Cilla Lee-Jenkins: The Epic Story

by Susan Tan

  “Hmmm…,” Colleen said.

  “Well,” Melissa said, “I don’t know about teaching English. But I spent some time in the hospital when my dad had knee surgery, and I know that if you can get Gwen to walk around with you and look sad and cute, all the nurses will give you Popsicles.”

  “AMAZING!” I said. And I felt lucky to have such Brave Companions.

  “Also,” Melissa went on, “When my Abuela has trouble with English words, we just act it out.”

  “That’s what I do with my Nai Nai sometimes,” I said. “But I’ve never done that with my Ye Ye, and I don’t know…”

  “Charades!” Alien-Face yelled, all of a sudden. “You could play charades! Ye Ye would love that game, and maybe THAT’S how the Muscle Memory will kick in.”

  We all looked at him, impressed.

  “Good plan, Alien-Face!” Colleen said.

  “Yeah!” Melissa said.

  “Brilliant,” I said. Which is a Synonym for “Wise,” but with an added layer of “excellent.”

  Just then, Ms. Paradise walked by.

  “This doesn’t sound like morning worksheets,” she said.

  “Sorry, Ms. Paradise,” I said. “It’s just that—”

  “Now, Cilla,” Ms. Paradise cut me off. “I know talking is fun, but morning exercises are important. So I’m going to need you to focus, okay? Remember: middle school Expectations!”

  “But—” I started. She gave me a look. “Okay,” I said softly.

  “Okay,” Colleen and Melissa and Alien-Face said.

  “Great.” Ms. Paradise clapped her hands, and swished away.

  I put my head in my hands and sighed, and Colleen patted my shoulder as we all turned to our morning worksheets.

  I tried not to be too discouraged. Tricksters are hard to deal with. Plus all Quests have a “Challenges” phase, and I knew this was mine.

  But I hoped it would be over soon.

  I loved the charades idea, and I knew I’d try it once Ye Ye could move around a bit more. But I knew too that no matter how great and supportive my friends had been, there was probably only one person who could really help me. Because if a whole hospital of doctors can’t give you an answer, there’s only one place left to turn.

  “Ms. Clutter,” I said, as I burst into the library that day at recess. “I need you!”

  “Cilla!” she said with a smile. “Of course. What’s up?”

  “I need help finding a book,” I said.

  “Great, what can I help you find? Mystery? Magic Adventure?”

  “No,” I said, though they were all great suggestions. “I need a book on how to teach English,” I explained.

  “Huh,” Ms. Clutter said.

  She leaned forward at the desk, and the beautiful gold scarf she was wearing over her hair that day rippled like waves as she did. (Only the best Similes for Ms. Clutter.)

  She smiled in a nice, friendly way, and I knew she was about to say, “I have the PERFECT book for you and whoever you’re teaching will learn English in NO time. Possibly today.”

  But instead, she said, “Everything all right, Cilla?”

  “Yeah,” I said quietly, after a minute.

  “Do you want to talk about anything?” she asked.

  I sort of did, but I sort of didn’t, too, because how do you explain that you either have to teach your Ye Ye English or you’ll lose him altogether?

  “I just … I just need that book,” I said.

  “Well,” she said, “I don’t think I have anything like that here in the library right now, but I’ll start looking today and will see what I find. We’ll get you what you need.”

  “Okay,” I said. I felt my face getting brighter.

  “Okay,” she said.

  And I felt much better.

  “So,” Ms. Clutter said, “in the meantime, let’s get you some reading material to hold you over. What do you think—time travel or epic bobsled adventure with dragons?”

  “Epic Bobsled Adventure!” I said.

  Which, short of a book to help me teach Ye Ye English RIGHT NOW, is probably the best thing I could ask for.

  I got back to class just as everyone was coming in from recess. I started to tell Colleen what Ms. Clutter had said, but when the bell rang Ms. Paradise said, “Ring ring, middle school!” This is her new favorite thing, and it’s supposed to remind us that in middle school, we’ll only have a few minutes to switch classes before the bell rings. So we’ll have to be focused and pack up our things quickly, and we can’t talk with our friends.

  We’re supposed to practice it now and pretend we’re in middle school when the bell rings, which makes no sense because shouldn’t we try to get the talking out of our systems while we can? Especially if you can’t even take a break from being Serious when you’re in the hallway once you’re in middle school (which sounds exhausting).

  But even though I couldn’t talk to Colleen just then, I knew I’d be able to tell her all about Ms. Clutter, and the book she’d given me, on the way home. And I knew no one would make fun of me for liking something with dragons, because we’re still in elementary school (thank goodness). Plus Mimi and Lisa carpool, which gives me a break from all my Foes on the bus.

  So I felt better. And I was excited for journal writing, which always happens right after recess.

  We were all deep into our writing, when, a few minutes later, the door of our classroom opened. Someone outside motioned to Ms. Paradise, who stuck her head out the door and began to whisper. Suddenly, Ms. Paradise said, “Oh!” And then she turned around and raced into the room.

  “Cilla!” Ms. Paradise came rushing over to my desk. “I’m so sorry,” she said, kneeling down so our heads were at the same level. “Your mom called this morning to tell us about your grandpa, but Mr. Usmani forgot to pass on the message. Ms. Clutter just happened to be in the office and spotted the note on his desk.” She gave me a big, warm hug. “If you need to talk, I’m always here, okay?”

  And even though Ms. Paradise isn’t my favorite, I smiled at her, and a real smile this time. Because it was a really nice offer, even if I didn’t want to talk just then. (And especially not to someone who says “There’s a silver lining to every cloud” when anything bad happens. Which doesn’t make a lot sense because clouds are made of water, not silver, so that sounds like pollution and not something you’d want.)

  But I was glad she cared, all the same, Trickster or not.

  And from the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of gold fluttering as the door closed: Ms. Clutter’s scarf, waving behind her like a cape.

  Ms. Moody, the guidance counselor, came to check on me later too, and said she was sorry for the mix-up. And when she asked how I was, I smiled and said okay, and meant it really and truly.

  Because with Wise Guides who are also undercover superheroes like Ms. Clutter on my side, how can my Quest go wrong?

  I was in a good mood the rest of the day. I even enjoyed band and didn’t think about Mimi or Lisa once (especially because Mr. Kendall said that I was making the strongest sounds in the tuba section, so there).

  And when I got home, I was ready to go visit Ye Ye.

  “Ms. Clutter is helping me,” I told Gwen as I put her toys in a backpack to bring to the hospital. “She’s going to find books all about learning English again. And until she does, I have the best plan—books! I’ll bring him some and read aloud to him!”

  “Bwooks!” Gwen said. “I want bwooks! Read to me? Play?”

  “Later,” I promised. “But I’m glad you approve of my plan.” I went to the bookshelf. “Let’s start with … Selena Moon! It’s the best series,” I told Gwen as she started chewing on her Batman doll. “And book six, Selena Moon and the Prophecy of the Waxing Crescent, is SO GOOD, with SO MANY twists and turns. He won’t be able to resist, he’ll have to remember English if he wants to find out what happens.”

  “Yeah!” Gwen yelled.

  “Yeah!” I said, because I thought this was a pretty excellent
plan (if I do say so myself).

  “Everything okay here?” my mom asked, coming downstairs with Essie dressed to go out.

  “We’re just making plans for Ye Ye,” I said, showing her Selena Moon. “I’m going to read this to him.”

  “Um, sweetie,” my dad said, peeking out from his office. “That might be a bit too much, for both of you.”

  “Why?” I asked, holding up my book (I had to use two hands, it’s eight hundred pages).

  “Well, it’s kind of long,” my dad said. “And Ye Ye might not understand.”

  “Oh, no, that’s the point,” I explained. “He’ll listen, and then he’ll start to understand.

  “Yeah!” Gwen said. Then, “Cilla, fix Batman,” because Batman’s scrunchie tutu had fallen off.

  “Of course,” I said, and I tossed Selena Moon onto the coffee table.

  “Caref—” my mom began. But I’d already dropped it down, and I’d maybe forgotten how heavy Selena Moon is and … CRASH. The reglued vase went flying.

  “Oops,” I said, making an I’m-sorry face at my dad. “We can glue it again. Right, Mom?”

  “Great,” my dad said, rubbing the space between his eyes. (Incidentally, I think he needs new glasses, because he does this a lot.)

  “Gweat!” Gwen said.

  But my mom was too busy laughing to answer.

  * * *

  The lesson didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. (But it’s okay, I told Ye Ye. We have PLENTY of time—it’s a loooooong book.)

  I read Ye Ye the first few pages of Selena Moon, and he seemed to enjoy listening. But when I asked Reading Comprehension Questions (which are a big Theme in school, and sometimes kind of boring), he couldn’t answer them. I don’t even know if he understood them, which was too bad because I’d worked hard to make them REALLY exciting, like:

  Is Selena’s star pendant

  A. Purple

  B. Shiny

  C. All powerful and capable of summoning unicorns that will help her defeat evil once and for all in book 7 (Spoiler Alert)

  D. All of the above

  Unfortunately Ye Ye couldn’t answer (it’s D by the way). But he asked me to keep reading because he thought my expressions were funny. So that’s a start.

  Gwen wanted to be a part of the story, too, so she sat on the side of the bed and played hand puppets with Ye Ye while I read, and my dad talked with the doctors, and my mom drove Nai Nai home to get some rest.

  And even though we couldn’t stay too long, because Ye Ye got tired, it was a nice visit.

  Especially because, before we left, we put Melissa’s Popsicle plan into action, and I helped Gwen get exactly the right expression (a blend between big, almost-crying eyes, and a wavering smile). So then there were A LOT of Popsicles to eat.

  We said goodbye to Ye Ye and drove home. Just before dinner, my mom sat down on the couch, and Gwen went to get her book while I finished my homework and my dad played with Essie.

  And everything felt like normal.

  Until my dad’s phone rang, and it was Nai Nai with an update for my dad.

  He went into the other room, and my mom went to take Essie.

  “Mommy, read?” Gwendolyn asked, toddling back, holding her book out.

  “Of course, sweetie.” My mom bent down to take it. But suddenly, Essie began to cry.

  “Nath—” My mom turned to hand him Essie, then saw he was still on the phone. “One second, sweetie, okay?” she said to Gwendolyn, as she hoisted Essie up on her side. “Oh dear,” she said, patting her bottom, “I think you’re a bit of a mess … Can you keep an eye on Gwen, Cilla?” she asked as she left the room.

  “Okay,” I called after her, still keeping my eyes on my math homework.

  Gwen watched my mom go, holding out the book to her as she walked away.

  “Come on, Gwen,” I said. “Sit by me and read.”

  Her bottom lip shook.

  “Gwen, come on,” I said, pulling myself up. “Come play with your toys. Mom will read to you when she gets back.”

  “No!” she said. I sighed, and scooched next to her on the rug. “Fine,” I said, reaching for the book, “Let’s read.”

  She looked at me with big eyes that were filling with water, and not in a pretend way this time.

  All of a sudden, I thought of Ms. Clutter. It had been so nice to talk to her today, and to have her know exactly what would make me feel better.

  And it had been the nicest thing of all to know that she’d noticed I was upset. And had seen that something wasn’t quite right.

  “Oh!” I pretended to gasp, as if I’d just been surprised by the best thing ever.

  “What?” she asked, startled.

  “Well,” I said, “I just realized you picked a book with a dragon in it. And you made that AMAZING dragon hand puppet in day care, right?”

  “Oh!” she said.

  “Should she read it to you?” I asked.

  “Yeah!” Gwen ran over to get the puppet from the dining room table, tears forgotten. And we read the book, and named her dragon puppet Flo, and decided that she’d be our best friend from then on, and would help us (and Batman) with any Adventures that came our way.

  * * *

  So all in all, I learned some excellent strategies today.

  And it was mostly, and surprisingly, really nice.

  Except for what I learned when I was trying to glue the vase back together AGAIN.

  Which is that when something’s been broken, glued, then broken again, the pieces are even harder to fit back together.

  But don’t worry, I’ll find a way.

  I’m a future author extraordinaire, with a dragon puppet and a real, live undercover superhero on my side, after all.

  7

  FUHSTRATION

  Sometimes I forget that English is my dad’s second language, just like it’s my Ye Ye’s.

  My dad came over from China with Ye Ye and Nai Nai when he was a little kid. He’d learned a few English words, because Ye Ye had lived in America before he was married and taught him some of what he knew (which is another reason he should have no problem getting his English back—he’s known it for a LONG time).

  But my dad had to learn most of the English he knows by himself, in school, once he was here. When he was only a little younger than I am now.

  Which must have been hard.

  Now my dad speaks English fluently. It’s the language he speaks most of the time, and he’s told me that he even thinks and dreams in English.

  But every once in a while he sometimes still makes small mistakes with the words he uses. Or says words a little differently.

  And my favorite is “fuhstrated.”

  Fuhstrated is my dad’s way of saying “frustrated.” But when he says it, it’s not the normal kind of frustration anymore. It’s not the frustrated you feel because you have too much homework, or Daisy won’t stop chewing on your socks. That’s frustrated—when something’s annoying but small, and you get over it pretty quickly. So you can do your homework, or try to train Daisy not to chew on socks (emphasis on “try”). And whether it works or not, you know that the problem will go away soon, and can mostly be solved.

  But when my dad and I sigh in just the same way, and say, “Nothing’s wrong, I’m just fuhstrated!” it means something else.

  When you’re fuhstrated, it means that every part of you is tired and doesn’t know what to do. It means that nothing’s right, and sometimes it means you’re feeling sad or angry, but you’re not sure at who, or what about. And it means that you don’t, at all, even in the slightest, have the words to say all the things that you’re feeling, and that there probably isn’t anything that can make you, at least in this one particular moment, feel better.

  This week started off as the opposite of fuhstrating, which means, it was actually going really well. We were getting ready for my Auntie Eva to visit again, and Ye Ye was doing so well at rehab. On Monday, I walked with him up and down the hallway, and even though he wa
s slow and used his walker and couldn’t do it for very long, he was still standing and walking and gripping with both hands. The doctors told us that he’ll probably be able to go home really soon, because apparently you only spend a few weeks in hospital rehab, and then you do a lot of rehab work at home.

  Which was all great, because even though Ye Ye hasn’t made any breakthroughs in English, it will still be really nice to know that he’s at home, where he belongs.

  Ms. Clutter has found a few books for me, though none have been quite what I’m looking for. But she said they were the only ones she could find, and I have to admit, the English-Cantonese picture dictionary for English language learners was pretty impressive. Plus, as Ms. Clutter explained when she got it for me, “I know it’s not quite right, but it’s all we have right now, so I thought I’d give it to you. I bet you could learn some of the Chinese words so you can make sure he understands you while you teach.”

  “Great idea!” I said.

  So when I went to visit Ye Ye after school on Tuesday we were using that, and Ye Ye was very nice and didn’t laugh too hard at my pronunciation (Cantonese has NINE tones, which are hard to keep track of).

  I’d come up with another great strategy too, because yes, maybe Selena Moon wasn’t my best idea ever, because it’s so long, and because so many of the words are made up anyway. And I realized I’d sort of gotten ahead of myself (which my mom says I do a lot, but I think a Synonym for that is just “good planning,” which means it’s mostly a strength, not something I have to change).

  So instead, I’d decided to reteach him the ALPHABET.

  Ye Ye loves to sing and seemed to like this new approach to teaching. He mostly just hummed the tune, but he was really into it and sat up and waved his hands around with me, so it was a good strategy in general. The only real challenge will be making sure he learns the RIGHT version, because Gwen is ALSO very excited about the alphabet, but also has some learning to do. So when we started singing, Gwen heard us from the hallway, where she’d been playing with my Nai Nai, and burst into the room, singing out her own VERY loud ABCs (with accompanying Interpretive Dance), which went something like: