Cilla Lee-Jenkins: The Epic Story

by Susan Tan

  She came running, and I met her at the living room doorway holding the bag.

  “Look what they brought you, Gwen!” I said.

  “Yay!!!!” she said.

  “I think they even packed an extra toy for Essie!” I added.

  And there was nothing for Gwen to do but her very, very happy dance.

  Gwen LOVED her Out of This World Box, and Essie ate mashed peas and some crackers, and played with her new dog toy.

  I sat with them, and ate leftovers, and felt a little amazed.

  Because I couldn’t believe that had worked. Gwen was SO happy, and she’d been SO sad. And somehow, I’d helped make her that way.

  In fact, I felt like I’d passed a test, or proved myself in a Trial of Loyalty (which all heroes have to do at some point).

  After lunch, we went to go play in the living room, and when I got down to try to grab one of Essie’s toys from under the couch, I heard Gwen squeal, “Doggie pile!”

  “Oh no, not the doggie pile!” I yelled in a play-scared voice.

  Gwen flopped onto my back, and Essie followed.

  “Oof,” I said, in a non-play voice.

  I sort of wished I hadn’t taught them this particular trick on the one day I thought this would be the BEST way to wake my dad up from a nap (though in fairness to me it worked really well because he was VERY surprised and his face was funny to see).

  But then I also laughed, because it was really funny, and Gwen and Essie were having a great time. And I propped my head on my hands, so I could turn back and make faces at them.

  “Isn’t this fun?!” I said, helping Essie as she scooched off my back. “Burger Planet today, and then tomorrow, we’ll go see Ye Ye!”

  Essie shook her head. But not in an excited way. In a way that meant “no.”

  “Ye Ye is boooooring,” Gwen said, plopping down on the rug next to me.

  “Gwen!” I gasped, shocked.

  I didn’t know what to say.

  I wanted to explain to them that this wasn’t true, and that they’d made a Terrible Mistake, but Essie started chewing on Gwen’s “Out of This World toy,” so suddenly there was that to deal with.

  Afterward, I didn’t want to talk about Ye Ye anymore. So we didn’t, and luckily Gwen and Essie got really excited about making a pillow fort, which took up most of our time. We were still playing when my mom got done with her work crisis, and she gave me a big hug, and we went to the park, which was a nice end to the day. At dinner, she and my dad said they were really, really proud of me. And my mom said that later, we’d talk about starting an allowance for me, since I was such a big help.

  Which was really nice.

  And should feel like a victory.

  But I’m not sure if it does.

  * * *

  Now, I’m in bed, thinking.

  I learned a lot in these past few days. About what I can do, and about Babysitting, and taking care of people, and helping.

  I’m getting so much better at it too.

  But the more I learn, the more I worry that what I’m doing isn’t enough.

  I imagine something sweet and magic that could uncurl the stiffness in Ye Ye’s smile, and bring back the strength to his arms, and unlock the words in his head.

  I imagine Ye Ye, my Ye Ye, leaping out of bed like he used to jump off the couch after a nap. I imagine him spinning me and Gwen and Essie for hugs, and telling stories that make me clap, and make Gwen giggle her high laugh that sounds like a bell.

  I imagine my sisters knowing Ye Ye, fun and Silly, always there for a joke, and a twirl, and a story whenever you need it.

  And I remember my Epic, and how sure I was, when Ye Ye went to the hospital, that I’d make him better. That I could take care of him, and his words would come back, and everything would be the way it was before.

  But sometimes, now, I wonder if that’s ever really going to happen.

  I wonder if Essie and Gwen will never know my fun, playing, Wise Ye Ye, who can make everything better and leap onto a carousel with one jump.

  I wonder if I really am getting too old for magic.

  And I wonder if I’ll ever have honey tea again.

  11

  BEWARE THE PEACOCKS, AND OTHER CONCLUSIONS FROM THE ZOO

  I know I haven’t been the biggest fan of fifth grade. And I’m realizing that this isn’t entirely fair, because there are some HUGE perks to being a fifth grader.

  For example, we’re having an Award Ceremony at the end of the year, complete with a pizza party for all our families. At the ceremony, there’s one winner in each class for every subject. And it’s the perfect opportunity, because if you win your name goes on a plaque in the school hallway and will always be there. So if you win, everyone knows that you’re the best at your subject, plus your name is IMMORTAL (which is a synonym for “forever.”). And I can’t think of anything more Epic than that.

  And, as you can probably guess, I REALLY want to win the English Award.

  There are other big perks to being a fifth grader, too.

  And one of these is a trip to the zoo.

  I’d been looking forward to this trip all year. And there was more excitement to come, when my mom said, “Right! I signed up to help on this one—let me make sure it’s in my calendar. I think I might have scheduled a meeting then.”

  “Oh, a field trip?” my dad said. “I’ll go.”

  “It’s okay, Nathan,” my mom said, flipping through her calendar. I’m sure I can reschedule. I know things are hectic…”

  “No, seriously,” my dad said. “I know I haven’t been around much—with everything going on—and we’re long overdue for some quality time together. Right, kiddo?” he asked, mussing my hair.

  “Yeah!” I said. “Plus there are supposed to be PEACOCKS there, and you can meet Mimi Donnelly and tell me if you think she’s to be trusted.”

  “See?” He turned to my mom with a laugh. “I have a lot to do.”

  There was nothing for my mom to do but laugh too and say, “You win!”

  So then my dad leaned over and kissed her, and I looked away and said, “GROSSSSSS,” and held up my hand to block them out, because that’s what Colleen does with her parents.

  But secretly, it made me kind of happy.

  And ESPECIALLY because my DAD was coming to the ZOO.

  * * *

  The day of the field trip arrived. My dad drove me to school, and he and I packed lunches in brown paper bags.

  (“Burger Planet?” Gwen asked when she saw them.

  “No,” I said. “These are just normal lunches. But we’ll have to get delivery from them again soon.”

  “Yeah!” she said.)

  It was funny to have my dad in school with me, and to see other parents in school. Tim #2’s stepmom was there, and so was Melissa’s dad, and Melvin’s mom.

  Ms. Paradise had asked all the chaperones to take pictures during the day, so my dad had brought his big and fancy camera, which was his birthday gift from my mom last year.

  We all rode a bus to the zoo (which was also funny, because it’s always weird to be on a school bus and to realize that one of your parents is sitting in the front seat, telling jokes with Melissa’s dad).

  Before we left, Ms. Paradise divided us all into groups. Sadly, Colleen was in a group with Ms. Paradise as a chaperone, and Melissa was with her dad (which makes sense, but still was sad, because it would have been fun to go around the zoo with her, and Colleen should have DEFINITELY been in my group because we’re best friends).

  But, at least Alien-Face was with me. So was Tim #1 (which made Alien-Face smile), then Lina, Sally, and, last of all, Mimi Donnelly.

  Which was funny because this time I was actually glad, because my dad would get a chance to see her all day and tell me what he thought.

  The zoo was possibly the best place I’ve ever visited. There were peacocks and baby ducks wandering around, not in cages. We saw panda bears in big enclosures full of beautiful green leaves and trees, and
one panda sat on a branch and watched us as it chewed a stick, and I imagined SO MANY stories about what it was thinking. We also went inside a butterfly house, a building made of clear glass where there are plants and butterflies EVERYWHERE. They flew around us, we held out honey treats for them, a butterfly landed on Tim #1’s NOSE and on my shoulder, and my dad got pictures both times and it was MAGICAL. We also saw a hippo BABY, which was tiny compared to the parents but actually HUGE, and it lay with its face half in the water and blinked sleepily and blew bubbles.

  There were other highlights of the day too.

  And one of the best came at lunchtime.

  Our group had gathered around one long picnic table, and everyone was pulling out their lunches and bags of food. I had just taken a bite of my sandwich, when I heard Alien-Face yell.

  “Look,” he said, “a peacock!”

  “Wow,” I said. It was right in front of us, strutting up and down the rows of picnic tables, its beautiful blue and purple feathers ruffled out in a shining fan.

  “Get a picture, Mr. Lee,” Mimi said.

  I heard the camera go “Click! Click! Click!”

  “Do you think it lives here all the time?” Alien-Face asked me, as the peacock came closer and the camera clicked away.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I think so—Aaaah!”

  My sandwich was suddenly GONE.

  Specifically, into the beak of the peacock, which had suddenly, without warning, darted forward and grabbed it. The peacock who was now shuffling away, with my lunch in its mouth.

  I heard my tablemates shouting, and my dad saying, “Are you okay, Cilla?!”

  I’d jumped up before I really realized that I probably did NOT want my sandwich back from the peacock’s mouth.

  The funny part was, the peacock knew it too. It didn’t run away or anything. Instead, it turned back to look at me, totally unconcerned. Then it dropped my sandwich on the ground, picked out the pieces of bread, and started waddling away with them, just as calmly as it had walked into the pavilion. But suddenly—

  I gasped, as I realized what lay in front of me. It had fallen from the peacock’s tail, right at my feet. I picked it up. It was a long and perfect peacock feather—purple, blue, and green.

  “Thank you!” I shouted after the peacock. “Enjoy the sandwich!”

  Because even though I was hungry, that seemed like more than a fair trade.

  Melissa’s dad watched our group while my dad took me to buy a new lunch and to wash my hands. He said I could keep the feather, but apparently we had to disinfect it before I could really play with it. Which makes no sense because it was VERY clean—how else could it be so bright and colorful? But he insisted, and I knew there was no fighting it.

  “Wow,” my dad said once we were in line (with clean hands). “What an Adventure.”

  “Seriously!” I said. “I can’t wait to tell mom about it!”

  “I was taking a picture right as it happened,” he said. “I think I actually got a photo. Let’s look.” He showed me the screen on the camera; we scrolled through.

  There was a photo of me and Alien-Face laughing, and the peacock just behind us.

  And then—

  “You got it, Dad!” I yelled.

  There, on the screen, was a picture of the exact moment that it happened. A picture of me, my mouth wide in shock, as the peacock pulled my sandwich out of my hands.

  “That is the best thing I have EVER SEEN,” I said, when we’d caught our breath from laughing. And to be fair, I really wasn’t exaggerating—how often do you get to meet a robber peacock, let alone catch it on camera?!

  The line for food was a little long, but luckily we were too busy laughing over the photos to notice. Then my dad showed me the others he’d taken that day.

  “These are amazing!” I said.

  “Thanks,” he said, smiling. “I wanted to be a photographer when I was younger, you know. I was always making art when I was little, and in high school I even got a scholarship to an arts school. That’s why your mom got me this camera.”

  “Wow,” I said. I hadn’t known that. “Why didn’t you go?”

  “Because of Nai Nai and Ye Ye,” Dad said. “They were very Traditional Chinese parents. So they said no.”

  “But—” I looked up at him. “But why would they do that? I mean, why would they…?”

  “Sweetie, it’s nothing to get upset about,” he said. “They were just trying to take care of me. Things were very hard for them when they first came here. They wanted me to be okay, and to have a job, and enough money to have a family, and to them, the way to get all that was to go into a certain kind of work.”

  I’d sort of known this about Nai Nai and Ye Ye. But I hadn’t realized that it actually meant that my dad couldn’t do things he’d really wanted to do.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said, taking my hand. “I split the difference and became a graphic designer, which meant I got to do art, but I also have a more traditional job. That’s why I started my own business. It means I can do more of the art I want to, and go back to all the things I loved when I was a kid.”

  “Oh,” I said. I didn’t know you could do that.

  Then, something else occurred to me.

  “But … Nai Nai and Ye Ye know I want to be a writer, and they’ve never told me to do something else. They buy me notebooks, and they love my stories.”

  “Yeah,” he said, “and it’s great. They’ve changed as they’ve gotten older. They’re much more laid-back. And they want you to be happy.”

  “Huh,” I said. This was a nice idea.

  “Is this why you never taught us Chinese?” I asked.

  “Um…” He made a thinking face. “I’ve never thought about it. I dunno. I think I just wanted to leave some of those old ways and expectations behind. And since your mom doesn’t know any Chinese, it made it even easier to do that. Why?” he asked. “Do you want to learn?”

  “I mean”—I shrugged—“sometimes I think it would be nice. Especially with Ye Ye.”

  “Well,” my dad said. “We can look into that. Maybe we can find you some Cantonese classes over the summer.”

  “Yeah!” I said with a big smile. “And maybe you can find a photography class.”

  “Uh, I don’t need a photography class,” my dad teased. “I’ll have you know that I’m an excellent artist.”

  “Well, I am too, and—” I began to tease back. But then something else occurred to me. “Wait, Dad,” I gasped. “Do you know what this means?!”

  “Um, what?”

  “You have your own Epic destiny! It runs in the family! And now,” I went on, “you have someone to believe in you, because I do, and I bet Nai Nai and Ye Ye do too, now that you’re older, and Mom, because she bought you the camera. So you should take more photos, Dad! You have to cultivate your art. You can’t fight destiny. It’s never too late!”

  My dad laughed, and people around us in line looked at me a little funny, because I was maybe VERY carried away. But I didn’t mind. Because this is Destiny we were talking about. And Destiny is Serious Business.

  “Well, thank you, Cilla,” my dad said. “You know”—his voice was more Serious now—“you’re right. I should start taking more photos, even if it’s not for work. I really do love it.”

  “Excellent,” I said as we neared the food counter. “Also, when you’re a famous photographer and everyone’s giving you money to take their photo, remember who got you started.”

  My dad laughed as the clerk called us forward. “So you’re asking if you can have fries and a soda?”

  “Yes.” I grinned, because he knows me very well.

  “Sure,” he said, grinning back. “But don’t tell your mom.”

  We both got sodas, and I got French fries and a hot dog to replace my sandwich, and it was a fun time.

  And as if all this wasn’t enough Drama and excitement, and as if I hadn’t already learned SO MUCH about my dad, I learned EVEN MORE before the da
y was done.

  Because after lunch came the exhibit that Alien-Face and Mimi were the most excited about—the exhibit called BIG CATS! (This isn’t just me being Dramatic—that’s what the sign says. The letters are all caps and streaked with tiger stripes, and the exclamation mark is dotted with a giant cat pawprint.)

  The first stop was the tiger enclosure. It was a bright, sunny day, so the tigers were in their outside cage, separated from us by two layers of wire. But there wasn’t glass or anything, which was exciting, because as Alien-Face pointed out, we and the tigers were breathing the same air.

  “Okay, guys, get in front of the wire,” my dad said, raising his camera. “One, two, achoo!!” The click went off, but the camera had moved with his sneeze. “Sorry!” he said. “One, two, thr—AaaaCHOOO!”

  “Sorry!” my dad said again, shaking his head. “Must be the pollen.”

  “Here, Dad!” I ran over to him. “I can take them. It’ll be fun!”

  “Thanks, sweetie,” he said, as he wiped his nose with a tissue from his pocket.

  “Click.” I took a photo of Alien-Face waving at one of the tigers.

  “Click.” Mimi wanted a photo where she was scared of the tiger, and then another where she was roaring at it (which was all very impressive, and I hoped my dad was paying attention, because imagination is a good thing to judge someone on).

  All the while—“Achoo!!” my dad said. He went over by the cage to get out of the way of a family with a stroller. “Achoo!” he said again. I took a photo.

  The tiger, in the background, came closer to the wire.

  “Ah-Ah-CHOO!!!!”

  “Click.” The camera caught it, and I was very pleased with the photo I’d taken, my dad sneezing, a GIANT tiger in the background, crouching, looking just like the exhibit said, a—

  “DAD!” I said suddenly. “Your allergies.”

  “Wha-ACHOO!” he tried to ask.

  “You know how you’re allergic to cats?” I said. “Well…”

  My dad turned to look at the tiger, which was looking at him through the chain-link.

  “I mean, it is a BIG cat,” I said.