Freaky Fast Frankie Joe by Lutricia Clifton Page B

I mean, it’s
only
seven miles out and seven miles back.”
    Mr. Puffin laughs. “Sounds like the boy needs a break from all that studying.” He shakes his head, looking unsure. “You’d have to figure out a way to carry it.”
    â€œI already got a basket on my bike for carrying things. I delivered things for people in Laredo.”
    â€œThat a fact? How much did you charge?”
    â€œTips. I worked for tips.”
    Mr. Puffin shakes his head. “Delivery charge would be better. So much a mile, maybe.” Turning to FJ, he says, “I’m open for it. What do you think?”
    A rare thing happens: FJ smiles.
    â€œHow far out and back would that be, Frankie Joe?” he asks. “You know, seven times two?”
    â€œHuh? Oh, seven times two is . . . fourteen. Fourteen miles is easy.”
    â€œAnd if you come out twice a month, how many miles would it be? Round trip. In other words, four trips at seven miles each.”
    Is he serious? Two times a month away from the mutant ninja posse
and
the Saturday Quilt Circle?
    My heart begins to pound. “Uh, that would be . . . twenty-eight miles.”
    Oh—he’s teaching me to count by sevens!
    â€œAnd what if you come out
four
times a month?”
    My heart flip-flops like a Mexican jumping bean. I never dreamed I’d have a reason to count by sevens, but now I do: to earn money to get back home.
    I’m so excited I can’t think straight. “I don’t know right now, but I’ll figure it out before we leave today!”
    â€œOkay then,” says FJ. “You can do it if . . .”
    I hold my breath.
    â€œ. . . you wear a helmet. Won’t have you out on the road without one. I’m sure we have a spare one at the house.”
    â€œI never wear a helmet.” I watch FJ’s smile turn to a frown. “But okay. I’ll wear a helmet.” I’ll do anything to get free of Mrs. Bixby and the Quilt Circle on Saturdays.
    â€œWell now,” Mr. Puffin says, raising his eyebrows at FJ. “You’ve got an enterprising boy here.”
    Enterprising? I wonder if that’s a good thing.
    Mr. Puffin asks, “You got a name for your new business?”
    â€œYes sir,” I say without hesitating. “Frankie Joe’s Freaky Fast Delivery Service.”
6:42 P.M.
    en-ter-pris-ing \
adj
: marked by an independent energetic spirit and by readiness to undertake or experiment.
    I read the definition again before I close the dictionary, thinking, Mandy’s not the only one who’s good at business.
    Impatient to get started, I decide to make a sign for my bike. I search out a scrap piece of cardboard in the storage part of the attic and find a felt-tip marker in the desk drawer. In my best penmanship, I letter FRANKIE JOE’S FREAKY FAST DELIVERY SERVICE .
    Creeping downstairs I go to the kitchen where I know Lizzie keeps twist-ties from bread wrappers. I find four, then look for an ice pick in her odds-and-ends drawer. I punch holes in the four corners of the cardboard and push the plastic twist ties through. With everything I need to secure the sign to my bike basket, I head for the front porch. In a matter of minutes, the sign is wired on my basket, and I’m in business.
    I sneak back upstairs to my bedroom and turn in. Lying in bed, I stare at the ceiling and think about my escape-to-Texas plan. I decide to add maps to my list, just to be on the safe side.
    FJ can get more free from Triple A if he needs them . . . but I bet he won’t be driving back to Texasagain. As soon as I’m back with Mom, things will go back to normal.
    As I drift off to sleep, I start to dream. It’s the day I arrived in Clearview, Illinois. I’m sitting at the table with all the Huckabys, and Lizzie asks me to tell everyone what I’m good at. I hear myself say, “Enterprising. I’m