone without me. Who will help Pop in the bathroom and put him to bed? Why didn’t I think about that before? They loved having Erin and me around. The house will be so quiet now. Pop will probably drink even more. I start to feel guilty about leaving, like I might even cry. I grasp a handful of shirt and the four points of my grandmother’s crucifix dig into my palm.

“Where you going?” the woman across the aisle says. She’s a big lady wearing a purple dress and a little hat that matches.

“New Hampshire,” I say, before I remember that I’m not supposed to tell anyone my destination.

“Pretty country up there.”

“Hope so.”

“First time?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You going to play basketball?” she says, eyeing my ball on the seat next to me.

“I hope so—with my girlfriend.”

“You sure do hope a lot.”

I smile at her.

“Nothing wrong with hoping,” she says, and then looks out her window.

Suddenly, the reality of what’s happened hits me. Everything’s swirling in my chest. I’m so nervous. I already miss Pop and Dad. It’s hard to wrap my mind around this moment. Life can change so quickly. Maybe this is how Russ felt when he first came to Bellmont? No wonder he invented Boy21.

I don’t want to cry on the train, so I close my eyes and visualize playing basketball against Erin, and we’re little kids again in my backyard, silently shooting on the old adjustable rim.

It’s a good image, but I force my mind to see the future, what will happen when I arrive in New Hampshire.

It takes some imagining, but finally I see myself playing H.O.R.S.E. with Erin as the sun sets through the trees and the stars poke through the endless sky above. I see us holding hands, getting older through the years, even raising kids in a nice neighborhood where they won’t have to worry about the things we had to worry about. And then Erin and I are kissing on a new roof, under the same endless unknowable space above, and somehow we’re okay.





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


Many, many people have helped and inspired me along the way, and I thank all of them. The following—in one way or another—are responsible for Boy21 ending up in your hands: Doug Stewart and everyone at Sterling Lord Literistic; Alvina Ling, Connie Hsu, Bethany Strout, Emma Ledbetter, Ames O’Neill, and everyone at Little, Brown; Megan, Micah and Kelly, Mom and Dad, Barb and Peague, Uncle Pete, Big H and Dink; Roland Merullo; Evan James Roskos; Mark Wiltsey; Dr. Len Altamura and Kate Cranston; Bill and Mo Rhoda; Tim and Beth Rayworth; Jean Wertz; Wally Wilhoit; Canadian Scott Caldwell; Peruvian Scott Humfeld; Heather Leah; Liz Jensen; Sara Zarr; Dave Tavani; Kent Green and Ernie Rockelman (aka Emerald Productions); Lars and Drea (L.A. Auto!); Scott Warnock; Drew Giorgi; and, most of all, my wife / therapist / first reader / editor / cheerleader / love of my life / muse / best friend, Alicia Bessette (aka Al).