What’s Up With the Ending?

You know the kind of endings where you get your hopes up really high just to have them smashed to smithereens? Well that's what we've got in The Circuit. Yep, this ending is a huge downer.

But before we get to the sad part, we get a steep hill of happiness. Here's how that roller coaster goes:

The Hopeful Climb

Francisco has had a rough go of it for years, but by the end of this book everything is coming together. He has the whole school thing figured out. Got a piece of the Declaration of Independence you need memorized? Francisco is your guy. Hankering for some good old-fashioned success in math class? Our main man is on top of that subject, too. To boot, he's living in his favorite city in California—Santa Maria—and Roberto just got a year-round job as a janitor, which means they don't have to move. Life is looking up like it never has before.

The Crash that Makes Us Cry

But all that sunshine and happiness only lasts for a second, and right as Francisco is ready to recite his memorized portion of the Declaration of Independence, those pesky Border Patrol folks show up to take him away. Seriously—they just show up at his classroom and poof, that's it. He's off and it's all super sudden—and Francisco can't do a thing to stop it:

Putting her right hand on my shoulder, and looking up at the officers, she said sadly, "This is him." My eyes clouded. I stood up and followed the immigration officer out of the classroom and into his car marked "Border Patrol." I sat in the front seat as the officer drove down Broadway to Santa Maria High School to pick up Roberto. (12.87)

Francisco knows what's going to happen (he's heading back to Mexico, folks), and he's not fighting it. This acceptance of his fate is pretty depressing, especially given the fact that he was just ready to take center stage and show off his memorization skills, but it also sets us up for a sequel in a pretty major way. We don't know about you, but we're itching to find out what happens next for Francisco and his family.