Frances, This Time You’ve Gone Too Far
Frances Green is a precocious twelve-year-old with a critical eye and a tender heart. She’s cool and confident (well, mostly) at her new middle school after her family moves to a small beach town in California.
Frances grapples with fitting in or being alone, helping others with good intentions but getting in trouble for it, all while feeling like an adult trapped inside of a teenager. Ultimately, she finds new friends in unexpected places and strikes a balance between trying too hard and staying present.
As she navigates her unusual family, a new school, and the challenges of leaving her old life and her father behind, she deals with life by writing. Frances’s memoir is where her emotions surface, woven throughout a funny, poignant, coming-of-age story.
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Book Excerpt
Chapter 3, Pages 19-20
I remember my dad telling me about how Frank’s brain works differently than my brain and most everyone else’s brains. It was during my eighth birthday, and my dad was on his knees helping me with my roller skates at the roller rink and Frank was having a real meltdown. One of my skates was really hurting my foot and the laces were tied in a double knot. I couldn’t untie it without help. I was missing out on my own birthday party, and Frank was busy causing a scene. He was breathing in and out really fast and his nostrils were flaring out like the wings of an airplane. My dad was watching Frank and not paying attention to my laces. Whatever he was doing to tie or untie them was actually making it worse. I hated Frank for wrecking my birthday. He was trying to win one of those dumb stuffed animals you see at the arcade, the one with the big claw that is like a crane. He put a bunch of change in the machine and nothing came out. Some skinny teenager with a shaved head and baggy pants said, “Oh get over it!” and kind of pushed him out of the way. Frank was hysterical, but didn’t seem bothered at all by the kid who pushed him. Frank didn’t seem to even notice him. He was upset that he didn’t get a stuffed animal. It was a breezy day in April and we had a small party; I only got to invite a few kids. The memory is coming back clearly to me now. I was always embarrassed by his outbursts. I remember that more than the details of this birthday party.
My parents were of course still married then, and I clearly remember my parents fighting. My dad kept saying that Frank had a form of autism called Asperger’s, and my mom said that my dad was obsessed with his work in the field and that Frank was simply a child who had certain interests and wasn’t flexible. A common dinner scene at my house:
Mom to Frank, “Eat the food on your plate.”
Frank, “No, I don’t want my hamburger to touch the ketchup.”
Mom to Frank, “But you’re dipping your French fries into the ketchup, what’s the difference?”
Dad to mom, “Rachel, let it be.”
My mom also said Frank had a bad temper because my dad was too busy doing research to be present and raise his own kids. He was gone too much and, as she says, she did all of the disciplining. Frank and I went to the same schools, I would see his teachers at meetings and everybody would say the same thing. “Frank is really smart, BUT…”
So, I am the little sister to a kid in Special Ed. Who cares? I like when he laughs, I like when there is nothing to do and we play tic-tac-toe or just swim together. Frank can fix any computer, camera, or phone. He likes the insides of anything that resembles a machine. My mom can’t even figure out how to use different parts of her vacuum, but my brother just barely glances at something broken and effortlessly puts it back together. He doesn’t really care if people stare at him or tease him; he just likes The Rolling Stones and minds his own business while fixing things.
Most people don’t even notice that Frank is different right away. People get it more after the second or third time they meet him. At least this is what people have told me. The expression my parents use a lot is “high functioning.” Oh, and he loves California rolls, that sushi roll that has crab, avocado, and sometimes cucumber inside. He is fascinated with sushi bars, so we go pretty often. He always has to sit at the bar though and watch the sushi makers. He asks for their sushi knives every birthday and Christmas/Hanukkah, but my parents always tell him that you have to go to culinary school in order to buy one. Like really, why do grownups have to lie?
Me? Well I, Frances Green, am the sensitive one. My mom says she has two babies that couldn’t be more different. Like I mentioned, it’s very natural for me to tune into what people are thinking, and sometimes I know what people need before they even know it, kind of like when I knew Frankie needed the bumper cars to cheer him up. I have been alive here before, and my job is to take care of new humans. It gets me in trouble because I am not afraid to say the truth.
Frances, you have gone too far. I have heard this for over eleven years.
About the Author, Janis Ost
Middle grade fiction author. Dedicated teacher. Community helper.
For more than two decades, I have been a teacher in Santa Cruz County and have spent the majority of my years working with phenomenal students at Branciforte Middle School. In 2014, I received my Masters in Special Education from San Jose State University. I continue to work part-time at an elementary school, focusing on supporting students K-5th grade with reading, writing and math.
I love and respect my community and always want to help, especially in any manner that supports children and teens.
- Long standing writing project assistant with The Young Writers Program in Santa Cruz.
- Volunteer with the Santa Cruz Police Department.
- Proud recipient of the 2017 Be The Difference Award from the Santa Cruz Volunteer Center.
- Former advocate and current Board Member of CASA of Santa Cruz County.
