Open the door, close the door.
Little Frank was excited and restless, like a rookie agent on his first mission, eager and impatient.
Old Frank stood beside him, calm and composed, "Don't smile too much."
Little Frank quickly hid his grin and stood obediently.
Old Frank continued, "Once I go in, you go back to the driver's seat and wait for me. Even if the police come to give a ticket, don't move the car. Do you understand?"
Little Frank nodded lightly, but couldn't hold back his curiosity, "Dad, what's all this for?"
Old Frank looked at his son, "Do you know why the Yankees always win?"
Little Frank blinked, "Because they have Mickey Mantle?"
Old Frank stared into his son's eyes, "No, because the other teams are always distracted by their pinstripes."
Pfft.
"Are you selling encyclopedias?"
The series of actions was all just for show, hoping to create an image through such surface work to gain some confidence for the negotiation.
So, he sold the car and took Little Frank to return the suits; then he sold the house, and the three of them moved into a small apartment.
However, it didn't last long.
Father said.
A checkbook, from Chase Bank.
Turns out, under the seemingly glamorous exterior, there were lice crawling everywhere—
As long as the bank was willing to lend him money to help him get by, he was confident he could make a comeback. He hoped a bank as big as Chase would be willing to take more risks and be adventurous. He just needed a bit of working capital.
Just as he finished speaking, a well-dressed gentleman pushed open the bank door, smiling as he personally welcomed Old Frank.
Despite the struggles and difficulties, the smile returned to his face.
Unfortunately, he was still rejected.
On the first day, out of habit, wearing his school uniform, Little Frank faced a rude awakening. First, a chubby kid knocked into him for no reason. After finally finding the French class, he was met with chaos in the classroom, and the same chubby kid reappeared, hurling insults and mockery.
"… So from today on, you're joining their little club."
After his failure, Old Frank also lost the initiative.
Old Frank said, "Look, the manager of Chase Bank is about to open the door for your father."
On Little Frank's sixteenth birthday, despite being overwhelmed with problems, his father didn't forget. Not only that, but he also gave him a special gift—
Thus, he set his sights on Chase Bank, currently the largest bank in the world.
Life hit rock bottom, but even in tough times, one can still find joy and keep going.
Little Frank laughed outright.
Transferring from a private school to a public school, Little Frank still hadn't changed his usual habits and knew nothing about the environment he was about to face.
Old Frank was under investigation for tax evasion, with all his assets frozen, causing his business to grind to a halt. He needed funds.
"Hehe, he looks like a substitute teacher."
This wasn't the school atmosphere Little Frank was used to.
Deep breath, another deep breath.
Little Frank controlled himself, standing at the classroom door, body slightly leaning forward, ready to take a seat. But after a slight hesitation, he turned around, walked past the podium, and headed to the blackboard.
Facing the blackboard, Little Frank hesitated slightly, his lips pursed. Despite his best efforts to suppress it, the surging emotions were still evident.
Finally, he picked up a piece of chalk and wrote on the blackboard—
"Mr. Abagnale."
And in the midst of all the noise and chaos, he raised his voice.
"Quiet, everyone."
"My name is Mr. Abagnale, not Abagno, not Abanelle…"
The chubby kid who had bumped into Little Frank earlier froze, suddenly looking uncomfortable.
"But Abagnale."
Little Frank turned around and calmly entered the classroom.
"Now, who can tell me where we left off last time?"
The classroom was silent, but still chaotic.
In the screening room, it was the same.
One by one, they exchanged glances. No one knew what was happening, but watching this scene before them, there was a sense of anticipation and excitement. Is this normal?
In the classroom, there was no sound, but the students still maintained their postures, either sitting or standing, their eyes all on Little Frank, seemingly not understanding what was going on, as if their reactions were on the fritz.
Little Frank found his voice in the quiet, "Sorry, everyone, if I need to repeat myself, I will report the entire class."
"Sit down!"
Anger erupted instantly.
The classroom finally started moving again, with students quickly bowing their heads and hurriedly returning to their seats.
After a brief commotion, everyone finally took their seats, and someone reminded, "
Little Frank quickly flipped through his book, "Please turn to
Finally, Little Frank couldn't hold back any longer, striding over to the chubby kid, bending down to his ear and loudly releasing energy without warning.
"Excuse me, what's your name?"
The chubby kid was stunned, "Brad."
Little Frank grabbed Brad's arm and yanked him up, "Brad, why don't you stand in front of the class and read the fifth conversation?"
Brad stood in front of the class, uneasy, constantly shifting his weight from one leg to the other, looking like he was about to wet himself, his neck stiff, not daring to turn his head.
Then, Brad stuttered and stumbled through the reading, his pronunciation and tone particularly odd, causing the students in the classroom to giggle and laugh.
At this moment, an elderly lady with her hair in a bun entered the classroom, looking at the scene with confusion and turned to Little Frank, her voice trembling slightly.
"They sent me. They said they needed a substitute for Roberta, and I came all the way from Dixon."
Little Frank stepped forward, looking at the elderly lady, lowering his voice, "Sorry, I've been substituting for Roberta."
Without a pause, Little Frank turned to Brad, "Sorry, why did you stop?"
The elderly lady's pupils shook violently, filled with confusion and panic, almost about to cry, "I'm never coming back to Bellamy-Jefferson Middle School to substitute! You tell them not to call me again! Do you think it's easy for a lady my age to travel all the way here? They won't even reimburse me for travel expenses!"
Muttering to herself, the elderly lady turned around and left, looking heartbroken, and the classroom erupted in laughter again.
In the screening room, there was a moment of bewilderment—
To be precise, a bit of surprise, a bit of curiosity, a bit of humor; it was hard to describe what kind of feeling this was. There was even a little bit of admiration.
However, this was just the beginning.
The scene shifts, and the principal, looking troubled, sits in his office.
"Mr. Abagnale, Mrs. Abagnale, this is not about your son's attendance. I'm very sorry to tell you that over the past week, Frank has been substituting for Mrs. Glasser in teaching French."
Paula Abagnale: "What?"
The entire screening room, "What?"
Principal, "Your son pretended to be a substitute teacher, teaching the students, assigning homework. Mrs. Glasser was ill, and the substitute teacher got caught up in some misunderstanding. Yesterday, your son even held a parent-teacher conference, planning an internship at a French bakery in Trenton. Do you understand the problem here?"
Everyone's jaws dropped, from inside the screen to outside the screen.
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