Love, Penelope
Page 9
Dear You,
Gabby and Hazel and I are so inspired. We keep practicing Curry’s behind-the-back fancy impossible dribble. Just because it’s fun. (But we still can’t do it.)
We have begun painting Hazel’s bedroom Petunia Pink. It is going quickly. There is still a faint smell of cigarette smoke.
Speaking of color, I read that your hair is white, like a little old man’s (or woman’s!). PIGMENT is a substance in the hair that gives it its color, and you don’t have any of that yet.
My hair is brown—the color of cocoa before you add water for hot chocolate. So is Mama’s. We have to wait and see about yours.
PIGMENT has nothing at all to do with pigs. Words are so weird.
Love,
Pen
A win tonight against the Blazers, 116–105!
Curry beat his three-point record from two years ago. A shoo-in for MOST VALUABLE PLAYER (MVP)!!!!!
SATURDAY, APRIL 11, 2015
Dear You,
Grandma Lorraine and Great-Grandma Grace love learning new words, just like I do. They told me that the language of the Chochenyo Ohlone is also called Chochenyo, and the modern-day Ohlone are relearning it in classes and from old recordings. It is so sad to think of a language dying. But it makes me feel hopeful to know that a language can be brought back to life by people wanting to remember it with all their hearts and souls.
They told me that "mele" means both grandmother and great-grandmother. They said I could call them that if I like, so I will.
Mele Grace: “Timli!” And she put some salmon on my plate.
Once I knew the salmon’s Chochenyo name, TIMLI, it tasted very special. Can a word really make a difference?
But it could also be because Mele Grace only buys salmon born in the river, and she smokes manzanita branches on her barbecue for flavor, in the old way. There is a small manzanita bush on the hill behind their house. Mele Grace also pours hot water over the manzanita berries to make tea and makes a manzanita berry juice for salad dressing.
I asked Mele Grace and Mele Lorraine if they made acorn flour from acorns gathered from the California oak tree on their front lawn. They giggled at that question.
Mele Lorraine: “Who has the time?”
As I said, the early Ohlone women spent days and days making their flour. I just thought I’d ask anyway.
Mele Lorraine and Mele Grace didn’t gather the lettuces and mushrooms for our salad from the wild either. They buy those at Berkeley Bowl. But Mele Grace made the manzanita salad dressing. And we sipped delicious hot manzanita tea while we watched the game tonight.
We beat Minnesota 110–101. Mele Lorraine and Mele Grace thought it was terrific that we won, but I told them the Dubs are usually much sharper.
When Mama and Sammy came to pick me up, Mele Lorraine said she would make acorn flour from scratch with me. She has friends who do that in the autumn, when the acorns are in season in the woods. I am looking forward to that.
Mama and Sammy can’t believe my “incredible enthusiasm” for learning the Ohlone ways. I am surprised to write this, but I am quite enthusiastic about giving my presentation. It’s going to be a good one, and I have important things to say.
Love,
Me
SUNDAY, APRIL 12, 2015
Dear You,
Happy Andrew Bogut Day once again.
We are almost finished painting Hazel’s room. No more cigarette smell, unless you stand very still and sniff like an experienced Ohlone from long ago. Or maybe what I’m smelling is just a bad memory.
Petunia Pink looks prettier than it sounds.
Love,
Pen
MONDAY, APRIL 13, 2015
Dear You,
Back to school today. Same old stuff.
Except that something happened that is worrying me a bit.
More than a bit.
I am upset, actually.
Mr. Chen had that look on his face that all teachers have after breaks from their classrooms. Rested and happy. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell whether the teachers are happy to see us or if they are just thinking happy thoughts about their fun vacations. Probably both. And they usually have new clothes and shoes from all that extra time they have had to shop. Here is Mr. Chen’s new tie:
But here is what is upsetting me:
Rested and happy, Mr. Chen said he’d had a brainstorm over the break.
Mr. Chen: “I am looking forward to hearing your presentations about your heritages in June. But my colleagues and I think the younger students will also benefit from them. They will have similar heritage projects as they advance through the upper grades.”
Mr. Chen: “I will invite other interested classrooms, as well as Mrs. Solomon and her office staff!”
Mrs. Solomon is the SCHOOL PRINCIPAL, You!
But there was more.
Mr. Chen: “And, of course, you can invite any of your parents who are able to attend. Then, after the presentations, we will have that rip-roaring party I promised you, with your heritage dishes and some carefully chosen junk food. Grand Presentation Day will be on June 10.”
“YAY!” shouted the whole class, except me.
Tonight, the Dubs beat the Grizzlies, 111–107. Klay Thompson scored an amazing forty-two points. I didn’t think about my worries during the game, but then I remembered as soon as the game was over.
What if other parents mention their own invitations to Mama and Sammy? What do I tell them? I don’t want them there to hear my false presentation!
But I DO want them there. I am heartbroken at the thought of giving my presentation without them in the audience. I would feel like an orphan.
I don’t know what to do. I am in a terrible quandary. QUANDARY is another word I have always wanted to use, but certainly not for a personal reason.
Love,
Penny
TUESDAY, APRIL 14, 2015
Dear You,
Presenting today’s installment of:
SECRETS OF THE SECRET STAIRWAY (SOSS) THE SAD, SCARED, AND SIBLING EDITION
HAZEL’S SECRET:
Rick has put an ad in Craigslist for Nell’s adoption.
Hazel is trying very hard to sabotage his plans. She answered Rick’s cell a few times and informed the callers that Nell had already been given away.
Also, she quietly tells interested people who come to meet the goat that Nell has a terrible bowel problem, as well as chronic indigestion. Nell’s burps smell like rotten eggs, she says.
Nell is such a beautiful, healthy animal! If Nell was a human being, Hazel’s lies about her would be SLANDEROUS. But we all agree that the slanderous lies are for a protective, ethical reason.
GABBY’S SECRET:
Gabby said that sometimes she gets so angry with Angel, she wishes she didn’t have a little sister. Sometimes, not always.
"I feel sorry for you," I said, "having a little sister who is a pest and no angel." I told her I hope I don’t feel that way about my new sibling, and I probably won’t.
Gabby laughed when I said this.
Gabby: “How do you know your new sibling won’t be a pest? Most younger siblings are.”
“I just know,” I said.
“We’ll see,” said Gabby. And we sort of agreed to disagree.
MY SECRET:
It helped to talk about my quandary. Hazel and Gabby had some advice.
Gabby: “If your parents find out about the Grand Presentation Day, you can always stay home with the flu, and they’d never find out what you were going to talk about.”
Hazel: “But even if they aren’t there, I think you have some important information to share with your audience. The presentation must go on.”
I did feel better. And I don’t really have to worry about it for a while.
COUNTDOWN TO AUDITORIUM PRESENTATION: Fifty-eight days.
Love,
Penny
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 15, 2015
Dear You,
We keep checking our baske
tball list on the bulletin board. Some days, we don’t check because we figure nothing has changed. And nothing has. Our names are still on them, and also that girl Candy, and the crossed-out fake names. Not even any new fake names, lately.
ADMISSION: I even miss finding fake names.
It is a sad fact, but nobody looks at old announcements and ads after a while. I see them on bulletin boards at the supermarket all the time, torn and faded. All those lost dogs or cats or birds! Are they ever found?
Love,
Penelope
THURSDAY, APRIL 16, 2015
Dear You,
We beat Hazel’s old team, the Nuggets, last night, 133–126. Klay Thompson scored twenty-five points!
Hazel felt she had to remind us again that she’s a Dubs fan now, through and through. Don’t worry, we told her, we know, we know.
We are so grateful that we have basketball to take our minds off our worries about goats, fabrications, pesty sisters, and bruised hearts. The games really help with life’s bittersweetness.
So did you hear me shrieking, You? Dubs fans are big shriekers.
Uncle Ziggy said that coaches from other teams have complained that the “decibel level” in Oracle Arena probably isn’t legal.
Sour grapes, I say!
The regular season is over.
NOW LET THE PLAYOFFS BEGIN!
We are marching to victory, You!
TUESDAY, APRIL 21, 2015
Dear You,
Something bad happened, but I don’t feel like writing about it now.
Love,
Penny
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 22, 2015
Dear You,
Don’t feel like writing today.
Love,
Pen
FRIDAY, APRIL 24, 2015
Dear You,
I am still here. I will write tomorrow.
xxx, Penny
SATURDAY, APRIL 25, 2015
Dear You,
Something bad has happened.
It has been a while since I’ve written, You.
Each time I picked up my pencil, I chewed on it for a long time. Then I ended up not writing anything at all.
Because something bad has happened.
It is not about basketball or my project in case you are wondering. It is not about Mike maybe having a girlfriend, even though that’s not a maybe anymore.
Of course, you are not wondering, but tonight the Dubs beat the Pelicans on the Pelicans’ home court, for their fourth straight win, to win the series. But even the games can’t help me take my mind off this.
Because what happened last week is mostly what I’m thinking about. I can’t stop thinking about it.
Mama and Sammy keep saying I should write about it. They said maybe writing will help.
Maybe tomorrow.
Showers today. The day felt teary, like me.
Love,
Pen
SUNDAY, APRIL 26, 2015
Dear You,
My memory of what happened is a giant black blur with big red flashes, but I will try.
It happened last Sunday, a whole week ago. It feels like yesterday.
Mike picked up Gabby and me from Hazel’s house in his father’s car. We had been putting the finishing touches on Hazel’s Petunia Pink bedroom. We needed Mike’s help because we had brushes and a drop cloth to carry back home and also it was getting dark.
Mike put everything in his trunk, even the empty paint cans, which he kindly said he would recycle for us.
A girl was sitting in the front passenger seat. Yes, Gabby was right. Mike has a girlfriend. Her name is Lee-Anne. She has long hair like ocean waves and she wears jangly gold bracelets and her perfume smells like peppermint and roses. She has very long legs and plays basketball in high school.
She calls Mike "Michael."
Michael looked so happy.
Gabby and I were quiet, because it was a new thing to be with Mike and a girlfriend. I was pondering the fact that a person is supposed to be happy when that person’s loved one is happy. But I wasn’t happy that Mike was happy, and did that mean I didn’t feel true love?
Of course, I’m digressing. I guess I don’t want to write about what came next.
My memory is not as big a blur as I thought.
I actually remember everything, now that I’m writing it down.
The sky was gray and pink. We had just turned off Park Boulevard, and Lee-Anne asked us all if we wanted some gum. Mike took a piece. Gabby and I both said no, thank you very much.
And Mike looked into his rearview mirror then and grinned at us, because we were so quiet and shy. I was still pondering whether my love was true, etcetera.
Then, all of a sudden, Mike’s happy eyes changed direction, and he was looking back, but not at us. And he said, very softly, “Uh-oh.”
The flashing red lights of the police car filled up our own car, even though the police car was in back of us. The siren went WHOOP!
Mike signaled and pulled over and stopped.
Lee-Anne: “Hands on the wheel, Michael. Remember, stay cool.”
The cop tapped on the window. Mike rolled it down. Then Mike put his hands back on the steering wheel.
Cop to Mike: “You were going pretty fast, kid. Get out of the car!”
Me: “Why?”
Gabby: “Shut up, Penny!”
She was whispering. She poked me in the ribs with her elbow, hard.
Mike got out of the car. He gave the cop his driver’s license. The cop made Mike face the car and put his hands on the roof. He patted him down. That is called FRISKING. Like a criminal.
He told Mike to spit out his gum. Right there on the street, like a litterer.
Mike is a good guy! I wanted to tell that cop. Mike catches spiders in his house very gently in tissues and shakes them free! That’s how good a guy he is!
Cop: “What are you kids doing speeding around this neighborhood at night?”
Mike: “Just going home, officer.”
Me: “We weren’t speeding!”
This time it was Lee-Anne: “Please be quiet, Penny.”
Then the cop told Mike to open the trunk, and he did.
Cop: “You kids doing graffiti with this paint?”
Mike: “No, sir. It’s for painting a bedroom.”
We could hear the cop thumping the paint cans around in the trunk and looking under the drop cloth.
Maybe he realized that Petunia Pink isn’t a good graffiti color, because he slammed the trunk door shut and went back to his cop car.
His radio crackled and spluttered and had a conversation with itself, and then he was back. He wrote out a speeding ticket and gave it to Mike.
Mike wasn’t speeding, You! I was a witness. But I didn’t say that out loud.
“Am I free to go, officer?” Mike asked.
Cop: “Yes. Watch your speed.”
Nobody spoke on the way home. They dropped me off.
The next day, Gabby told Hazel and me that Mike had been so proud of getting his driver’s license, but now he has a ticket for speeding, and that is called a moving violation, even though Mike didn’t violate a single thing. He will have to go to driver’s ed. And his dad’s car insurance will go up!
Gabby said Mike cried. He didn’t cry in front of Lee-Anne, of course. Only at home with his family.
And then Gabby said that when you are black, you don’t only learn how to signal and stop and parallel park. You learn to keep your hands on the wheel when you are stopped by a cop, especially a white cop. To be really calm. No twitchiness! To be as polite as can be.
Sometimes, you may have to say, “Officer, I know my rights.”
Or even, “Officer, please don’t shoot.”
I told Gabby not to exaggerate. I don’t know why I said that, because I do remember all those incidents on the news. I really do!
But I said it. It just popped out.
“Don’t exaggerate, Gabby.” I will never, ever forget that I said such a dumb thi
ng.
Maybe I didn’t want her to talk about bad things like that.
About RACISTS. Racists are people who don’t like other people because of the color of their skin.
Maybe I didn’t even want to believe it myself.
Gabby told me to grow up, and she started to cry right there in the schoolyard.
I wish I hadn’t said what I said to Gabby.
Things have felt shivery cold between me and her all week. I did say I was sorry once, but she didn’t answer. She is not talking to Hazel, either. I guess because Hazel just stood there and didn’t say a single word to her.
I should have said something else. I’m not sure what, but NOT that Gabby was exaggerating. Gabby never exaggerates. She always speaks the honest truth.
I am so sad, even though the Warriors had a playoff sweep against the Pelicans.
Love,
Penny
SAME DAY, AFTERNOON
Dear You,
There was a gigantic earthquake in Nepal. Mama and Sammy were crying when they heard about it on the news. Many people have died.
I phoned Gabby to talk to her, but her mom said she was busy.
I phoned Hazel. She said to come over. We will talk about what to do and maybe Nell can help.
How can Nell help? I wondered.
There was a terrible earthquake in Nepal, so I am ashamed to write this next sentence.
So I will write it very small.
IT WILL FEEL LIKE AN EARTHQUAKE IF I LOSE MY GOOD FRIEND!!!!!!
I told Mama and Sammy how ashamed I am to compare my friendship problems to a terrible earthquake.
Yes, Sammy said, it is all relative. But it is human and OK to feel sad about both things at once.
Love,
Pen
SAME DAY, NIGHT
Dear You,
What to Expect says you are beginning to take small practice breaths from your nose. I don’t think you can smell yet, but who is to say?
You will love Nell and love the way she smells, like I do. She does NOT smell like rotten eggs!