by Andrea Cheng
“A science fair group,” Mom says. She looks at us. “Can you girls explain your project to the nurse?”
I take a deep breath. “We were worried about Kaylee, because the doctor says maybe she’s not thriving. So we thought of a way to get her to eat more.”
The nurse sits down on the stool. Kaylee has stopped crying and is staring at the cats on the wallpaper.
“We decided to sing Kaylee songs while she eats,” Camille says.
“In English and Chinese,” Laura says.
The nurse is really listening. “Well, let’s see how Kaylee’s doing, and we’ll see if your songs did the trick,” he says.
Kaylee whimpers when we get her undressed, but at least she’s not screaming. When we sit her on the scale she reaches for me.
“Just a minute, Bao Bao.”
Mom turns away as the nurse watches the digital display.
“Twenty point three” He smiles. “Up almost one pound!”
“YES!” Laura and Camille and I shout at once.
I grab Kaylee off the scale and hug her. “You did it, Bao Bao. Hen hao! Very good!”
Kaylee makes a sound from deep in her throat.
“What was that?” Camille asks.
“She’s laughing,” I say.
When the doctor comes in, she is very pleased with Kaylee’s weight gain. “Much improved!” she says, patting Kaylee’s head.
“The girls want to tell you about their science fair project,” the nurse says.
I start by explaining how Camille thought Kaylee would eat more if we sang her songs. Camille tells about how doing this for the science fair was my idea. And Laura describes the steps with the bananas, hamburgers, and songs.
“You know, this is something other people might benefit from,” the doctor says. “We tend to worry so much that we forget things like songs and distraction as part of healing.” She stands to go. “Would you mind sending me a summary of your project when you’re done?” Then she shakes Mom’s hand. “And congratulations. I’ll see you back in two months.”
“Isn’t that a little long?” Mom asks.
“We can always reschedule if you have a concern. But I think two months will be just fine.” Then she turns to us. “I really do want to thank you girls,” she says. “You’ve reminded me that sometimes doctors forget that there is more to patients than numbers.” Kaylee is pointing to the wall. “Ca,” she says.
“I think she’s saying cat!” Camille says, pointing to the cats on the wallpaper.
“Cat,” Laura says very clearly.
“Ca,” Kaylee repeats.
“What a talker,” the doctor says.
On the way home, Mom stops in front of the ice cream store. “I think we need to celebrate!” she says, turning off the engine. “After all, it’s because of you three that Kaylee is doing better.”
“What flavor does Kaylee like?” Camille asks.
“I don’t know,” I say.
“We can each get a different flavor and let her try them,” Laura suggests.
Laura gets blackberry, Camille gets double chocolate, Mom gets peach, and I get pumpkin. Kaylee wrinkles her nose with blackberry and pumpkin. It seems she kind of likes peach. But with the double chocolate, she laughs. “Mo,” she says to Camille.
“What?” Camille asks.
Kaylee reaches for the cone. “Mo.”
“She wants more” I say, watching Kaylee’s mouth open like a little bird’s.
“Now your sister knows four words,” Laura says. “N, Bao Bao, cat, and more”
“And she learned two of them today!”
Twenty-One
Science and Sewing
At school the next day, Ms. Sylvester and Ms. Henry are at a conference, but the sub tells us to set the science fair boards up in the room because the teachers may come in over the weekend to review our work. Then she gives us time to go around and look at everyone’s boards.
David and Robert did their project about skateboard ramps. Their hypothesis was that the steeper the ramp, the faster you go, and the higher you can jump, which turned out to be true. Tai and Anthony did something to see if heavy backpacks make people shrink, and they don’t. Lucy and Allison’s hypothesis was that if you watered bulbs with colored water, the colors would go through the stems and into the flowers. They took lots of pictures of their flowers as they grew, and it turned out that the blue food coloring worked best, and the red second best. Their board is very pretty with drawings of bulbs and photos of plants around the border.
Lucy is looking at our board. “When I was a baby, my mom said I was a really picky eater.”
“Really?”
“The only thing I would eat was pears.”
“Did the doctor say you weren’t thriving?”
“I don’t think so.” Lucy goes on to look at the next board.
For a second I wonder if we hadn’t adopted Kaylee, if she were a biological sibling, then maybe the doctor wouldn’t have even worried about her weight.
After school, Camille says, “I’m kind of sad we’re done with the science fair. I like going to your house and singing songs to Kaylee.”
“Me, too,” Laura says.
“You guys can keep coming. And we can keep singing,” I say. “I don’t want Kaylee to stop eating just because our science fair project is done.”
“She might get tired of it,” Camille says.
“Maybe we can learn some new songs,” I say. “Can you call your mom and see if you can come over?”
Ken and his friends are up ahead. Laura, Camille, and I lock arms as we walk. “It smells like spring,” Laura says, taking a deep breath. “I can’t believe it’s not even February yet.”
“Look,” I say, pointing to green shoots sticking out of the ground. “I think those are daffodils.”
“And crocuses,” Laura says, pointing to small bright yellow flowers by the oak tree.
I unzip my jacket. “I’m actually hot.”
“We forgot to plant the buckeyes we collected,” Camille says. She turns to Laura. “Do you still have them?”
“I dumped them into a box. They’re probably somewhere in my room. I’ll check, and if I find them, I’ll bring them when I come.”
As soon as we open the door, we can smell Grandma’s soup.
Camille takes a deep sniff. “Chicken soup?”
“With long noodles,” Grandma says. “For a long life.” She gives us each a small bowl of soup and porcelain spoons.
“Did you girls remember that today is a holiday?”
I look at Camille. “Chinese New Year!” we say at the same time.
Grandma has four red envelopes for us with chocolate coins inside, one for Ken, one for Camille, one for Kaylee, and one for me.
“Thank you,” Camille says. “I can’t believe we almost forgot.”
“And Teacher Zhen even reminded us last Saturday.”
There is a knock at the door, and Laura is there. “My mom said the buckeyes got moldy so she threw them out. But I found this.” She holds up the cat fabric.
“Would you like some soup?” Grandma asks.
“Yes, please.” Grandma fills her bowl with hot broth and noodles. “I like these spoons.” Laura takes a spoonful of the soup, blows on it, and puts it into her mouth. “And I love the soup.”
“I have something else for you,” Grandma says, handing her a red envelope with her name on the flap.
Laura looks at the ceiling like she is trying to remember something. “Xin nian kuai le” she says slowly. Her tones are kind of flat, but we know she said “Happy New Year.”
“Xin nian kuai le to you too,” Grandma says.
Grandma helps us lay out the dress pattern pieces on the cat fabric. We cut carefully on the lines, then pin the pieces together and take turns sewing the seams.
“Hey, listen,” Camille says, stopping the sewing machine.
I hear Kaylee’s voice from down the hall. Her soft voice is going up and down. “She�
��s trying to sing the fruit song,” I say.
We go into Kaylee’s room and she’s sitting in her crib, playing with her toes and trying to sing “shui guo, shui guo, zhen hao chi” She sees us, smiles, and puts out her arms. “Up,” she says.
The dress is more complicated than we thought. The straps get a little bit bunchy and Grandma has to redo the yoke. But finally it’s finished and we try it on Kaylee.
“A little big,” Laura says.
“She’ll grow into it,” Grandma says.
“Now that she’s gaining weight,” Camille says.
“Look, Kaylee,” I say, pointing to her reflection in the mirror.
“See the cats?” Laura points to the print on the bib.
Kaylee stares at the cats for a minute. Then she turns around like she’s trying to dance. Camille thinks it’s the funniest thing she has ever seen. Soon the three of us are laughing so hard, we can hardly breathe. Kaylee looks at us as if to say What’s so funny?
Twenty-Two
Unexpected Visitors
When I wake up in the morning, my room is strangely bright. I look outside and snow is covering everything. I can’t believe we are having a snowstorm and it’s almost March. I bet Laura is sledding already. Then I remember, she’s probably at her dad’s.
Ken is trying to fit his feet into his boots, but he says they hurt.
“You can wear my old ones,” I say.
He rolls his eyes. “They’re pink.”
“Do you want to go out or not?”
He puts the pink boots on. I get my new green ones and my jacket, scarf, hat, and mittens. Finally we’re all set when Kaylee starts crying.
“She wants to go too,” Mom says.
Ken grabs my sleeve. “Come on.”
“It’ll just take a minute to get her ready,” I say.
“You two go out and I’ll bring Kaylee,” Mom says.
I follow my brother into the snow.
“Let’s make a snowman,” Ken says, starting with a small ball.
The snow is wet and sticks together. Ken makes the bottom ball and I make the other two. Together we stack them on top of each other. We use sweet gum balls for the eyes, acorns for the buttons, and sticks for the nose and arms.
Kaylee is so bundled up that she can hardly walk. At first she’s not happy about the snow on her boots and she tries to dust them off with her mittens. But then she sees the cat leaping around and forgets all about the snow.
Mom gets the camera and takes pictures of us three.
Finally my hands are frozen and Ken is hungry, so we go in.
“Ms. Sylvester called,” Dad says.
The blood rushes to my face. My teacher has never called our house before. “What did she want?”
“She said she was so impressed with your science project. She wants you to enter it in the city-wide competition.”
“So she called for that?”
“She asked if she and her husband could come over to talk to us. They might want to adopt a baby from China. And they’d like to ask us some questions,” Dad says.
I cannot imagine Ms. Sylvester with a Chinese baby. But then Salina in my Chinese class is Chinese but her parents aren’t, and Robert in my class is from Ethiopia but his mom and dad are from Norway.
“When are they coming?”
Mom and Grandma get busy making bao zi for Ms. and Mr. Sylvester, who will arrive in an hour.
“Maybe they don’t like Chinese food,” I say.
“If they’re going to China to adopt a baby, they might like to try it,” Mom says, handing me a circle of the floury dough. I squeeze it in my palm, put a little bean paste in the middle, and twist it shut.
I’ve never heard Ms. Sylvester’s voice so quiet. She almost doesn’t sound like herself. And she’s wearing blue jeans and a sweater instead of her usual skirts. First she says how much she enjoyed the science fair project that Camille and Laura and I did.
“Thank you,” I say. “It was Camille’s idea. I mean, to sing to Kaylee.”
“I’m sure the three of you worked together,” Ms. Sylvester says.
“How is the baby doing now?” Mr. Sylvester asks.
“Better.” Mom smiles.
“I saw in Anna’s conclusion that she gained almost a pound. That’s wonderful.”
Grandma brings out the steaming hot bao zi, and Mr. and Ms. Sylvester each take one.
“Fantastic,” Mr. Sylvester says, patting his belly, which is kind of large. “We’ll have to try making these at home. If you’ll give us a lesson, that is.”
Then Ms. Sylvester says they’ve been having some problems having a baby, and they’ve decided that they would like to adopt a girl from China. They ask Mom and Dad all about the process and how long it takes, how much it costs, and how to get started. “Did you like the orphanage where you got Kaylee?” Ms. Sylvester asks.
“We didn’t see the orphanage, but the babies seemed well taken care of,” Dad says.
Mom looks at her watch. “Anna, please check on Kaylee. She’s been asleep for a while.”
On my way up the stairs, I hear Kaylee. When I peek into the room, she is sitting up in her crib and talking to Maow Maow, who is crouched on the dresser. Both of them are looking at the sock mouse in Kaylee’s crib.
“Mine,” Kaylee says with her eyebrows pulled together.
The cat jumps off the dresser and follows us.
I carry Kaylee downstairs and set her on the floor. Mr. and Mrs. Sylvester cannot take their eyes off her. “She doesn’t look too thin to me,” Ms. Sylvester says. “I’d say she’s pretty near perfect,” Mr. Sylvester says. I sit on the floor next to Kaylee and smooth down her hair. I know nobody’s perfect, but I wouldn’t want my sister to be any different from exactly the way she is.
“She drools all the time,” Ken says.
“Only when she’s getting new teeth,” Mom says. Kaylee is talking to her mouse.
“Is she talking in Chinese?” Mr. Sylvester asks.
“Just baby talk,” Mom says.
“Was it difficult for her to adjust?” Mr. Sylvester asks. “I mean, her life must be so different here from in China.”
Mom looks at Dad. “It’s hard to tell with a baby.” Mr. Sylvester shakes his head. “Her birth parents must miss her.”
Mom looks down. “I think so.”
Dad gives the Sylvesters some websites to help them get started.
“Do you think we’ll be able to get our baby this summer?” Ms. Sylvester asks.
“I’m not sure,” Dad says. “I hear it’s taking longer to adopt babies these days.”
“We’d better get started then.” Mr. Sylvester takes a second bao zi.
Mom says it might be hard to do everything in China if you don’t speak Chinese. “Maybe I should go along to help,” she suggests.
“We wouldn’t want to impose on you,” Ms. Sylvester says.
“No problem,” Mom says. “Actually, I want to go back. I want to try to visit the orphanage. Now that I know Kaylee, I have so many questions.” Mom is quiet for a minute.
“Like what?” I ask.
“I wonder what her favorite foods were.”
“And her favorite songs,” I say.
“And there’s something else. I just really want to thank them for what they did for us,” Mom says.
I try to imagine Mom and me and Mr. and Ms. Sylvester in China. Suddenly I really want to know what it looks like and smells like and who the people are. “Can I go with you?” I ask.
Dad looks at Mom. “I don’t know, Anna. The tickets are very expensive.”
“Anna would be a big help to us,” Ms. Sylvester says.
“We can pay for the ticket,” Mr. Sylvester says. “Anna knows Chinese and knows about babies. What more could we want?”
“What about me?” Ken asks.
“We will play lots of gin rummy,” Grandma says. “And you can teach me to build with Legos.”
Suddenly the cat pounces on Kaylee’s mous
e. She pulls it away. The cat walks off like So what, I wasn’t trying to get it anyway. Ms. Sylvester laughs.
When Mr. and Ms. Sylvester get up to leave, they tell us that they have registered for Chinese classes.
“Where?” Mom asks.
“Over at the church on Spalding Road,” Ms. Sylvester says. “They have a beginner’s level.”
“That’s the same place we go,” I say. “Ken is in level two, and Camille and I are in level three.”
“You must speak very well,” Mr. Sylvester says.
“Is there a class for adults?” I ask.
Mr. Sylvester shakes his head. “We’ll be right in there with the kids. Good practice for being a parent, right?”
“Laura’s in that class,” I say. “Maybe she can help you.”
Grandma wraps up the four leftover bao zi and gives them to Ms. Sylvester. I pick Kaylee up to say goodbye. “Say bye-bye.”
Kaylee waves by moving her fingers. Then I notice that she is holding a bao zi in her other hand, and there is a small bite missing.
Steamed Red Bean Bao Zi
yields 16 buns
1 tablespoon (1 packet) active dry yeast
1 cup warm water, plus additional as needed
4 cups all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons granulated sugar, divided
1 teaspoon double-acting baking powder
1 teaspoon kosher salt
Filling: red bean paste (available at an Asian food store)
Materials needed: parchment paper, oil spray, towel, steamer