Maci Masaki Makes Her Mark

by Charley Pickle

  My phone rings. It’s Amy Price. She is asking if she can come over.

  “Right now?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  I ask my parents.

  “It is too late.”

  I tell her that, but she says, “Well, actually I’m in your building’s lobby with my mom and the other weirdos. We are waiting.”

  I tell my parents it is an emergency. They agree to let them up.

  When my dad and mom open the door of our apartment, Amy introduces herself, her mom, Jayden, and Eli to my father and mother. My parents seems shy and embarrassed.

  But Amy’s mom takes her shoes off and puts on house slippers. She tells them about her visit to Japan for the Peace Corps.

  “Really?” Their shoulders relax. They invite everyone in for tea. My mother sets out chocolate sticks.

  “These are Japanese candy?” Eli asks, as he takes another chocolate stick.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Do you know the song for the candy?”

  “What? No!” Eli eats another.

  I show him the commercial on my phone. He dances to it. “This is so cool! Jayden, we should play this song!”

  I think he is on a sugar high.

  Jayden nods. He is quiet around my family. Even shyer than me.

  “Eli, don’t get off track,” Amy says. “We are on a mission.”

  My parents talk to Amy’s mom in the kitchen. The weirdos and I gather around the kitchen table.

  “So, I called Dr. Waters, and she said that we can go into school tomorrow at 5:00 a.m. We can paint the mural before school starts. If we all work together, we can repaint it in time. Then it can dry during the day.”

  “Wow,” I say. “Then it will be perfect for Parents’ Night.”

  “Yes!” Amy says.

  I say, “Radical bananas!”

  Amy Price laughs. This is the first time I said a joke and she laughed!

  Eli has eaten all of the chocolate sticks. He is zooming around the kitchen.

  Amy puts her shoes back on. “Come on, guys. We have to go. See you at 5:00 a.m. in front of the school!”

  After my friends leave, my mother and father say goodbye to Amy’s mom. They each put a hand on my shoulders. “You have made very kind friends, Amy. This is a hard thing to do.”

  I nod. “And you guys have made your first American friend. Who is not a business friend!”

  My father blushes. He is embarrassed that I am speaking to him like this. He is so much older than me. But I know he knows this is true.

  I lie in my own bed, in my neat and organized room. And for the first time since moving here, I feel confident.

  We wake up so early. We paint over the marker. Each student writes a reason they are thankful to go to PS. 71 in their bubble.

  At Parents’ Night, the mural is beautiful. The room smells like warm sugar cookies. My parents hold little cups of orange juice. They stand behind me looking at the neon tetra. It is bright blue. I used red sparkling paint for the tail. It is looking at the shark, the angelfish, and the betta. It says, “I’m in a new ocean. But I am happy for my friends at PS. 71!”

  My parents ask to take my photo in front of it. After, they ask to take a photo of all of my American friends. When my dad counts down the photo, we shout, “Weirdos!”

  At the end of the night, we ask our parents to sit with us at the weirdo table. My father sits next to Eli’s mom, Pastor Kim.

  My mother sits next to Amy’s mom. I hear them making plans to have coffee together. I sit next to Jayden’s little sisters. They ask me to teach them how to draw horses. I do. Jayden’s mom combs his hair. Jayden says, “Yo, Mom! Cool it with the annoying!” I am happy to know Jayden thinks his parents are annoying, too.

  My parents look at me across the table. They are no longer nervous talking in English to Americans. I guess friendship doesn’t require each person to be the same. Maybe friendships happen when people are different from one another. Maybe the things we like about each other aren’t being from the same country, or looking the same, or speaking the same. But maybe a weirder thing.

  We need friends who accept and see us for who we really are: weird, unusual, messy, unsure, not confident, but trying. Swimming along. Together. Maybe this is the most beautiful thing of all.

  The field smells like fresh-cut grass. Today is the start of the second week of football tryouts.

  I am all steam and power. I am a guy in motion. My feet move up, up, up. Then to the right, to the right, to the right. To the left, to the left, to the left. Then grapevine, back and forth across the grass. I’m not the fastest kid. I’m not the strongest. I’m not the best thrower. But I’m doing okay.

  My breath makes cloudlike puffs in the chilly morning air. The sun bounces off the windows of my school. This is Public School 71 in the spring.

  I’m wearing a practice jersey. By the end of this week, I want a real one. A Panthers jersey with the name “Michaels” and the number nine on the back. I really want to be number nine.

  When I came into school this morning, I saw my name, “Eli Michaels,” written on the comeback list. Eight guys got cut last week.

  Today at tryouts, I have nervous, happy energy. I already made it through one round of cuts. If I get in, I can practice with the team all summer. Then we can be champions next year!

  A lot of kids at my school think I’m a goody two-shoes. They think I always follow the rules because my mom is a pastor. I do think rules are important, but I don’t think I’m a goody two-shoes. I want to play football just like the other guys. That’ll show them I’m no angel.

  In middle school football, we wear real eye-black.

  We wear shoulder pads and helmets.

  We wear jockstraps and real cleats. Not sneakers.

  We drink out of orange coolers.

  We hit each other on the butt.

  We grunt.

  We have spaghetti dinners.

  We call each other by our last names.

  We don’t cry when we get hurt (unless we get really really hurt). We are the real deal. We are the big time. Almost pro.

  I want to be quarterback. There’s only one problem with that plan: Digby Praxton. He wants to be quarterback, too. And Digby is super fast. He has a strong arm. And people like him and listen to him. No one listens to me. I’m not sure they even know my name. But I want to change all that.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Charley Pickle holds an MFA and is a published poet and short fiction author.

  In sixth grade, Pickle wore a historically accurate Shakespeare costume to school on Halloween. Sadly, no one else dressed up. Feeling rather pathetic, Pickle quickly changed into inspirational Shaquille O'Neal gym clothes.

  Charley Pickle definitely knows what it's like to be a weirdo and often seeks weirdo friends, as they usually have tremendously good senses of humor. Pickle can be found on Twitter at @charley_pickle.