Jojon, Not Jones

Chapter Three

I didn't care that Todd Amos was twelve years old, I didn't care that he was twice as big as me, and I didn't care that his mother was being paid to take care of me. I wasn't about to let anybody call me Jones and stick a pencil up my nose all the way to the R.

I swung as hard as I could at Todd's big balloon head. Somewhere between the time I threw my punch and the time it landed my fist came open and when my hand landed it made a pop like a .22 rifle going off. Todd fell on the floor like he'd been coldcocked.

He sputtered and muttered and felt the spot where I'd slapped him. Then a big smile came on his face and he stood up and started walking real slow toward where I was on the bed. He untied his robe and dropped it on the floor like he was getting ready to do some hard work.

I jumped to the floor and got my fists up. Todd might've been a lot bigger than me but he'd better be ready, this wasn't going to be a bird's nest sitting on the ground for him. He could kiss my wrist if he thought I was going to let him whip me up without a good fight.

Being this brave was kind of stupid. Even though Todd was a puffy, rich old mama's boy who wore a robe and slippers he could hit like a mule and it wasn't too long before I'd decided enough was enough. But the story that Mrs. Amos was hearing from her lying son was only that Todd had tried to wake me up so I could go to the bathroom.

Mrs. Amos hated bed wetters more than anything in the world and my bed had a sticky, hot, smelly rubber baby sheet on it. She'd said it wasn't anything personal and after I had proved myself for two or three months I could get a proper cloth sheet but until then she had to protect her mattress.

She pulled Todd to his feet and led him to the door. She looked over at me. "You are a beastly little brute and I will not tolerate even one night with you under my roof. Who knows what you would be capable of while we slept?"

The door shut behind them and I heard a key jiggle in the lock.

I plugged the right side of my nose and tried real hard to blow the smell of rubber out of the left side.

The key jiggled in the lock again. This time when the door opened Mr. Amos was standing with Mrs. Amos. He was carrying my suitcase. Uh-oh, they'd looked inside. I could tell because the twine that held it together was tied in a kind of knot that I didn't know.

This was wrong. They'd promised they'd keep it safe and not look in it. They'd laughed at me when I made them promise: but they did promise.

"Boy," Mrs. Amos said, "I am not the least bit surprised at your show of ingratitude. Lord knows I have been stung by my own people before. But take a good look at me because I am one person who is totally fed up with you and your ilk. I do not have time to put up with the foolishness of those members of our race who do not want to be uplifted. In the morning I'll be getting in touch with the Home and, much as a bad penny, you shall be returning to them. I am a woman of my word, though, and you shall not spend one night in my house."

She looked at her husband. "Mr. Amos will show you to the shed tonight and you can come back in tomorrow for breakfast before you go. I do hope your conscience plagues you because you may have ruined things for many others. I do not know if I shall ever be able to help another child in need, I do know I shall not allow vermin to attack my poor baby in his own house."

She talked like this and she wasn't even a preacher or a teacher. Shucks, she talked strange like this and she wasn't even a librarian.

I only halfway listened to what Mrs. Amos was saying, I was too busy keeping my eye on my suitcase wondering if they'd stolen anything from it. And thinking about getting even.

When I thought she was done talking I reached my hand out for my suitcase but she told Mr. Amos, "Oh, no. we shall hold on to his beloved valuables." She laughed. "This shall be our assurance that nothing comes up missing from the house and that this little animal is still here in the morning. He is far too attached to those treasures to go anywhere without them."

Mrs. Amos was one of those grown-ups who could always think of one more thing to say. "And that is not all. Before you retire to the shed you shall go to Todd and apologize or I shall be forced to give you the strapping of your life."

I'd been so worried about my suitcase that I didn't even notice the thick black razor strap hanging out of Mrs. Amos's hand.

She didn't have to worry, I'd apologize. One beating from these Amoses was enough for me.

She grabbed my arm. Mr. Amos walked out of the room with my suitcase, and Mrs. Amos pulled me down the hall to Todd's room. We stood outside the door listening to Todd groan. When Mr. Amos came back, my suitcase was gone. He'd been so quick that I knew my bag couldn't be too far away.

She tapped on Todd's door and said, "Teddy, may we come in?"

Todd's groans got a lot louder. Finally he said, "Yes, Mother'-choke ... cough- "come in."

We opened the door and as soon as he saw me Todd got a real terrified look on his face. He scooched up to the headboard and wrapped his arms around his head.

Mrs. Amos gave me a shake and said, "Well?"

I put my head down and started shooting apologies out like John Dillinger shoots out bullets. I aimed at Todd first. "I know it was wrong of me to hit you. I know you were only trying to help and I'm very sorry for what I did."

I looked at Mr. Amos. "And sir, I'm sorry that I got you out of your sleep."

He rolled his eyes like that was enough for him. Mrs. Amos was going to be the hardest because just like her ears were set to believe everything that came out of Todd's lips they were set not to believe anything I said. And if I didn't lie good enough she was going to use that strap on me. These Amoses might look like a bunch of cream puffs but if she was anything like Todd I bet she could pack a real wallop.

"And Mrs. Amos, I'm so grateful for all of your help. And I'm really, really sorry"

I looked up and could see she needed more. "If you give me another chance I promise I'll do a whole lot better. Please don't call the Home, please don't send me back." Shucks, going back to the Home was just what I wanted to do, but I was being just like Brer Rabbit in one of the books Momma used to read to me at night when he yelled out, "Please, Brer Fox, don't throw me into the pricker patch, please, please!"

This was another one of Jojon Crichton's Rules and Things to Have a Funner Life and Make a Better Liar of Yourself.