by Jessica Kim
“Okay,” Jasmine says, “I’ll give you a minute to decide your roles.”
Sienna wants to do angry, Felipe takes hungry, and I’m left with scared. Which is appropriate, because that’s precisely what I am.
Too soon, Jasmine cues, “Action!”
Felipe starts us off. He taps Sienna on the shoulder. “Mom, are we there yet?” he whines, resting his chin on his fist.
Sienna’s face scrunches, and magically she transforms into a Texan mom with a serious mean streak. She roars, “Yes, and I told you a million times! Quit your bellyaching.” She grabs ahold of her hat like a steering wheel. “Or I’ll throw your complaining little heinie out the window!”
A tittering of laughter comes from the audience.
Then Felipe grabs his midsection and moans from the chair behind her. “But, Mooooom, we’ve been driving for eighty-two hours straight. I’m so hungry, I’m going to faint.” He drapes his hand over his forehead and wobbles a bit before his body goes limp, sliding to the ground in a puddle.
A few people laugh.
Is he done? My chest pounds like there’s a woodpecker in there. Should I go now? Is it my turn?
Felipe and Sienna are looking at me. Yes. It’s definitely my turn.
Just like yesterday, I try to access my inner Kay, but for some reason it isn’t working. I can’t think of anything! This is not how it’s supposed to go. I feel like puking.
If I don’t say something now, I’m going to have a full-fledged panic attack in front of everyone.
Clasping my hands over my eyes, I come up with the most obvious unfunny thing ever.
“Yes, and, uh, I’m scared,” I utter in a near whisper.
It’s deathly quiet.
I peek between my fingers to see everyone staring back at me. Oh shoot, they’re waiting for the punch line.
I knock my heels together in hopes, by some stroke of magic, that I’ll be teleported home like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. But nope, I’m still here. And everyone is still waiting.
Finally, Jasmine Jasper claps, and the campers get the hint and join her. “Okay, so remember this improv activity is all about creating a story together.” She shoots us a strained look. “I gotta be honest. I didn’t see that happening here.”
Dang, I thought only my Korean aunties dropped truth bombs like that.
“She does not play around,” Felipe mutters to us.
“Listen, you can’t simply go down the line, each person saying one bit after another. That’s not a story. Improv isn’t about hogging the attention. It’s about give and take. You’ve got to work together to find the humor as a group.” Jasmine catches my eye. “Don’t overthink it by trying to be clever. I want you to listen and react to each other. It’ll be funnier if you let go and take a risk.”
Has she been talking to Mrs. Pak or something?
Then she says the worst imaginable thing. “I want you to try it one more time.”
I groan inside as we take our positions on the stage.
Before Jasmine Jasper can cue us, the campers break out into the Encouragement Chant. “You can do it.” Clap. “You can do it.” Clap-clap. “We believe in you.”
This chant is corny, but oddly, it makes me smile. I take a deep breath, and it flushes out my million worries. I inhale and focus on being laid-back and cool, like Kay.
The only failure is not trying.
The only failure is not trying.
Breathe. Breathe.
Sienna catches my eye and mouths, “You got this.”
“Action!”
Felipe starts us off by tapping Sienna on the shoulder. “Are we going to exit anytime soon, because lunch was a while ago . . .” He rubs his tummy in circles. “I feel like if I don’t eat soon, I’m going to turn—uh, to the dark side.”
Sienna’s eyes light up, and she pulls her beret down over her face and breathes heavily. “Luke, if you do not stop complaining, I will have no choice but to use the Force on you,” she bellows like Darth Vader.
There’s an eruption of surprised laughter.
Felipe scowls, feeding off of her energy. “I’m just so hungry! I’m so hungry I could eat a Wookiee right now.”
Oooh, I’ve got something.
I crouch in my seat, my eyes darting wildly, and let out my very best Chewbacca roar.
“WAGRRRRWWGAHHHHWWWRRGGAWWWWWWRR!”
Then I clutch the red velvet curtain off to the side and hide under it like it’s a blanket.
“Cut!” Jasmine Jasper shouts while applauding. “Now, that’s much better. Good teamwork this time.”
We walk offstage feeling ten feet tall.
* * *
• • •
During our snack break, Felipe, Sienna, and I are in the lobby doing a play-by-play recap of our sketch, reliving our performance like it happened twenty years ago.
“And then Kay grabs the curtain”—Felipe fights to get the words out between laughs—“and hides under it.”
Sienna’s slapping her thigh. “That was . . .” She wipes the corner of her eye with one finger. “Peak hilarity.”
“So was your Darth Vader voice,” I say. “I will have no choice but to use the Force on you.” I mimic her in the deepest voice I can, which turns out not to be very deep at all.
“Kay, you sound like a whale,” she says.
“I doooooooooo?” I say in my best whale vocalization. It feels good to make her laugh.
Sienna nudges me with her elbow. “Forget Star Wars, you should audition for the next Finding Nemo movie.”
“Hey, speaking of auditions,” Felipe says, taking out his vintage Avengers lunch tin. “My mom told me about PAMS.”
“PAMS?” I ask. “That spray stuff in the can? The better butter substitute?”
“No, you goof.” Sienna shines her apple on her tie-dye shirt. “It’s this new junior high they’re opening a few blocks from here. It stands for Performing Arts Magnet School.”
“Performing Arts?”
“Yup, and get this.” Felipe tilts his chin. “The school is going to have a comedy department. First of its kind in Los Angeles.”
Hang on, what? “A comedy department at a junior high school? Is that a thing?”
“Yes, they’re going to get professional comedians to teach guest workshops.” Sienna bites into her apple.
“Cool, right?” Felipe spears his fork into a mango slice sprinkled with chili powder. “Sienna’s mom told my mom all about the auditions at pickup yesterday. She said she’s on the board for the school.” He elbows her. “How come you never told me your parents are famous Hollywood big shots?”
She shrugs.
“They are? That’s so cool! What do your parents do?” I ask.
She says quietly, “They’re filmmakers.”
Felipe is indignant. “Uh. Why are you selling them short? They’re the masterminds behind the entire Dark Squad franchise!”
My jaw drops. Dark Squad II caused me to sleep with a night-light for a solid month.
“Your parents are so freaking cool.”
While Sienna’s parents made Dark Squad I, II, and III, my parents make lunch combos I, II, and III. Life is so unfair.
“So what’s it like having them as your parents?” Felipe’s eyes bulge with curiosity.
She picks at the stem of her apple. “I don’t know. They’re . . . unconventional.”
“Is it true that they don’t believe in homework and let you decide if you want to go to school or not?” Felipe asks. “They said that in an interview once.”
“Kind of. They think school can kill creativity, but I actually like homework and school.” She clears her throat. “Anyway, back to PAMS. Are you going to audition?”
“I think so.” Felipe nibbles on a mango slice.
Sienna nearly co
ughs up her apple. “Really?” she squeals. “Really, really?”
“Yup, my parents were totally into it. They can’t stop talking about how I’m going to be a Mexican Conan,” he says, busting out Conan’s signature String Dance.
Sienna joins in on the dance. “I can’t believe we might be going to the same school! This is the best news ever!”
Lucky.
Then Sienna turns to me. “Now you have to audition, too, Kay.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.” Sienna slings her arms across our shoulders. “How fun would it be if the three of us went to PAMS together? All you have to do is fill out the registration, get some recommendations, and show up for the audition. August eighteenth.”
If only I could.
“I don’t know, guys,” I say, with hesitation.
“Think about it. We can hang out every day and take classes together.” Sienna gets more and more animated, her hair and hands flying in every direction. “It won’t be the same without you.”
My heart skips a beat. This is the first time in a long time I’ve felt like I actually belong in a friend group.
“You need to apply,” Sienna says. “Doesn’t it sound perfect?”
I pause.
It does.
Going to PAMS would be a dream come true. Hanging out with Felipe and Sienna every day, doing comedy, meeting real comics. Not setting foot in Winston’s stuffy old halls again. What more could I ask for?
“Well, what’s holding you back, then?”
Fear.
Felipe fishes his phone from his pocket. “Here, I’ll text you the link to the website so you can check it out with your parents.”
Parents. I sigh deeply.
How am I supposed to get Mom and Dad on board?
As we’re exchanging numbers, the challenge looms heavy on my mind. It’s going to be hard to convince my parents. Nearly impossible, even. But unlike before, I’m determined to make this work. I just have to.
CHAPTER 10
Now that we’ve closed the restaurant and almost everyone else has gone home, Manuel and I take a break in the back office.
“Dinner service kicked our butts tonight.” I hand him his favorite soda, Cuzcâtlan cola champagne, from the mini fridge. We didn’t even have that many customers, but we were short-staffed again with the line cook out sick, so I had to fill in in the kitchen. While Mom and Dad took care of the front of the house, Manuel and I scrambled around, splitting our time cooking and cleaning. Needless to say, we got the slam.
“We survived, though. Didn’t we?” Manuel gulps down his drink and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
I grab my Super-Secret Comedy Notebook from the desk. “This reminds me of a joke.”
My superpower is invisibility. I’m still figuring out how to activate it. So far, the only time I can get it to work is when I’m around boys I like or when we pick teams for PE class.
He laughs. “You gotta keep this stuff for when you’re big time and selling out the Staples Center.” He tosses his empty bottle in the recycle bin. “You know, I sense something different about you . . .”
“About me?”
He rubs his chin and takes a long look at me. “You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?”
Pangs of paranoia surge through me.
“Yes. I’ve been practicing, I mean. By myself at home. Yep. As one does,” I say with a shaky laugh.
There’s no way he could possibly know about my forays to the Haha Club, is there?
He punches out his time card and looks at me the way I look at myself in the mirror after a bad perm.
I hold my breath. If Manuel knows, he’s totally going to tell Mom and Dad, and then I’ll be doomed.
But to my relief, he smiles. “It’s working. You’ve gotten better!”
Phew!
“Thanks for noticing.” I release the air from my lungs. It’s just my imagination on overdrive.
“Good job today in the kitchen.” He grabs his jacket and keys from the hook on the wall. “I gotta go get Sofia. Vaya pues, kid.”
It isn’t until I hear the door shut behind him that I relax. I have until Mom and Dad finish closing up to work on my bit. I turn back to my notebook and start underlining the parts that made Manuel laugh. Which, it turns out, was most of it. Not bad, Yumi Chung! Maybe I can use this one for the showcase or even the PAMS audition.
If I can convince my parents to let me audition in the first place.
Overwhelmed, I throw my head backward and spin in circles in the office chair until the room is one continuous blur. And then there’s that field trip to the nursing home coming up, too. How am I supposed to get them to say yes to any of this?
Everything is whirling, and I feel like I’m at the base of Mount Everest without a map. Or shoes.
I hear the door open and plant my foot on the ground to stop the chair.
The room is still spinning, but I make out my sister’s slender silhouette.
“Hey, Yooms.” She drops her purse on the empty chair.
I steady myself. “You’re here again?” I’m glad to see my sister, but it’s the third time this week she’s come to the restaurant. “Are you sure you’re still in med school?” I joke.
“Not funny.” She shoots me a look of death and sits at the computer.
What’s eating her? “So, why are you back here, anyway?”
“I came to talk to Mom and Dad.” Yuri pulls up the day’s point-of-service report from the accounting program and clicks through a few spreadsheets.
“About what?”
She points to the computer screen, ignoring my question. “These figures can’t be correct. Are you telling me that this is all the money we made this week?”
“I guess.”
“That’s terrible. If you consider the variable costs and fixed costs—” She stops to do the calculations in her head. “Our break-even point in dollars is $5,720.30 for this month.”
“So?” I hate it when she talks to me in genius and expects me to understand what the heck she’s saying.
“That’s abysmal.” She closes the financial report. “Enough about that.” She turns her attention back to me. “What’s going on with you? Any luck convincing Mom and Dad to send you to comedy camp?”
Guilt crashes down on me like a tsunami. I never lie to my sister. “Uh.” My mouth becomes dry. “N-nope. No luck there.”
I change the subject. “Have you ever noticed how Mrs. Pak always touches her hair with one hand before she Pak-attacks? Like this?” I’m in the middle of doing a dead ringer Mrs. Pak impersonation when Dad comes in.
“Yuri, I thought I heard your voice.”
“Dad. Yes, I came because I wanted to talk to you and Mom about something really—”
But Dad cuts her off.
“Yobo!” he shouts down the hall to Mom. “Our daughter is here.”
A half second later, Mom pops her head in.
“Yuri, did you eat?” It’s her multipurpose greeting. Kind of like “aloha.” It can mean “hello,” “goodbye,” “I love you,” “are you hungry?” or all of the above.
“I can heat up delicious kalguksu,” she offers. “I made it with the clam.”
No matter how beat Mom is after a grueling day at the restaurant, if she hears us utter the word hungry, the stove will be fired up in ten seconds flat.
Yuri shakes her head. “No, I’m fine.”
Mom scowls, wiping her hands on her apron. “You have to eat if you want to be a good student.” She grabs my sister’s twiggy arm and shakes it. “Lost too much weight. Cheeks are empty like a skeleton!”
I take a second glance at her. My sister’s always been on the petite side, but my mom’s right. She looks a little gaunt, and her collarbones are extra pointy through her silk tank top.<
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“I said I’m fine.” Yuri tugs at the hem of her cardigan, hiding her body.
“The boyfriend doesn’t like when girls are too skinny.” Mom gives Yuri a knowing look.
I swear, this secret boyfriend has become Mom’s favorite topic of conversation.
“What are you talking about?” Yuri says, incredulous.
I can’t tell if my sister is playing dumb or if she’s really clueless that we’re onto her. We’ve been onto her.
Dad interrupts. “Everybody, come here. I have something to show you.”
He shuttles us out to the main dining room and into one of the empty booths.
“Important family business,” he says.
“What is it?” Mom leans over and pounds her own shoulder with her fist, massaging the weariness from her back. After a fourteen-hour day on her feet, she doesn’t look too keen on listening to one of Dad’s little speeches.
Dad, however, is revved up and ready to go. “Listen, I have a plan to bring new business to our restaurant.” He shakes out some blueprints from a cardboard poster tube onto the table.
This ought to be good. Dad’s full of interesting ideas. Like the time he tried to solve our backyard rodent problem by hanging giant mobiles shaped like predatory birds he made out of Styrofoam. Only for them to be eaten by rats. Or the time I broke my arm and asked him to help me put my hair in a ponytail, and he secured it with a nylon cable zip tie that promptly slid right off. He’s got lots of hacks that work in theory, but not so much in the execution.
Dad spreads out the blueprints with his hands. “Koreatown is changing so much. If we want to stay in business, we have to make restaurant welcome for waygookin.”
“Waygookin” is Dad’s choice word for non-Koreans. But the actual translation is “foreigner.”
“All the popular new restaurants are the kind the waygookin like. With the young guys with the tattoo. Loud music.” He scratches his chin. “Maybe we need something new, too. Something hot. Then I figured it out.”
He jabs the blueprint with his pointer finger, which in his case is his middle finger. “Our restaurant is so big. Look at this! So much empty space. Too much waste!”