Cilla Lee-Jenkins: The Epic Story

by Susan Tan

  I turned to where she was waving. There, blushing, and looking embarrassed and uncomfortable, but also looking at the seventh graders with big, impressed eyes was Mimi Donnelly.

  “Hi, Meems!” the waving middle schooler said.

  “Hi, Hattie,” Mimi said shyly.

  Colleen and I looked at each other, shocked.

  Because they had the same smile, and the same expression in their eyes.

  But it was more than that, too.

  Mimi was looking at the middle schooler like she really wanted to impress her.

  Because this smiling, friendly-looking middle school girl was Mimi Donnelly’s older sister.

  And somehow it hadn’t occurred to me that if she had an older sister, it meant Mimi Donnelly was a little sister. Just like Gwen.

  Which, for some reason, I found very surprising.

  * * *

  The middle school visit was actually kind of fun. A boy in a rainbow-striped shirt named Abdullah told us that all the teachers are friendly, and everyone will help you get around the hallways if you can’t figure something out. A boy with hair in his eyes named Travis told us about how, in sixth grade, the teachers design big projects—in science we’ll do a star journal, where we have to go out every night for a month and look at the constellations, and in history we’ll go on a field trip to see how clothes used to be made. And at the very end, Hattie told us all about the clubs we could join, like Mathalon, and how we could play sports, but also join art club, language club, and even a writing club.

  The middle schoolers seemed nice. And afterward, they even stayed for a few minutes to talk with us.

  I thought about going to ask Hattie (Donnelly!) about the writing club. But I felt shy. And I was afraid of saying the wrong, un-Serious thing. So I just hovered with a group of fifth graders and listened while some of them asked questions. Mimi went to stand next to her sister, and Hattie talked with Tim #2 and Gabrielle, and anytime Hattie laughed, Mimi laughed too. When another middle schooler asked Mimi if she was nervous, I heard her say in a slightly too-loud voice, “Oh, no, I’m not nervous AT ALL,” as she looked at her sister with big, kind of hopeful eyes. And every once in a while she looked toward Lisa and her other friends, like she was making sure they liked what she’d said.

  And for the first time in all of fifth grade, I understood Mimi Donnelly.

  * * *

  The middle schoolers left and I waved goodbye with the rest of Ms. Paradise’s fifth-grade class. I felt better, now that I’d met them. But I was still glad that we weren’t in middle school just yet. Because being Serious is a lot of pressure. And I’m still not sure how I’m going to do it ALL THE TIME next year. (Plus I still sort of wished I’d brought cookies, because even though they seemed nice, four-headed dragons are tricky.)

  We were still talking about the middle school visit when we went out to recess that day.

  “Wow!” Colleen said, leaning against the school wall. “Mimi Donnelly was trying so hard to impress her sister.”

  “I know,” Melissa said. “I think she’s actually really nervous about middle school.”

  “Right?” I said.

  “Like me!” Melissa and I said at the same time.

  “Yeah,” Colleen said, just after us. “Like me!”

  “WHAT?!” Melissa and I turned to look at Colleen, shocked. “But you keep saying you’re excited about it,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Melissa said. “And you’re so good at being grown-up!”

  “Well,” Colleen said with an almost embarrassed kind of smile, “I’m excited about some parts of middle school. But really, I was just saying all those things because … well, because I’m actually kind of terrified.”

  “Us too!” Melissa and I both said.

  We were all quiet for a moment.

  And then we began to laugh.

  “You know,” Colleen said a few minutes later (once we’d mostly, but not entirely, stopped giggling every few seconds). “Sometimes … I’m a little sick of being grown-up. I mean, my mom keeps saying I’m so mature with everything that happened. But I didn’t know what to do.” She sighed. “Sometimes I think being grown-up is overrated.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Yes,” Melissa said.

  “Though when you had to be, you were really good at it,” I added.

  Colleen smiled. “Thanks,” she said, “I’m really glad I had you guys there.”

  We were all quiet for a minute.

  “The middle schoolers didn’t seem so bad,” Melissa said.

  “No,” I said, not hiding my surprise anymore. “They didn’t.”

  “Yeah,” Colleen agreed, nodding. “But,” she went on, “don’t you sort of wish … I mean, we’re going to be middle schoolers soon, so I know we should act like it. But I actually just want to do something fun, and not worry, you know?”

  I took a deep breath.

  “Well,” I started. “Melissa and I have been playing this game that Melissa made up. It’s all about imagining there are fairies living in the field. We build houses for them, and make museums for them, and Melissa is a curating GENIUS.”

  “That sounds AMAZING,” Colleen said. And Melissa smiled at me. A big, happy, real smile.

  “Should we play fairies?” Colleen asked.

  “Or museums!” Melissa said.

  “Or secret agents!” I said.

  “Or SUPERHEROES,” Melissa said.

  “Yes,” Colleen and I cheered.

  Just then, Alien-Face walked by.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Shhhhhhhhhh!” We (sort-of) whispered. “Get down quickly before the Villains see!”

  “What?!” he said, but already in a whispery way. “Villains? Where?!”

  He crouched down next to us. “Are we playing little-kid games?” he asked.

  “Um, no. I’ve been VERY mature recently,” Colleen said.

  “She has,” I said.

  “It’s really impressive,” Melissa added (we’re great friends this way).

  “Yeah,” Colleen said. “So today, we’re just being ourselves.”

  “Superheroes!” I said.

  “Superheroes!” Colleen and Melissa and Alien-Face said.

  We played all recess and into the afternoon (superheroes have secret identities after all, Ms. Clutter is proof of that. So we tried not to let on to the rest of class).

  And it was really nice to be friends, and heroes, together. Friends who are there for each other always. When things are hard. And hopefully, more often than not, when things are Silly.

  * * *

  The next day, I went to see Ye Ye. I wanted to bring him something nice, and he can eat a lot more now, so this time, I actually went ahead with the cookie making. My mom and I made chocolate chip cookies, and Gwen helped, and Essie sat on the floor and painted all over it with the chocolate chips Gwen accidentally let her have. “Cookie, Essie,” I said, looking at her happy, chocolate-mush-covered face. “Do you like cookies?”

  “She loves them!” Gwen said.

  “A-plus, Gwen!” I said (because grading and giving feedback is important, according to Grandma Jenkins).

  My mom and I were walking down the hallway, Gwen next to me and my mom carrying Essie, when from around the corner, in Ye Ye’s room, we heard familiar voices.

  “WAH!” Ye Ye’s voice echoed through the hallway.

  “Go, go, go!” Another voice followed his, and it was—Grandpa Jenkins?

  “Aaaaaaaaaaahh!!” Both voices yelled.

  “What on earth is going on here?” my mom asked, as we rounded the corner and looked into the room.

  “Baseball!” Grandpa Jenkins called, over Ye Ye’s cheering. “Your grandmother and Nai Nai are out on a walk with Daisy, and—”

  Just then the ball went flying across the TV screen.

  “Goooooooooooooo!!!!” Ye Ye and Grandpa Jenkins yelled at the same time.

  “Wow,” I said.

  “Wow,” my mom
said.

  “Cookie!” Gwendolyn said. (Because we’d promised her she could have one when we got inside.)

  So then there were hugs, and I passed out cookies, and Ye Ye and Grandpa Jenkins were SO happy and excited to have them. I sat with them and watched, and even though I don’t know anything about baseball, they told me when to cheer, and it was a really great time.

  And it was especially funny when Nai Nai and Grandma Jenkins came back, and Grandpa Jenkins said he’d take some cookies home for later, but we all saw him slip the bag under Ye Ye’s pillow. I giggled, and my mom snorted, and my Nai Nai shook her head, but gave my Grandpa Jenkins a kiss on the cheek when he left.

  Ye Ye was smiling and happy, and he sat up and gave me a big, real hug before I left. And from around the corner as we left, I could hear the crinkle of a cookie bag opening.

  “Grandpa’s really rubbing off on Ye Ye, isn’t he?” I asked my mom, as we got back in the car.

  “Yeah,” she said, shaking her head with a smile. “Who’d have thought?”

  And we made our way to the car, toward home, where there were more cookies waiting for us in the kitchen.

  10

  HONEY TEA

  A few times, when I’ve been at Nai Nai and Ye Ye’s, I’ve felt my throat get itchy and scratchy and my head start to pound.

  And whenever this happens, Ye Ye makes me honey tea.

  Honey tea is sweet and warm and special.

  When I was little, I loved how the golden strings of honey swirled and curlicued in the hot water until they came apart and the water turned bright, golden, colorful, and clear all at the same time.

  When I drank my Ye Ye’s honey tea, I felt it loosen and soften the hurt feeling in my throat.

  Because when you’re sitting on a sofa covered in blankets, sipping something bright and sweet with your hands warm from the cup, it’s hard to notice your pounding head or aches as much.

  So even though, when I got older, my mom explained that honey tea is just honey mixed with hot water, not actual medicine, I didn’t care.

  My Ye Ye had made it just for me.

  So I knew it would make me better.

  I’ve been thinking about honey tea a lot recently. Maybe because, just a few days ago, Ye Ye finally, after what feels like FOREVER, left the hospital.

  His apartment is a little different now. There are bars in the bathroom, a new special shower nozzle, and special mats for slipping. Nai Nai and Ye Ye’s bed had to be put on top of something to make it higher and easier to get into. There’s a walker that he keeps by the bedroom door, and a wheelchair in the front hall closet for when he needs to go out.

  I helped my dad get the changes ready (or, really, I kept him company while he looked over the shoulder of the man who was drilling everything into the wall. But that counts). Unfortunately, he also said no to some of my other suggestions for improvements, like a built-in soft-serve machine, or lights in the ceiling that projected stars on the walls, or a disco ball.

  But even if my dad didn’t like my (excellent) ideas, it was nice to be able to help.

  And best of all, when we visited yesterday, Ye Ye was home.

  He was tired, so we didn’t stay for too long. I’d wanted to bring him balloons or throw him a party to celebrate, but my parents said no. Ye Ye’s having a big birthday this summer, and my dad said we’d have a combination birthday and coming-home party then. Which is nice but made our visit less exciting than it could have been.

  I sat on the couch with Ye Ye and mimed stories. And Gwen kept pulling on his leg and saying, “Ye Ye, play with me!” But Ye Ye couldn’t play with her, because he couldn’t sit on the floor like he used to and help put small dolls and stuffed animals in little chairs for tea parties (which used to be his and Gwen’s favorite thing to do together).

  And when Essie asked him to pick her up (which she does by just holding out her arms, and only every once in a while saying, “Up”), he shook his head, and Nai Nai picked her up instead.

  But he did play peekaboo with Essie and make her laugh.

  And when Gwen needed help with her tea party I stepped in, and we had a great time making Batman sip tea and feeding her toys dried shredded pork (which I got to eat after because it’s one of my favorite snacks, so that was a win).

  * * *

  Today we didn’t get to visit Ye Ye, even though it’s the weekend. My dad has a project due, and Ye Ye has friends from Chinatown coming over. So Nai Nai said he’d be tired out by the time we could get there.

  But we still had big plans for the day.

  “So…,” my mom said, as we sat on the sofa playing with blocks (in Gwen’s case), eating blocks (in Essie’s case), and rolling blocks Essie’s way, because it makes her laugh and maybe Gwen will see that it’s fun to share (in my case).

  “I was thinking,” she went on, “that today might be a great day for … Burger Planet!”

  “Burger Planet!” Gwen leaped up, scattering her blocks. “YAY!” She did a happy twirling dance (that was excellent and Very Expressive, so she’s right on track Destiny-wise).

  “Yay!” I said. I also love Burger Planet. Especially because even though I feel a bit too old for the Out of This World Box (which is their kids’ meal, and it has a toy), I LOVE their new onion rings, and now that I don’t get an Out of This World Box I’m allowed to order them. (And if someone had just told me that onions could be fried I’d probably have learned to like them A LOT sooner.)

  “I want an Out of This World Box!” Gwen said, dancing up and down.

  “I want onion rings!” I said, bouncing up and down.

  “I want a chocolate shake!” my mom said, picking up Gwen and dancing with her, and making her laugh, and I did the same with Essie.

  We were talking and dancing around when my mom’s phone rang.

  “Hello,” she said. Then, “Are you kidding me? On a Saturday?! Fine … sure. Look … I’ll get it to you as soon as I can.”

  She hung up with a sigh.

  “I’m sorry, guys. There’s a crisis at work. Let me see if your dad can take you—Oh, he has his project…” She said some words that I’m not allowed to repeat, but they’re what adults say when things are NOT working out. And I knew she was really upset.

  “Don’t worry, Mom,” I said. “I’ll watch Gwen and Essie.”

  “Oh … um…” She seemed to want to argue but then sighed. “Are you sure, sweetie?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “It’ll be fun.”

  “THANK YOU,” she said, giving me a big kiss on the forehead. “There are leftovers in the fridge for lunch.”

  “Great,” I said.

  “I’m so sorry, guys,” my mom gave Gwen and Essie hugs and kisses. “I promise we’ll go tomorrow. You’re a lifesaver, Cilla,” she said, giving me another kiss on the forehead.

  I smiled, because that was really nice to hear.

  My mom dashed upstairs to her office, and Gwen watched her go, with big eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Gwen,” I said. “It’ll just be us today.”

  “But…,” she stammered. “But … but I want to go to Burger Planet!” Her sentence began as words but ended as a wail.

  “I know.” I tried to make my voice sound soothing.

  “Mommy said!” Gwen started to cry.

  “Yeah, she did,” I said, patting her back and trying to calm her down, “but something came up.”

  “But…” Gwen’s fists were curled and angry, and her cheeks were red, and I knew she was on the edge of a tantrum.

  But this time, I didn’t think it was annoying. Because if you’re two and your mom promised you something, it must be hard to understand how the plan has to change. That’s a lot to deal with, for such a small person.

  In fact, it’s probably really, really fuhstrating.

  “But I want an Out of This World Box!” Gwen cried, and the tantrum was just a few seconds away …

  “And you’ll get one!” I said suddenly.

  “I get one?” sh
e asked, surprised.

  “Yeah!” I said, getting more and more excited. “We’re going to have one for lunch! It’s a special kind, though, the most special of all. We’re going to have it here!”

  “Really?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Really,” I said.

  “A real one?” she asked.

  “Better than real,” I said. “Just you wait.”

  * * *

  I let Gwen and Essie watch a TV show while I made lunch (which is a big treat because usually TV is for the afternoons or after dinner).

  I cut up carrot sticks to look just like French fries, and I folded a piece of tin foil to look like the paper package that the French fries at Burger Planet come in. Then, with a permanent marker, I drew a giant “B” on the side of the foil, just like Burger Planet’s.

  For the burger, I used a roll, turkey, and slices of Gwen’s favorite cheese, and I wrapped it in a piece of waxed paper, just like at Burger Planet.

  For the dessert, I took out the brownies we’d had the night before, and I smooshed one into the shape of a cookie (because that’s what Burger Planet gives you).

  Then I found a paper bag, and drew swirls and stars all over it, and I even drew a MAZE for Gwen to complete, because the box Burger Planet gives you has games on it, and while mine wasn’t quite as good as the box, I think I got pretty close.

  Finally, as a finishing touch, I dashed into my room (very fast, because I know you should watch Essie at all times, but she was in front of the TV, plus this was an Emergency). I found two old toys that I hadn’t played with in a loooong time—a tiny plush dog with rainbow-colored ears, and a plastic princess action figure that I’d been meaning to give away for a while.

  I put the food and toys into a bag, and I crinkled up the top and rolled it shut.

  I opened the front door, like someone had just knocked, and shut it again.

  “Food delivery!” I said. “The Out of This World Box is here!”

  “Burger Planet!” Gwen yelled.