by Susan Tan
“Yeah!” I said, punching the air too. “Brass Buddies for Life!”
And then Dr. Torres, our principal, cleared her throat and said, “Let’s settle down now,” so Hattie had to go back to her seat. But she waved and smiled and said, “We’ll talk soon!”
The ceremony began. One student from each class won each award, and they went up to the stage to shake hands with Dr. Torres and the teacher giving the award, and they got a certificate to hang on their wall that said their name in fancy gold letters.
Mr. Pod announced the Science Award, and I held my breath, and Colleen WON! There was A LOT of cheering (though I, Alien-Face, and Melissa were the loudest, of course). Especially when Mr. Pod said he was sure she’d make it to space someday, when he shook her hand.
Melissa won the Art Award, and Alien-Face and a beaming Colleen and I yelled her name as loud as we could. And Alien-Face got a special Citizen’s Award, for being a great member of the community, and I was REALLY happy for him because he is.
Finally, last of all, it was time for the English Award.
“The English Award goes to students who have demonstrated excellence in their writing, and who have shown creativity, dedication, and passion for the art of writing,” Ms. Sutter, the fifth-grade English tutor, said, reading from a card. “From Mr. Kessler’s class, the English Award goes to Billy Lane!” Everyone cheered, and I did too, because Billy’s very nice. “From Ms. Glazer’s class, the award goes to Yasmin Aguilar!” We all cheered because Yasmin is great and tells AMAZING stories. “Finally, from Ms. Paradise’s class, the English Award goes to…”
I held my breath.
“Mimi Donnelly!”
There was applause, and I saw Mimi get up with a giant smile on her face to join the others onstage.
I felt disappointed, and my breath came out in a sad kind of sigh.
But I realized that my hands were clapping too, along with everyone else.
And I saw what my mom meant about Changes, and how this was a time of big and unexpected ones.
Because I was sad. I’d really wanted that award.
But I saw Mimi’s smile, and I heard her family (and Hattie!) cheering. And I felt happy for her.
Which was weird.
But nice.
The winners made their way back to their seats, and we waited for Dr. Torres to come up and finish the assembly.
But I looked away for a minute, so I could smile and give Mimi a thumbs-up as she sat down, and she smiled and waved back at me.
So I didn’t notice who the next speaker was, until I heard a familiar voice begin to speak.
“Hello,” the voice said. “Usually the English Award is the last award given out to our students. But this year, I’m delighted to announce a new award, in a category we’ve never given out before.”
I looked up. There, at the podium, was Ms. Clutter.
“The brand-new Library Award,” she went on, “will be awarded to one student from the whole fifth grade who shows outstanding commitment to our library, and to reading. This year, our very first winner is someone who has truly made a difference to our reading community. She’s visited the library almost every day since the school year began. She’s volunteered her time to help create reading lists and book recommendations. And she’s always willing to try a new book and help a fellow classmate find a good story. So, the Library Award this year, for the very first time, goes to—”
Colleen was already nudging me, but I could barely make sense of what was happening and—
“Cilla Lee-Jenkins!” Ms. Clutter finished.
All around me my friends and classmates began to clap, and I heard Colleen yelling my name and Alien-Face and Melissa. But I also heard Mimi saying, “WOW, CILLA!” And from the middle of the audience, I heard the unmistakable sound of my family, cheering.
“I’m so proud of you, Cilla!” Ms. Clutter said, as she gave me a BIG hug and handed me a certificate, written in fancy gold letters, in a gold frame.
“Thank you, Ms. Clutter!” I said, as she put her arm around me and turned me so I could hold up my certificate.
And that moment, with my Ye Ye standing as he clapped, Grandpa Jenkins with his arm around Ye Ye, holding Gwen with the other and cheering, my Nai Nai and Grandma Jenkins leaning against each other as they clapped and yelled, my mom clapping her hands with shiny eyes as she held Gwendolyn, and above it all the unmistakable “click” and flashing of my dad’s camera, felt like something Epic all its own.
* * *
I walked my family to our classroom for our class party, and Ye Ye and I exchanged special, in-joke looks as we went. (When he saw the pineapples he raised his eyebrows and gave me a glance that meant “Oh my goodness, it IS A Bit Much.”)
All our families were there, and everyone was talking excitedly.
“Cilla!” Colleen yelled, running over and jumping up and down, as she looked at my award and I admired the gold-lined planet drawn on hers. “You’re the first-ever Library Award winner, Cilla! They MADE IT FOR YOU!” she said.
“Well, Mr. Pod said you’re DEFINITELY going to space,” I said, also hopping up and down.
“Best day ever!” she said, throwing her arms around me.
“Oh, now smile!” I heard my dad’s voice call out above all the talking and laughing around us.
So we did, and my dad took a photo and showed it to us on the view screen.
“Beautiful, Dad!” I said.
Because feedback is important.
Besides, he’s a VERY talented photographer, which I know because he’d caught the perfect moment.
Which makes sense. It’s his Destiny, after all.
My dad had a chance to capture LOTS more perfect moments that afternoon.
There was the picture of Ye Ye and Alien-Face, each with their mouths wide-open, about to bite into GIANT pieces of pizza. There was a picture of me, Melissa, and her Abuela, holding up Melissa’s Art Award. There was a picture of me, Nai Nai, Ye Ye, Grandma Jenkins, Grandpa Jenkins, and Essie and Gwen, with Gwen clutching my Library Award and Essie trying to chew the corner. (Don’t worry, Grandma Jenkins stopped her juuuust in time.) There was a picture of me, Hattie, and Mimi smiling.
There was even a picture of me, Ms. Clutter, and Ms. Paradise.
And if you’d heard our conversation just before my dad took that photo, you might have been surprised. Because Mrs. Paradise had made her way through all the families, talking and laughing, to find me.
“Congratulations, Cilla!” she said. “I was thrilled when Ms. Clutter suggested this. She and I went to Dr. Torres together and convinced her that she HAD to make this new award. The plaque will be here soon, and your name will be the first one on it!”
“Wow,” I said. “Thank you, Ms. Paradise!”
I felt a smile grow on my face, and Ms. Paradise grinned back.
Just then, Ms. Clutter walked over, and my dad said, “Smile!” So we did.
And as the camera clicked, I realized that maybe fifth grade wasn’t a paradise. But Ms. Paradise hadn’t been that bad, either.
She may have even been a Wise Guide, kind of like Ms. Clutter.
Though without the same amazing style, and probably without the superpowers, too.
* * *
At the end of the party, Ms. Paradise gave a speech.
“Coming to a new school, and teaching a new grade hasn’t been easy,” she said. “But this class has been everything I could hope for: generous to me and understanding of my mistakes—”
(“Oops,” Colleen whispered with a guilty smile. I grinned sheepishly and agreed.)
“—fun, excited to learn,” Ms. Paradise went on. “Above all, they’ve cared for each other and supported each other in ways that never fail to surprise and impress me. Thank you to my fifth graders,” she said, raising her cup of juice in a toast. “The middle school is lucky to have you.”
All the parents said, “Hear! Hear!”
Colleen and I looked at each other.
&
nbsp; “Maybe we should come back to visit,” I whispered.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “I mean she’s new to the school, so she doesn’t know a lot of kids. We can’t abandon her.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Exactly.”
* * *
The day wound down, and soon all our parents were packing up.
Hattie left with her parents, carrying some of Mimi’s notebooks. But right before she left, she came dashing over to me.
“I came up with the perfect name for us next year! Operation Overcome Ogre!”
“Yes!” I gasped. “And our tubas will be our Magic Talismans, protecting us!”
“YES!” she said, jumping up and down. Then her parents called, and she raced away to catch up with them.
I watched her go, and Colleen and I exchanged surprised but happy glances.
And all I could do was grin.
Because Operation Overcome Ogre was a great story. An EPIC one.
And in middle school, of all places.
As we packed up our desks, I looked up for a moment and watched my family as Nai Nai and Grandpa Jenkins helped Ye Ye make his way toward the classroom door.
I held my award and looked at it, and at Mimi Donnelly, with the English Award that I’d wanted so badly.
And I saw the story I’d had in my head. The one that said I had to get that award.
That story hadn’t come true. But it was okay that it hadn’t.
And I’d told myself that middle school was where my stories would have to stop. But actually, that’s not true. My Epic Adventure gets to keep going.
As I watched my family, I realized that I had another story in my head too.
A story about Ye Ye.
A story that also isn’t true.
Because Ye Ye isn’t going to get his English back right now. Maybe not even ever.
I’ve known this for a while.
But it’s a hard story to change.
I felt sad as I watched my Ye Ye go, and let the story go with him.
I clutched my Library Award, and I thought of the unexpected things that happen, outside of any story you can imagine or make up. And how some of them can be really, really nice and not bad things at all.
And as I walked with my classmates out the doorway of Ms. Paradise’s classroom, and for the last time, down the hallway of our elementary school, with the other classes lined up to see us off, and cheering, it happened.
As one story left, another one came.
Something new and unexpected,
Something Silly and Serious all at the same time,
Something Epic.
14
THE EPIC OF CILLA LEE-JENKINS
On the day of my Ye Ye’s birthday and coming-home party, I wore my red-and-gold cheongsam, which is a beautiful Chinese dress.
I had the perfect gift for him, too.
Banquets have SO MUCH food. You sit at round tables, and each has a spinning tray in the middle that moves the food around and around (and closer and closer to you, which is maybe the most important part). There are so many courses too, and it feels impossible to keep track. There was duck, shrimp, sizzling tofu, noodles, scallop soup, spare ribs, soy-sauce chicken, bok choy, and so much more. Plus my Ye Ye made sure that there would also be tzuck sang there too. Just for me. And for Nai Nai. Because we have a favorite food in common, which is possibly the best kind of Similarity there is.
The restaurant was big and bustling. Everywhere I looked were my family and friends. Aunties and Uncles from Chinatown and the community center laughed and joked, and Ronnie from the hospital sat at their table, laughing along with them. Auntie Eva sat talking and laughing with my mom, her arm resting on her stomach (another GIANT surprise), which was big, and round, and smooth.
My dad threw Gwen into the air while she shrieked and laughed and said, “Again, Daddy, again!” Essie sat with Nai Nai and Uncle Paul (Auntie Eva’s husband) and nibbled on something she was clearly enjoying—her first taste of snails. (Trust me, they’re delicious.)
My Grandma Jenkins sat with Ye Ye, and Ye Ye was already wearing Grandpa Jenkins’s gift for him—a bow tie with the logo of their favorite baseball team.
Everyone was talking, and laughing, and happy.
And I was too.
Especially when it was time for presents.
“Happy birthday, Ye Ye,” I said. I had to lay the gift down on the table, because it was big, and I worried he wouldn’t be able to hold the whole thing.
He put his hand to his chest with a surprised smile as if to say, “For me?!”
I nodded, and smiled back.
It took him a minute to tear off the paper. But he did it, with both hands, slowly and carefully. Finally, he peeled back the gold layer.
“Ay yah!” he said.
That seemed to be all he could say, for a minute. And then, “BEAUTIFUL,” he said in a happy whisper.
And it was (if I do say so myself).
The photo was the size of a small poster, and safely behind glass in a beautiful frame that I’d bought with my brand-new allowance (plus a little help from my dad, because he said it was a Special Occasion so we should only get the Best. And a brand-new middle school allowance apparently doesn’t quite cover the Best. But we’ll get there).
In the photo, I wore the very same cheongsam I was wearing now. I lay on my stomach in front of a white wall, smiling at the camera. And above me, Gwen and Essie were happily dog-piled across on my back, both wearing their cheongsams too. In her hands, Essie held a baseball out to the camera, like she was just about to throw it (which she actually did a moment later—my dad took the photo just in time). And on our heads, we all wore baseball caps, bright with the logo of my Ye Ye and Grandpa Jenkins’s favorite team.
“Guess who took it, Ye Ye?” I asked.
But I didn’t even need to tell him.
“Wah”—he turned to my dad—“what an artist!”
He reached out a hand and squeezed my dad’s shoulder, and my dad put his hand on Ye Ye’s and squeezed back. And there was no need for either of them to talk, because just like me and Ye Ye, they understood each other perfectly.
After gifts, there were speeches, toasts, and a cake decorated with white cream and strawberries and kiwis on top. The adults talked and laughed, and I sometimes sat with them, but other times ran around with Gwen and Essie.
I got to sit with Auntie Eva, too, who I haven’t seen in so long. She let me feel when the baby kicked, and she told me all about the nursery they’re decorating, and how she wants me to be my new cousin’s Official Librarian, and she promised that she wouldn’t buy any books for the baby’s room until I sent her a list of recommendations.
And it was funny, because thinking about a brand-new cousin made me think about how much time had passed, and how I’ve maybe changed too. I’m not that much taller (sadly). But I’m also different, in other ways. Which I didn’t really notice until Ye Ye, from across the table, grabbed the armrests of his chair to pull himself up, and Auntie Eva pushed her chair back, like she was about to jump up.
“Oh, don’t,” I said. She turned to me, surprised.
“Don’t help unless he asks,” I explained. “He’s still Ye Ye—he can do things for himself.”
She looked at me with funny smile.
“How did you get so grown-up?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said with a small smile, feeling my cheeks get a little red, because this was a BIG compliment. “Ms. Clutter, my school librarian, says I’m an Old Soul,” I said. “So maybe that’s it.”
“I think she’s right,” Auntie Eva said, giving me a kiss on the cheek.
“Well”—I shrugged—“I don’t really know what an Old Soul is, so I guess I can’t be THAT impressive.”
Nai Nai came over to sit with us too. We talked and laughed and made faces at Essie, who was sitting across from us with my dad next to Ye Ye. So we had a clear view, when Gwen came toddling over to Ye Ye.
She held Bat
man.
Ye Ye took him, looking very happy, like he thought it was another gift. Then he went “Whooosh!” And Batman flew, up and up, landed on Gwen’s ear with full Batman sound effects, booped her nose, and then flew straight onto Ye Ye’s head. “Ta-da!!!” Ye Ye said.
The room was busy and loud, but I could still hear, from across the table, as Gwen opened her mouth.
“Silly!” she shrieked, in her loudest, happiest voice. “Why are you Silly?!” She giggled.
And then, a voice spoke. A new, deep, loud voice.
“Becaws he’s Ya Ya!” Essie said.
“Hey,” my mom said.
“Finally,” my dad said.
“Great answer, Essie!” I said. “A-plus.”
“Hm.” Gwen frowned. Then, “He’s my Ye Ye.”
“No, my Ya Ya!” Essie boomed, trying to scramble onto Ye Ye’s lap, as Gwen did the same.
“Uh-oh,” my mom said.
Luckily, Grandpa Jenkins came over and let Gwen play with his bow tie, which distracted her from the fight, which I’m guessing is going to be a BIG Theme from now on.
Nai Nai and I smiled at each other and shook our heads like we didn’t approve (we did).
“So Silly,” I said.
“Ay yah,” Nai Nai said. “Some things never change.”
“No,” I said, leaning into her shoulder with a happy sigh. “I guess they don’t, do they?”
She put her arm around me, and I put mine around her, and we watched Gwen and Essie laugh and giggle and say “Play with me, Ye Ye!” and “Again!” and “Bow tie!” and “Silly!” as Ye Ye played peekaboo and Grandpa Jenkins made funny faces.
“Oh, Cilla,” my dad said, coming to sit by me. “Uncle Gerard was just telling me that there’s a children’s beginner’s Cantonese class this summer, if you’re interested. The only thing is you’d have to start in a younger class. But he says that you can be the teacher’s helper, if you’d like that.”