Finn (24 page)

When we pulled into the driveway in front of the Colonial, a black man in white gloves and a silk top hat opened the door for me. He smiled at me like a robot. I said “Thank you,” like a robot. It seemed perfectly normal at the time. I was sealed up in the hotel’s revolving door before it occurred to me that elevator men weren’t really extinct. It’s amazing how quickly you fall back on unthinking habits.

The lobby felt unthinking, too, with its artificial flowers and muzak and ritzy furniture. All the guests were white. So were the people behind the counter. There were two black men, but they were wearing tight hotel uniforms which blended in with the wallpaper. They looked uncomfortable and bored. They smiled when they realized I was looking at them. My grandmother said, “Isn’t this a nice place?”

“Sure,” I said, “if you’re into apartheid.”

My grandfather’s face soured. “This is a first class hotel,” he said.

My grandmother took his arm. “I thought we were all going to try,” she said.

They showed me my room, which had an automatic lock on the front door. It opened with a white credit card. Their room was connected to mine by an inside door. They showed me the swimming pool up on the roof, which had an unbelievable view of the city. I stood for a few minutes at the edge of the roof, leaning against the guard rail and watching the night traffic.
Finally,
I thought,
something to show Marian.

Looking out on the city, I thought about James. I wondered if he was safe at his aunt’s house. I couldn’t seem to find the projects. I went all around the roof, but never saw those marooned apartment towers.

Josh was waiting for us when we got back to our rooms, his hands squirming behind his back as if he was practicing how to escape from handcuffs. It was the first time I’d seen him nervous. My grandmother invited him out to the balcony and ordered iced tea from room service. She sounded like someone from an old black and white movie. I realized she was making a conscious effort to sound like that.

The problem, Josh told us, was that my mother had escaped from police custody. My grandfather just about blew a gasket when he heard that, but my grandmother told him to calm down, indicating me with her eyes—as if his little tantrum in front of me was worse than the news itself!

I told Josh I was less worried for me than I was for my grandparents, because my mother had threatened their lives. He said he understood that, but wanted us all to rest assured. He said she wasn’t likely to be much of a threat. He pulled out a blurry photograph of my mother, taken through a windshield. Her hair was bleached and permed, but there was no mistaking her. Josh said the photo had been taken at the border.

“With Mexico?” I asked. Josh nodded.

“Coming or going?”

“Going,” he said.

“That poor country!” I said. Josh laughed. He said that the border police had my mother’s information. They had standing instructions to arrest her if she ever tried to cross back into the States.

“Good riddance,” my grandfather said.

“Amen,” my grandmother said. In their minds, everything was settled.

“There are plenty of ways across a border,” I said, and I was right, too. All it took was wanting it bad enough. Just look at Silvia. Or me, with my father.

But the grown-ups had spoken. I was back to being irrelevant. Josh thanked my grandmother for the tea and got up to leave. He asked me if I’d walk him to the door.

When it was just the two of us out in the hallway, he said, “I want you to try to take it easy. And call me if you need to. For any reason. It doesn’t have to be an emergency.” He handed me his business card, which for some reason smelled even more like barbershop powder than the rest of him. I pressed the card to my forehead, pretending to memorize it through telepathy. I wanted to tell him how incredibly much he reminded me of my father, but that would have been inappropriate, so instead I asked him to sign my cast. I gave him my cast-signing Sharpie. Without complaining or making a joke, he steadied my elbow and wrote his name on the plaster, right next to Silvia’s.

“Don’t throw this away,” he said, tapping the cast. “Someday it may be worth something.”

“Or not,” I said.

“Here’s your pen back,” he said. “I’m serious about you calling me. Even if it’s the middle of the night.” He was trying to wrap things up, but I knew he wouldn’t go until I said it was okay to.

It would have been childish to stand there all night enjoying my power over him, so I finally dismissed him with a dry peck on the cheek. Things got a little dreamy after that. The hallway seemed to extend like a telescope as Josh walked away, waving without looking back. The thick hotel carpet swallowed his footsteps. I waited until I heard the elevator come for him. Then I went back inside, closing the door behind me as gently as I could. When I let go of the doorknob, the automatic lock clapped shut. It startled me. Loud noises will still do that, even though I know they’re coming.

Matthew Olshan is a freelance writer and producer. A native of Washington, DC, he was educated at Harvard, Johns Hopkins, and Oxford Universities. He lives in Baltimore, Maryland with his wife and daughter.
Finn: a novel
is his first published work of fiction.

A Book of the Month Club/Teen People Book Club Selection

“Young adults should be transfixed by Chloe Wilder’s ‘been there,’ hilarious, and relevant narrative. Olshan keeps the action interesting. . . His
Finn: a novel
is compellingly entertaining throughout.”
—Gary Packard, head of the Teachers’ Reading Resource

“A smart, provocative re-imagining of Twain’s novel, catapulted into contemporary culture. Paired with
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,
it will make for powerful classroom discussions about values, class, literary influence, and stereotypes.” —
Rachel Eisler, former English Dpt. chair, Bryn Mawr School

“An urban epic with a balance of toughness and humor reminiscent of Mark Twain’s Mississippi writings. . . Chloe Wilder rings true. She will be a hero to young readers, and a reminder to older ones of the oft-forgotten resiliency and intelligence of childhood.”—
Joshua McKeon, librarian, Folger Shakespeare Library

“Rollicking but literary, Matthew Olshan’s
Finn: a novel
is a beautifully crafted and remarkably absorbing story about strength and ingenuity. Overflowing with hilarious turns of phrase, essential observations, and lovely metaphors, it’s a remarkably clear tale of economic disparity and emotional endurance.”—
Jonathon Scott Fuqua, author of the prize-winning YA novel The Reappearance of Sam Webber

“The beginning was funnier than anything, and no one could have asked for a better ending. Is there to be a sequel? . . . Please!!!”—
Adam Bulkley (12)

“A redo of
Huckleberry Finn
would be a tall order for anybody, but there are flashes of brilliance in Matthew Olshan’s attempt, and the voice of his heroine (for better or worse) is as true to our time as Huck’s was to his.”—
Madison Smartt Bell, National Book Award fiction finalist

“To say I related to Chloe Wilder in
Finn: a novel
is an understatement. I felt like I personally experienced her experiences, lived her adventures, and survived her hardships right along with her.”—
Julie Ann Taylor (12)

“I’m confident that our magazine’s readers will relate to Chloe, be entertained by her adventures, and be challenged by her ideas. I myself didn’t want to put the book down!”—
Ellen L. Runnels, Associate Editor, Topics Magazine

“If I really like a book, I lend it to a friend. I lent
Finn: a novel
to my friend Conner. I told him that boys like him and like me would find it cool, even though the main characters are girls. I expect that Conner’s gonna read it too.”
—Adam Bortz (13)
“Thoroughly enjoyable and very well-written. . . I found myself laughing out loud on many occasions!”—
Jill Lamar, Director, Barnes & Noble’s Discover Great New Writers program

“Strap on your safety belt, there’s no time to stop once you’ve joined ‘life on the run’ in this fast-paced, action-packed adventure. . . Although
Finn: a novel
battles stereotyping and prejudice, the reader will be satisfied with the positive ending.”
—Hannah Pickworth, Middle School Librarian, Roland Park Country School

“Like Twain’s
Huckleberry Finn,
Olshan’s
Finn: a novel
is both a thrilling story and a social document. Every child will enjoy it—and every adult will learn from it.” —
Jesse Norman, founder/board chairman of Widelearning, an e-learning company

“It’s a great story, funny and fast-paced, concise and clear, and Chloe is one of the more lively and endearing characters I’ve read in some time.”—
Stephen Dixon, two-time National Book Award fiction finalist

“With remarkable skill and a modern plot, Matthew Olshan beautifully captures the lively and exciting world of Mark Twain on several levels.”—
Ruth F. Boorstin, poet, children’s newspaper columnist, and book editor

“An engaging, vivid, and wonderful story!”
—Trudi Rishikof, former communications director, RI Department of Education

“Finn: a novel
will be very appealing to teenage as well as adult readers.”—
Paul Barrett, Academic Dean, St. Albans School for Boys (Washington, DC)

“I finished reading
Finn: a novel
last night and I couldn’t help but be impressed with Matthew Olshan’s writing. He certainly has created a resourceful character in Chloe. I also couldn’t help but feel a bit sad that more than 100 years after
Huckleberry Finn
was originally published, the prejudices and ignorance portrayed in that novel remain on full display. Chloe is just as surprised as Huck to find that Silvia and other minorities are fully realized human beings. This book begs to be read and discussed.”—
Deborah Taylor, former president of the Young Adult Library Services Association (YALSA) of the American Library Association

“The protagonist is a teenage girl whose sense of moral responsibility and social injustice leads her to confront disquieting aspects of American society.”—
Eleanor W. Kingsbury, former head of the Bermuda High School for Girls