Read Online House Arrest by K.A. Holt - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: K.A. Holt
Tags: ISBN 978-1-4521-4084-1, Diaries—Juvenile fiction. 2., Juvenile delinquents—Juvenile fiction. 3., Detention of persons—Juvenile fiction. [1. Novels in verse. 2. Diaries—Fiction. 3. Juvenile delinquency—Fiction. 4. Detention of persons--Fiction.], I. Title.
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through the front door
dropping her bag
like she always does
saying,
Fo shizzle, whoâs in the hizzle?! like she always does
because she is a huge dork.
And this lady,
this Carla Ramirez ,
oh my god, James,
her face.
I wouldâve laughed
if I wasnât so scared.
So you finally did it. Thatâs what I yelled at Mrs. B.
The words flew from my mouth
like angry bees
buzzing around the room.
She actually took a step back,
the smile leaving her face
just disappearing in one second.
Timothy?
You called social services!
You called Carla Ramirez!
How could you?!
HOW COULD YOU?!
The bees were in my head after that
buzzing buzzing buzzing
getting tangled up in my thoughts
getting lost in my bloodstream
making my fingers tingle and burn.
I picked up the plant,
the one with crinkled leaves,
the one that sits beside the computer,
and I threw it
hard
against the wall
where the pot shattered
made a loud crashing noise
and Mrs. B jumped back
her mouth turning into a big O and the door flew open.
Mom.
We were a triangle.
No one saying anything,
just breathing.
I could hear so much breathing.
Well ,
Mrs. B said.
Her voice was a little shaky.
Well ,
she said it again, not shaky this time.
I donât know if this makes you feel better but
I did not call them.
I talked to them when they called me
but I did not instigate the visit.
I let the words settle into my brain
like smoke calming the bees.
OK , I said.
O K ? Mom said.
OK . Mrs. B nodded.
Mom went back to the waiting room.
Mrs. B ran her hands through her hair.
She looked at me hard.
A long look into my guts.
I looked back instead of looking away.
I held her stare for once.
I counted like she taught me to.
I breathed like she taught me to.
OK , I said again.
How about a little time on the computer, Timothy? Mrs. B stepped over the broken plant
turned on the monitor
looked right into my guts again.
And my guts looked back.
They said, Sorry .
They said, Iâm so sorry, Mrs. B .
Iâm so, so sorry .
Dear Dr. Sawyer,
You must be pretty busy
with all of the baby fixing you do,
but I am still wondering
how it works
when the baby who needs to be fixed
lives in Texas
and you are in Ohio.
Do we just come find you?
At your hospital?
Make a regular appointment?
And we stay at a hotel?
How much does it all cost?
(I need actual numbers, please.)
How long does the fixing take?
Please write back.
Please write back really soon.
Timothy Davidson
What if Dr. Sawyer finds out?
I mean, about Carla Ramirez,
CPS Flying Squirrel Extraordinaire.
What if he thinks weâre too messed up?
What if he thinks No crazy Texas people for me ?
What if he thinks we could never get enough money?
What if he doesnât care if we DO get enough money?
What if he thinks the whole family has failure to thrive?
Weâre going to need money,
moolah,
cash,
green,
dollars,
Ben Franklins.
If I get it all together
and give it to Mom
she has to say yes to Cincinnati.
Right?
Well, if Dr. Sawyer says yes to the fixing part.
Saying yes to the fixing part is a very tricky part.
So many parts!
Will you be a part, Mrs. B?
James?
When school starts again,
should I talk to the Carnival people?
I could really do it.
I could try to make them part of this, too.
The biggest part, even.
So Levi wonât be apart from me and Mom,
and I can be a part of making it all better.
Flip-flops beside my bed
like two dried-up slugs
having suddenly appeared
from nowhere.
I picked them up
put them in the trash can,
the big one
in the kitchen.
I am not wearing those on my feet,
Dadâs old flip-flops.
My feet can sweat
in too-small shoes and too-hot socks
all summer long
I donât care
thank you very much.
WEEK 30
I hate it when you drive the van, James,
the Juvenile Probation van
with that logo on the side.
Do you really have to drive the van?
What happened to your dumb red car?
That dumb red car looks so much better in
the driveway
than the awful van
shouting to the neighbors
HEY JUST IN CASE YOU FORGOT
TIMOTHY IS A
dropping her bag
like she always does
saying,
Fo shizzle, whoâs in the hizzle?! like she always does
because she is a huge dork.
And this lady,
this Carla Ramirez ,
oh my god, James,
her face.
I wouldâve laughed
if I wasnât so scared.
So you finally did it. Thatâs what I yelled at Mrs. B.
The words flew from my mouth
like angry bees
buzzing around the room.
She actually took a step back,
the smile leaving her face
just disappearing in one second.
Timothy?
You called social services!
You called Carla Ramirez!
How could you?!
HOW COULD YOU?!
The bees were in my head after that
buzzing buzzing buzzing
getting tangled up in my thoughts
getting lost in my bloodstream
making my fingers tingle and burn.
I picked up the plant,
the one with crinkled leaves,
the one that sits beside the computer,
and I threw it
hard
against the wall
where the pot shattered
made a loud crashing noise
and Mrs. B jumped back
her mouth turning into a big O and the door flew open.
Mom.
We were a triangle.
No one saying anything,
just breathing.
I could hear so much breathing.
Well ,
Mrs. B said.
Her voice was a little shaky.
Well ,
she said it again, not shaky this time.
I donât know if this makes you feel better but
I did not call them.
I talked to them when they called me
but I did not instigate the visit.
I let the words settle into my brain
like smoke calming the bees.
OK , I said.
O K ? Mom said.
OK . Mrs. B nodded.
Mom went back to the waiting room.
Mrs. B ran her hands through her hair.
She looked at me hard.
A long look into my guts.
I looked back instead of looking away.
I held her stare for once.
I counted like she taught me to.
I breathed like she taught me to.
OK , I said again.
How about a little time on the computer, Timothy? Mrs. B stepped over the broken plant
turned on the monitor
looked right into my guts again.
And my guts looked back.
They said, Sorry .
They said, Iâm so sorry, Mrs. B .
Iâm so, so sorry .
Dear Dr. Sawyer,
You must be pretty busy
with all of the baby fixing you do,
but I am still wondering
how it works
when the baby who needs to be fixed
lives in Texas
and you are in Ohio.
Do we just come find you?
At your hospital?
Make a regular appointment?
And we stay at a hotel?
How much does it all cost?
(I need actual numbers, please.)
How long does the fixing take?
Please write back.
Please write back really soon.
Timothy Davidson
What if Dr. Sawyer finds out?
I mean, about Carla Ramirez,
CPS Flying Squirrel Extraordinaire.
What if he thinks weâre too messed up?
What if he thinks No crazy Texas people for me ?
What if he thinks we could never get enough money?
What if he doesnât care if we DO get enough money?
What if he thinks the whole family has failure to thrive?
Weâre going to need money,
moolah,
cash,
green,
dollars,
Ben Franklins.
If I get it all together
and give it to Mom
she has to say yes to Cincinnati.
Right?
Well, if Dr. Sawyer says yes to the fixing part.
Saying yes to the fixing part is a very tricky part.
So many parts!
Will you be a part, Mrs. B?
James?
When school starts again,
should I talk to the Carnival people?
I could really do it.
I could try to make them part of this, too.
The biggest part, even.
So Levi wonât be apart from me and Mom,
and I can be a part of making it all better.
Flip-flops beside my bed
like two dried-up slugs
having suddenly appeared
from nowhere.
I picked them up
put them in the trash can,
the big one
in the kitchen.
I am not wearing those on my feet,
Dadâs old flip-flops.
My feet can sweat
in too-small shoes and too-hot socks
all summer long
I donât care
thank you very much.
WEEK 30
I hate it when you drive the van, James,
the Juvenile Probation van
with that logo on the side.
Do you really have to drive the van?
What happened to your dumb red car?
That dumb red car looks so much better in
the driveway
than the awful van
shouting to the neighbors
HEY JUST IN CASE YOU FORGOT
TIMOTHY IS A
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