Page 65 of Birdy

Oh, and the tall fake palm under the middle of three windows that give a view of the fenced-in parking lot.

Cutting my stare back to Judge, I study him as my brain shifts back into overdrive. What does he need to tell me that he’s called me down here twice now? He can’t know about Andrés. It hasn’t even been twenty-hours for one; and two, there wasn’t a soul in sight when we went in and out of that closet. Andrés assured me the cameras don’t pick up on that corner, either.

Could Koko have opened her mouth then?

Seeing as she’s working with Franca now, I wouldn’t put it past her, but nah…it’s not likely. Mack wouldn’t have escorted me over here so breezily if he did. There would’ve been a sweep; I would’ve gotten pushed around and roughed up. He would’ve taunted me about how he knew it was mine all along or that I was involved.

“All right, here we go,” Judge cheerfully says as he goes about signing the bottom right corner of the paper. On the last flick of his wrist, he slides the sheet toward me and flips it around with the tips of his fingers. “Have a look at this.”

At first glance, it looks like nothing more than an official letter of some sort.

And yeah, that’s what it is—but what I end up reading?

To say I wasn’t expecting it would be the lightest term possible. My breath catches, stomach flipping at least six or seven times as the legal jargon and what it means begins to sink in.

“I’m… I’m getting out early?” The question isn’t directed at Judge. I’m thinking out loud, trying not to burst out of this seat and get my hopes up before I know the whole entire story.

“Yes, ma’am, you are. Six months on the money.” He sounds genuinely happy for me, chuckling when my mouth pops open and closed for a good minute.

Six months from now is right before Christmas.

I’ll be home...for Christmas. That’s my mom’s favorite holiday.

“You’re sure this is for real? That this is for me and not someone else?” Setting the letter back on his desk with shaky hands, I drag my gaze up in time to see the old man nodding.

“That’s your name on it, isn’t it?” he counters, tapping the tip of his fancy pen right above my full name. “You’ve earned it, Villanueva, and deserve the chance to show the system you can keep this up on the outside. You’ll need two years on parole to mark your time as completed, of course. Still, there’s an opportunity for early release there, too, if your parole officer sees it fit.”

You’ve earned it.

Of everything he just said, that’s what sticks out the most. Wow. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to hear that? How long I’ve been waiting to finally get the validation that all of my efforts to stay on track haven’t gone unnoticed? I’ve workedsohard for this, so damn hard, that when the floodgates burst wide open, I don’t try to stop the emotional deluge.

Fuck vulnerability, fuck what anyone thinks. I let it all go, every little thing that’s built up inside me since the day I got arrested, and thankPapá Diosfor finally hearing me.

For answering my prayers.

“T-thank you.” I’m not sure he can hear me behind the safety of my hands as my body folds in on itself, shoulders shaking, breaths erratic. “Thank you so much for this. Y-you don’t understand what it m-means.”

Hold on just a little longer, Mama.

Yup, I’m sobbing, afraid that if I so much as move or blink or even breathe that I’m going to wake up from some sick dream, and none of this will be real.

I’m going to be home for Christmas.

“Oh, don’t cry,” Judge says sympathetically, sliding something across his desk. “This old man isn’t good with tears.”

I’m not either; I hate them, earning him the softest laugh as I focus on breathing and regaining control of my emotions. When I finally pick myself back up and wipe away the wetness clinging to my face, I realize it’s a tissue box. I take a couple and clean myself up some more, blotting my eyes and then blowing my nose.

“I’m sorry,” my voice quakes. “I just wasn’t expecting this at all. I’ve been praying this day might eventually come around. Didn’t think it would happen, though.”

Judge smiles and sets his pen down on top of the letter. “I think you’ve learned your lesson, right?”

Yes, yes, I have.

There’s not enough money in the world worth time in prison.

Nodding, I pick up the fountain pen and sign my life away as a megawatt grin splits my face in two. “Absolutely.”

Wait till I tell Andrés.

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