The Great Wall of Lucy Wu

by Wendy Wan-Long Shang

  “Okay,” I said. “But only if I get some of your mom’s fried chicken on a different day.” Mrs. Jameson’s chicken is so yummy you could just eat the crispy part and be happy.

  When Madison came over for dinner, she threw her jacket on a chair and headed for the kitchen. “Let’s find out what she’s making.”

  I followed Madison into the kitchen. Yi Po was inside making dumplings.

  “Hi!” Madison chirped. Yi Po looked at her and smiled. Good luck with that, I thought, unless you suddenly know how to speak Chinese.

  Madison pretended to sniff the air and then rubbed her stomach. “Your food smells incredible!” she told Yi Po.

  Yi Po’s face lit up. She jumped out of her chair and went over to the stove. She spooned a dumpling out of a boiling pot of water into a little bowl and brought it over to Madison. She pointed to bottles of soy sauce and cider vinegar on the table, and Madison poured a little bit of each into her bowl.

  Madison took her first bite. “This is amazing!” she shouted. “Have you ever had her dumplings?” she asked me. I shrugged. How much could you do with a dumpling?

  “How do you say, this is really good?” asked Madison eagerly.

  “Umm … you can say, hao chi,” I said. “It means good to eat.”

  “Ho chee! Ho chee!” said Madison to Yi Po, pointing at her bowl with her fork. Even though my Chinese was not great, I could tell that Madison’s accent was much worse.

  Somehow, though, Yi Po understood what Madison was saying. She bobbed her head in a little bow and gave her a really big smile.

  When we sat down to dinner, even I had to admit that Yi Po’s dumplings were something special. Better than the dumplings Mom bought at the store, better than the ones at Panda Café. There were lots of different flavors in the filling — a little ginger, a little garlic, some sesame oil — and they all stood out and blended together in turns. Every bite left me wanting more.

  Kenny, of course, was in heaven. Even though everyone was pigging out on the dumplings, I think Kenny ate more than everyone else combined. By the end, Kenny was leaning way back in his chair because he was so full, but still struggling to reach the ladle so he could have one more serving.

  Madison nudged me. “Do you think your aunt would make these dumplings for our birthday party?”

  Dumplings at a birthday party? No one had dumplings at a birthday party. You had pizza or hot dogs or tacos. Not dumplings.

  “Do you think anyone will like them?” I asked doubtfully. I could just see it now — everyone wrinkling their faces at the dumplings and wishing they had pizza.

  “How could anyone not love these dumplings? They are so delicious, and we can always order a pizza if someone has a fit,” insisted Madison. “C’mon, ask her. Puh-leeeze?”

  It was hard to say no when Madison looked so excited. And the party was at her house, again, so I felt like I owed her one.

  “Um … Yi Po …” I began. Everyone else at the table stopped talking. I felt my cheeks start to burn. Yi Po stared at me.

  “Wo men yao,” I gulped awkwardly, pointing at Madison and myself, “shui jiao …” I was amazed I actually remembered the word for boiled dumpling — shui jiao. Now how did I say party?

  Yi Po narrowed her eyes. Then she put her hands to one side of her head and closed her eyes. “Shui jiao?”

  What did I do now? I looked helplessly at Mom and Dad. “I’m trying to ask Yi Po if she would make dumplings for our birthday party.”

  Mom smiled. “That was a nice try, Lucy. But you just told Yi Po that you and Madison wanted to sleep. Remember, dumpling uses third tone — shui jiao.” Her voice glided up and down the words like a child on a swing. “Sleep is fourth tone.” She repeated the words, but this time, her pronunciation changed to a sharper, downward ending.

  I could hear the difference, but it seemed like every time I tried to say them, it came out wrong. My brain and tongue did not connect.

  Mom leaned over and asked Yi Po if she would make dumplings for our birthday party. Yi Po looked at me and Madison, and nodded vigorously.

  Madison squealed. “Thank you! Thank you! This is so awesome,” she told Yi Po. Madison put her hand up and Yi Po reached up and slapped it. They both laughed. Great. Even my non-Chinese-speaking best friend could communicate with Yi Po better than I could.

  A few days later I came home from school and the house was completely silent. No crackling radio, no fwap-fwapping slippers, nothing. Even Kenny wasn’t around, performing his usual search-and-destroy mission on the refrigerator.

  Aaaaah. I slipped my backpack from my shoulders, kicked off my shoes, and began to wander around the house. I hadn’t had the house to myself in forever. I flipped on the TV and searched the pantry until I had found a snack-size bag of BBQ potato chips and an orange soda.

  I settled into the beanbag chair and waited for one of my favorite decorating programs to come on, Room for Improvement. It’s one of my favorite shows because they make all the changes for less than $500.

  When Room for Improvement finished, I drained my soda and tossed the can into the recycling bin. It was 4:30 and Yi Po still wasn’t home. Then I heard the door open.

  I poked my head around the corner to see if it was her. It was Kenny instead. “Hey, Lucy, what’s up?” Kenny strolled into the kitchen and grabbed a jar of peanuts.

  “Yi Po wasn’t here when I came home from school. Do you think we should be worried?” I asked him.

  Kenny flipped a peanut into the air and caught it in his mouth. “Why? Do you think she was kidnapped?”

  “No … but where could she have gone?”

  Kenny shrugged. “Beats me. I wouldn’t worry about it, though. How much trouble could she get into around here?” He tossed another peanut into his mouth.

  An uneasy feeling filled my stomach — the same feeling that I got when Dad prepared to go on one of his business trips. Maybe she got into a lot of trouble. Maybe she wandered outside and got hit by a car. Maybe she’s in the hospital and no one knows how to help her. Maybe she’s lost and can’t read the signs.

  I reached for the phone. “I think I’ll call Mom.”

  Before I could dial the numbers, though, the door opened again. It was Yi Po. A gust of wind blew the doorknob out of her hand. She quickly reached for the door and shut it.

  She saw Kenny and me, and waved. She looked really happy. Then she went upstairs and into the bathroom.

  My mind filled with questions. Why do you look so happy? What have you been doing? But I didn’t know how to ask.

  I asked Mom to find out where Yi Po went, but she was really busy with a project at work and forgot. I went to Dad after dinner.

  “Dad,” I said. “Yi Po went out somewhere today, and when she got home, she looked really happy. Where do you think she went?”

  Dad grinned. “She tried to find a girlfriend for Kenny!” he said mischievously. Daddy had been in such a good mood since Yi Po arrived. He was always making jokes or bringing home little desserts. I think it was the food Yi Po was cooking for him.

  That made me think of Harrison, and I blushed. “Be serious, Daddy,” I said. “Don’t you think we should be … you know … worried?”

  Dad shook his head. “The women in your mother’s family are very capable, you know. If she’s happy, then I’m happy.”

  “But will you ask her where she went?” I persisted.

  “Why don’t you ask her, if it’s that important to you?”

  I shook my head. “I can’t. Even when I know how to say the words, I’m afraid I’m not going to say them right. You know, I could accidentally sound really rude or something. And, I probably wouldn’t understand the answer, either.”

  Dad put his arm around me. “I think you’re being a little hard on yourself, honey. Don’t worry about getting it perfect. Just try, okay?”

  I thought about the sleep/dumpling incident and sighed. I could just see all of our conversations becoming one giant misunderstanding.

/>   “Never mind,” I said.

  That night, I walked past the living room as Mom, Dad, and Kenny started settling in for what had become their semiregular evening chat with Yi Po. Mom would fix a tray of tea and peanuts and other Chinese snacks, and they would talk for hours. It was one of the few times Kenny actually wanted to hang out with grown-ups. I leaned against the doorway. A piece of tile was coming loose on the floor.

  “Hey, Lucy,” said Dad. “Come join us. Don’t be such a hermit.”

  I leaned against the doorway. “I’ve got a lot of homework.”

  “Since when do you care so much about homework? C’mon, stay for a few minutes.”

  I hesitated. “Okay — just a few.” I walked into the living room and took the chair closest to the door.

  Mom brought in the tray of drinks and snacks. Dad stretched out next to Kenny. “How are your Mathwhiz practices coming along?” Dad asked. Dad was so proud that Kenny was on the senior team, even though Kenny was only a sophomore.

  Kenny looked away. “Fine,” he said.

  Yi Po was straightening a stack of books on the coffee table. That was something she did that reminded me of my grandmother. Her hands were never still — like hummingbirds. They were always in motion — cooking, cleaning, gesturing, knitting.

  “She reminds me of Po Po when she does that,” I said to Kenny. Kenny nodded. Then he said to Yi Po, in Chinese, Do you remember her at all? You were so little when she left.

  Yi Po finished straightening the books and looked at Kenny. I remember that we had three toys — a doll, a ball and — she said a word I didn’t know and twirled her index finger down, like a drill. She might have said spinning top. She suddenly scooped up the imaginary toys and held them greedily to her body. She laughed, and suddenly I could see her as a little girl, wanting all three toys for herself.

  Yi Po said something else, and pantomimed giving someone a piggyback ride. I looked at Mom. Mom said, “She said that their mother used to carry Po Po to school on her back.” Yi Po looked at me and pointed to her foot. Mom added, “Shoes back then were probably very delicate, handmade, you know. Very expensive. They wouldn’t be able to stand up to daily walks over rocks and dirt roads.”

  I thought of our front hallway, piled with shoes — boots, sneakers, dress-up shoes, sandals. I thought about how I just wanted a pair of shoes at Kicks, even if I didn’t need them.

  Every morning, I was so mad that my sister went to school. I would cry. My aunt scolded me. Yi Po’s expression transformed into that of the frustrated aunt, and she wagged her finger at an imaginary child. Then she said something else.

  “What did she say?” I asked. No one said anything for a moment.

  Dad looked pained. “They told her not to bother to cry, because no one cared about the tears of a girl.”

  Something inside me burned. I had known that in the old days, Chinese families favored boys and some still did, but who would say something so mean to a little kid? Then I remembered that this was the family Yi Po had been left with.

  Do you remember anything else? asked Kenny.

  Yi Po tilted her head to one side, thinking. When she left I felt very — she said a word I hadn’t heard before, but I knew. Her eyes had lost their usual brightness.

  When she left I felt very sad.

  I stood up. “I have homework,” I said quickly, and left the room before any more of her words would dig into me. For all those times I didn’t understand what Yi Po was saying, this time I understood all too well.

  Even after two years, there were times when my grandmother’s death felt like a fresh cut. I missed her so much. If I could, I would have told Yi Po I felt the same, but all I had were clunky nouns and adjectives, and everyday phrases. Red cup! Big desk! Let’s eat! I needed the small, delicate words that said: I know how you feel. I miss her, too. She was special. She was irreplaceable.

  Before I went to bed that night, I thought of one thing I could do. I took my favorite picture of my grandmother, the one I had kept hidden in my bookcase, and put it on top of the wall. Facing her side.

  Halloween arrived and it was an incredibly busy day. I had to go to basketball practice and Chinese school, and on top of that, I still had to get my costume ready. I was going as an order of French fries. I had taped together some sheets of red poster board for the box, but I still had to cut up some foam rubber for the fries. If you don’t have a good costume when you’re an older kid, you usually don’t get as much candy and the adults give you dirty looks. You have to show that you’re in the spirit of things.

  Fifteen minutes before I was supposed to be at Madison’s house, I finally lugged all my stuff downstairs to the front door. Even though Madison didn’t live far away, Mom was going to give me a ride, since we had to bring the dumplings.

  I ran over to the freezer to get out the dumplings. Mom and Yi Po had made them a few days ago and frozen them in plastic bags.

  In the freezer there was one bag of dumplings.

  “Mooooommm!” I yelled. “Where are the rest of the dumplings?”

  “They’re all together!” Mom yelled back. “They’re all in the freezer together!”

  I looked again. Two cartons of ice cream. A bag of peas. Mystery roast. Pizza. Four cans of frozen orange juice.

  One bag of dumplings.

  “I think we’re going to go hungry if these are all the dumplings,” I told Mom as she came into the kitchen.

  Mom looked through the freezer herself, digging all the way to the back like an arctic explorer. No more dumplings.

  She pulled her head out of the freezer and shouted one word. “KENNNNNYYY!”

  Apparently Kenny had been helping himself to a nightly snack of dumplings when everyone else had been asleep. In his usual state of cluelessness, it never quite occurred to him that the dumplings had been for the party.

  “What are we going to do?” I asked. “Order pizza?” I tried to sound disappointed, but truthfully, I was relieved. I liked the dumplings, and Madison liked the dumplings, but that didn’t mean anyone else would like the dumplings.

  Mom scratched her arm. “Well … that does seem to be the …” but before she could finish her sentence, Yi Po butted in.

  We can do it! she said to Mom. She said some other things, but the only part I understood was, Let’s go to the store now!

  I held my breath, waiting for Mom to respond with something like, No, no, it’s too much trouble. But that’s not what she said.

  “Yi Po says we cannot disappoint you or Madison. We’ll drop you off at Madison’s house on the way to the store,” said Mom briskly. “Start loading the car.”

  I chewed on my lip. I knew she was trying to be nice, but Yi Po was messing up my party — again.

  I got to Madison’s house ten minutes before the party started. Talent was already there.

  “Um … hi, Talent,” I said slowly. “Aren’t you a little early?”

  Talent had no clue that coming early to a party was not exactly the best idea in the world. “I made my mom bring me here straight from the mall, where I bought jeans! Look!”

  This was probably the closest that Talent had ever come to looking like a normal person. She even had a T-shirt on. It had a picture of two cartoon kittens dancing under a rainbow.

  “How long has she been here?” I asked Madison under my breath.

  “Fifteen minutes,” Madison whispered back. “But she’s been really helpful.”

  I told her the news. “Kenny ate most of the dumplings that Mom and Yi Po made, but they’re going to the store so they can make more.” Then I paused. “Do you think we should order pizza? Just in case?”

  “Nah,” said Madison. “Look, we’ve got tons of chips and stuff if people are hungry.” Then she whipped out a present. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

  I ran my fingers over the smooth wrapping paper. I love that moment right before the paper comes off, when the package is so pretty and there could be anything inside.

  “Open
it,” urged Madison. “Then you can wear it for the party.”

  Madison’s really good at picking out gifts that really match the person. Judging from the size of the box, it had to be jewelry. I tore off the paper and lifted the lid. Inside was a Chinese character on a silk cord. Huh?

  “Like it?” Madison took it out of the box to tie around my neck. “I got myself one, too.” Madison knew what it said and I didn’t. Great.

  Talent saved me. She pushed between us to get a look. “Oh! Hu — lao hu — tiger. I guess that’s your zodiac sign, huh? I’m a rabbit.”

  I nodded numbly, trying to look happy instead of how I felt, which was stupid and irritated. What was up with Madison? First the dumplings, now the necklace. It was like she was trying to be Chinese.

  “Here,” I said, trying to cover up my disappointment. “It’s your birthday, too.” I handed her the present I had picked out for her — a T-shirt that said Eat, Sleep, Shoot Hoops.

  By the time Mom and Yi Po got back to Madison’s house, half of the people had arrived. Mom and Yi Po didn’t bring in dumplings, though — they brought in grocery bag after grocery bag of ingredients for dumplings.

  “I thought you were just going to make some more dumplings and drop them off,” I said to Mom. I didn’t want Yi Po hanging around the party, especially after the way Gabi and Ariana had made fun of Yi Po at the mall. Mom gave me a look. “Lucy, the grocery store was packed, and it does take a while to make all the dumplings. We’ll work as fast as we can, but it’ll be faster if we make them here, rather than try to make them at home and then bring them here.”

  I looked over at Madison and rolled my eyes. Madison shook her head to say, No big deal.

  It was a big deal, though. The whole party was becoming a mess wrapped in a disaster covered in a mistake. Yi Po and Mom were here. Talent was hanging out by herself, looking awkward and out of place, now that she didn’t have Madison and me to herself. My present from my best friend had been a bust. And we were having dumplings.

  Mrs. Jameson cleared off the kitchen table. Mom and Yi Po laid out the supplies — garlic, ginger, sesame oil, soy sauce, cider vinegar, Chinese chives, ground pork, and dumpling wrappers. Packages and packages of dumpling wrappers.