Donutheart

by Sue Stauffacher

  “Hold up, girlie. Just where do you think you’re going?”

  Sarah narrowed her eyes and looked sideways at her aunt.

  “I told you about him. He’s bringing my skate…. Is that it?” Sarah lost her composure when she saw the backpack slung over my shoulder. She grabbed for it, but Zinny knocked her arm away.

  Sarah’s hands balled into fists.

  “Zinny is an interesting name,” I ventured, hoping to avoid another disaster. “Would that be short for Zinnia? The flower?”

  “It’s Zenobia. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “Aah, yes. After the Greek goddess.”

  “What goddess?”

  I had no idea, of course. The name did sound vaguely Greek, though, and my instincts told me that flattery was the best course of action here.

  “Why, the goddess of compassion, of kindness…of beauty.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “Mostly beauty, actually.” I swallowed hard. “But kindness as well.”

  “Where’d you learn that?”

  “I’m not sure. It might have been the library. Maybe the Internet…I could find out more if you like.”

  Zinny looked at the two of us like we were a couple of rusty pennies she had no use for. “Five minutes, on the stoop. Then you…back inside.”

  Sarah sat down with her back to the door. This did not seem to me to be the best tactical move. Plus, it was close to freezing and that cement stoop was cold! But we sat down anyway, and I put the backpack in her lap.

  “Franklin, did I say you got promise? I knew you would come. I knew it!”

  I think we both knew she was revising history. Waking up that morning, Sarah might have had a small bit of hope that I’d come. By afternoon, she’d worried it down to a shred. Who in their right mind would have believed I was capable of it? Not me, surely.

  Sarah unwrapped the skate and kissed it!

  “I been missin’ this so bad…. Hey!” Sarah tugged out the teddy bear. She squished it between her fingers. Then she looked at me with that sad/angry/confused look that I now know signals the possibility of tears. But she didn’t cry. Not right away.

  She bit her bottom lip and pressed her eyes closed, pushing the teddy bear up against her face.

  “You got feelings, Franklin. You really do. My mom gave me this.”

  We sat there for a minute in silence, the teddy bear cushioned between Sarah’s head and her thighs.

  “I’m afraid I couldn’t wait, Franklin. I have got to meet this child.”

  Gloria stood in front of us. She really did look striking in her long camel-colored coat, her high heels, and—could it be?—the Vermilion Sunset color of her lips against her smooth, dark skin.

  “It’s Gloria,” I whispered, and Sarah was off that stoop in a hot minute, throwing herself into Gloria’s waiting arms as I sat there calculating our likelihood of future success with the game of life set at Fathers: 0, Mothers: 2.

  “What’s goin’ on out here?” I jumped off the step and turned around. My principles of risk avoidance seemed to indicate that one should face Zenobia head-on.

  Gloria reached into her pocket and pulled out her card.

  “Gloria Nelots,” she said. “National Safety Department.”

  “What’s that got to do with me?” Zinny asked, letting the card flutter to the stoop. “Get back in the house, Sarah.”

  Sarah didn’t move. Gloria cleared her throat and stepped forward. “I’m concerned about the welfare of this child, given the number of safety violations here. We’ve got broken glass, curb deterioration, no railing on the porch here—”

  “Well, be my guest and get that slumlord over here to fix this mess. I ain’t liable for a house I don’t own, lady. And you’d best get off my sidewalk before I call the cops!”

  Zinny stepped back inside and demanded: “Where’s the cell?”

  Sarah took advantage of the moment to pull us close to her.

  “Offer to buy me,” she whispered.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Rent me, whatever. Money talks to Aunt Zinny.”

  I blinked at Gloria. I was definitely out of my league here.

  Gloria took hold of Sarah’s arms and looked into her eyes.

  “You want to go back to Pelican View, is that it?”

  Sarah bit her lip and nodded.

  “Now, there’s no need to call the police,” Gloria said when Zinny returned, clutching her cell phone in her fist.

  Gloria reached into her handbag and pulled out her wallet.

  “What I’d like to do is give you a little something for your troubles.”

  “You tryin’ to bribe me?” Zinny squinted at Gloria. I couldn’t tell if the look meant she was offended or getting ready to deal.

  “No, I respect you too much for that. But I do happen to have a number in Washington that advocates for fair housing. If you call this number…” Gloria extracted a pen and a little notebook from a zippered pocket in her wallet. She also produced another card. “…and tell them what your beef with your landlord is, my guess is he’ll be over to fix it in no time at all.”

  “I can’t get him to come over here when my babies are freezing,” Zinny said, disgusted. “Now, you think a long-distance call to Washington’s gonna solve my problems?”

  “No, I don’t think. I know. Make sure to tell Mr. Rhetts that Gloria Nelots is particularly interested in your case.”

  “So what do I have to do?”

  “Just loan us Sarah. We’d like to take her back to Pelican View for a few days. They miss her.”

  Zinny looked at the card in Gloria’s hand. You could see she was calculating.

  “How long?”

  “Not sure.”

  “She’s been doin’ the babysitting.”

  “Not long, then.”

  Zinny looked from one to the other of us, figuring. “So, that’s Franklin, huh?” she said to Sarah. “He don’t look so smart to me.”

  “He’s pretty smart,” Sarah said.

  “And who’s she?”

  “Gloria. She’s the one gave me the skates.”

  “So it’s safe.” Zinny shrugged and held out her hand for the phone number. “Well, don’t be gone long. And leave some of them clothes for your cousin.”

  “Yes ma’am.” Sarah darted past Zinny and up the stairs. She reappeared in less than two minutes. Her skates, tied together, dangled over her shoulder. Her clothes were stuffed in a garbage bag.

  Gloria picked her card up off the stoop and scribbled a phone number on the back. “This is Franklin’s number. For the time being, this will be her contact. Her dad can call collect.”

  “I won’t be seeing him till visiting hours, so I guess I had to make this decision.” Zinny sighed, like making the decision to loan out Sarah Kervick was a powerful burden. I, too, was experiencing deep feeling. Gloria had memorized my phone number!

  It was a homecoming to remember. Gloria called ahead and my mother was waiting, right along with Glynnis and Bernie, to welcome us back to Pelican View. Sarah had a foot out the door before the car stopped, causing Gloria to slam on the brakes and jostle my vertebrae in a most unhealthy manner. My mother held out her arms, like she had at the ice rink, like she had at the ball field, and took Sarah in with the kind of joy you’d think she could only feel for her own flesh and blood.

  Bernie and Glynnis rushed up to me.

  “Oh, Franklin, you were so brave,” Glynnis said. “How did Bartleby do?” I got the impression that Glynnis might not resist a hug from yours truly, but I kept my hands at my sides. Really, who was this girl in front of me? If she would allow a dog to lick her mouth, she might be into all manner of unhealthy activities. What did I really know about Glynnis Powell, aside from her carefully groomed exterior?

  “Well, Bartleby was not as vicious as you seemed to indicate, Glynnis. I was forced to use the state motto at one point in our journey, and he put up a good show, but he certainly didn’t attack anyone.” />
  “Oh, that’s because the Michigan state motto is only his warning signal. It’s the Nebraska state motto that means attack to kill. I didn’t want you to be responsible for any physical violence, Franklin. I’m sure you aren’t…well…you don’t seem the type.”

  “What’s the Nebraska state motto?” Bernie asked.

  Glynnis looked from me to Bernie to Bartleby, who was now licking the remnants of a Thompson Treat from her palm.

  “I better not say.”

  “Hey, you!” My mother grabbed me from behind in a bear hug. “When I get done bein’ mad that you lied to me, I’m gonna kiss you!” She covered my hair and the top half of my face with some very wet kisses before whirling me around to look me in the eye.

  “Franklin, what you did was generous and thoughtful and brave. I know you didn’t tell me because Sarah made you promise—and that was very wrong. You never should have gone on your own. We’ll have to deal with that later. But in another way, what you did was selfless…. It was right, Franklin. I mean it. I’m so proud that you’re my son.”

  And she crushed me up against her with the same fierce concentration that she’d given Sarah. My mother has said some nice things to me. But she doesn’t often tell me that she’s proud.

  “Will Sarah stay with us?”

  “For a few days.”

  I smiled.

  “What? What’s funny? Is that okay?”

  “Nothing. It’s fine.”

  First Zero. Now Sarah Kervick. I do believe the authors of the “hygiene hypothesis” would approve.

  “Well, I’ve got to catch an eight o’clock plane from Detroit this evening,” Gloria said, “but I would dearly love to see one thing before I leave this town, and that is Sarah Kervick on ice.”

  My mother consulted her watch. “Paul’s over there right now smoothing it out for the hockey league.”

  Bernie had to run home to get permission. Glynnis shook her head.

  “He’ll need to eat,” she said, taking up Bartleby’s harness.

  “Well…I guess I’ll be seeing you, Franklin.”

  I couldn’t believe how much easier it was to talk to Glynnis, now that I didn’t hold her in such high esteem. She still had some fine qualities. I’ve said it before. No one’s ears are cleaner than Glynnis Powell’s.

  “Glynnis, do you think…sometime…well, would you like to sit with us at lunch? I have some information to share with you from the American Council of Cheerleading Coaches and Advisors that I think you’ll find very interesting.”

  Glynnis covered her mouth with the hand Bartleby had just slobbered all over. This was followed by the severe dilation of blood vessels in her face. She nodded yes.

  “I almost forgot…” I reached into my jacket pocket for her kerchief. I had put it there this morning for good luck. Sadly, it was not as fresh as when I’d first laundered it. “I believe this is yours.”

  Glynnis reached out her hand. “I think it is…. Thank you, Franklin.”

  “It’s nothing…all in the line of duty. Good-bye, Bartleby.” I patted the hound. “Good-bye, Glynnis.”

  Words escaped her. She waved a hand in my direction and hurried off.

  Sarah caught up with me in the parking lot of the Pelican View Ice and Fitness Center.

  “You know what? I didn’t think you were gonna make it today. I misunderestimated you, Franklin. I sure am glad I was wrong.” She punched me in the shoulder.

  “When I undertake a project, Miss Kervick, I always see it through to its conclusion.”

  At this, she laughed, throwing her head back and looking directly at the sun before walking—shoulder to shoulder—with me into the building.

  I sat in the bleachers, wedged between Bernie and Gloria, watching Sarah Kervick move like a fish gliding through water. My mother was on the other side of Gloria, squeezing her thigh in anticipation.

  “Here it comes,” she said.

  Sarah skated backward at a dangerous speed, preparing for her single lutz as Paul methodically cleaned the rink with his two-ton roller. Only Sarah Kervick would offer her back to a Zamboni.

  “What you did was really amazing, Franklin,” Bernie said. “We should have a new name for you. It could be…Franklin the Brave-Hearted.”

  Franklin Delano Brave-Heart. I grinned. For I could easily see how, in Marvin Howerton’s small brain, that would soon be translated to Franklin Delano Donutheart.

  Sarah landed her jump and transitioned into the spin. My mother and Gloria gave her a standing ovation.

  “I saw your post on the memorial Web site,” Gloria said after she’d sat back down. “To William. Thank you.”

  “You’re most welcome, Go Go.”

  “Don’t you call me that in public.” Gloria kept her eyes on Sarah. But she was smiling.

  And Sarah…Sarah was spinning. It seemed she could go on like that forever.

  “I’m going to be honest,” Gloria said. “I don’t see how you managed that trip…the likelihood of you traveling by yourself to Grand River…well, those aren’t betting odds.”

  “I don’t know, either,” I said. “I guess, for once, I wanted to be the hero.”

  AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY

  Sue Stauffacher’s books for young readers include Harry Sue and Donuthead, the first book about Franklin and Sarah, which Kirkus Reviews called “touching, funny and gloriously human” in a starred review. To learn more about Sue, her books, and the making of Donutheart, visit her Web site at www.suestauffacher.com. Sue lives in Grand Rapids, Michigan, with her husband, Roger Gilles; her two sons, Max and Walter; her dog, Sophie; and her cat, Fig.

  Also by Sue Stauffacher

  DONUTHEAD

  My name, if you must know, is Franklin Delano Donuthead. Try saying that in a room full of fifth graders if you think names will never hurt you.

  And the name is just the beginning. Life for Franklin Delano Donuthead is decidedly unsafe. Marvin Howerton, the school bully with big fists and a small brain, has it in for him. And no one in Franklin’s life—not classmates, teachers, or even his mom—seems to understand the importance of proper sanitation. Not to mention the disturbing fact that his left arm has mysteriously grown eight-tenths of an inch longer than his right.

  Then hygienically challenged Sarah Kervick transfers to Pelican View Elementary, and Franklin’s thoroughly disinfected world is turned upside down. In less than a week, Sarah draws this neatest of fifth graders into the messiest of friendships. Franklin might actually start enjoying himself. That is, if he can just shake the fear that Sarah has head lice.

  A Book Sense 76 Pick

  “Touching, funny, and gloriously human.”

  —Kirkus Reviews, Starred

  “An appealing story with some memorable characters and a lot of heart.”

  —School Library Journal, Starred

  Also by Sue Stauffacher

  HARRY SUE

  At eleven years old, Harry Sue Clotkin already has a few strikes against her. She’s the only child of convicted felons, for one, and her best friend is a quadriplegic who won’t come out of his tree house (yes, you read that right). She’s surrounded by a swarm of little kids and stuck living with evil Granny Clotkin, whose in-home day care should be labeled hazardous to your health.

  Harry Sue’s plan is to tough up and start the life of crime that will land her in the joint with her mom. But first she’s got to get Moonie Pie out of the bathtub, Spooner out of the swamp, and Homer out of the hole (you read that right, too).

  Like Dorothy in her favorite story, The Wizard of Oz, Harry Sue’s got a long journey home. In this magical tale about a young girl desperate for a mother’s love, Harry Sue discovers that surviving may be about “toughing up,” but Living is about reaching out and finding love in the most unlikely places—even if it feels at first like taking a sucker punch to the heart.

  An ALA Notable Book

  A Book Sense 76 Pick

  “Written with humor and heart, this is intricately plotted and
full of unlikely but charming coincidences and characters of endearing eccentricity.”

  —Kirkus Reviews, Starred

  OTHER YEARLING BOOKS YOU WILL ENJOY

  DONUTHEAD, Sue Stauffacher

  HARRY SUE, Sue Stauffacher

  CORNELIA AND THE AUDACIOUS ESCAPADES OF THE SOMERSET SISTERS, Lesley M. M. Blume

  BUD, NOT BUDDY, Christopher Paul Curtis

  BELLE PRATER’S BOY, Ruth White

  UNDER THE WATSONS’ PORCH, Susan Shreve

  TROUT AND ME, Susan Shreve

  THE LEGACY OF GLORIA RUSSELL, Sheri Gilbert

  Published by Yearling, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books a division of Random House, Inc., New York

  Text copyright © 2006 by Sue Stauffacher

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law. For information address Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers.

  Grateful acknowledgment is made to Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House, Inc., and Harold Ober Associates Incorporated for permission to reprint “Poem” and an excerpt from “Passing Love” from The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes by Langston Hughes, copyright © 1994 by the Estate of Langston Hughes. Reprinted by permission of Alfred A. Knopf and Harold Ober Associates Incorporated.

  Yearling and the jumping horse design are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

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  Reprinted by arrangement with Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers

  eISBN: 978-0-375-84924-4

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