by Andrea Cheng
“I had . . .” Fan is thinking. “Lag jet,” she says.
Andee’s mother smiles. “Jet lag.”
“Yes, jet lag,” Fan repeats.
We have noodles for breakfast, and then Andee’s mom takes us to the Sylvesters’ to babysit for Jing.
“We are so happy that you could come to America,” Ms. Sylvester says, taking Fan’s hand. “You helped us so much in China. Thank you.” We play with Jing for a while. Then she gives me ten dollars and tells us to put the baby in the stroller and go buy ice cream to celebrate Fan’s arrival.
The air is warm and windy, as if it might rain. On the way, Fan looks around at everything. “America is quiet,” she says in Chinese.
“It is quiet here,” I say. “But big cities like New York are very noisy.”
Fan nods. “Here is like the countryside. When I was a little girl, I lived with my grandparents, and in the morning it was very quiet.” She smiles. “Except our rooster was noisy. My grandfather Gong Gong said that the rooster was talking to me.”
“Here there are no roosters,” I say.
When we get to Graeter’s Ice Cream Shop, I get chocolate almond, and Fan chooses peanut butter. I hold Jing up so she can see the flavors. She points to strawberry.
“I want to meet your family,” Fan says.
“Soon,” I say, looking at my watch.
On the way back to the Sylvesters’, we stop paying attention to Jing, and by the time we get there, she has ice cream all over her face, her shirt, and the stroller. Fan looks concerned. “Your teacher is not happy,” she says.
“It’s no problem,” I say. “We can wash everything.”
Ms. Sylvester takes a picture of Jing before we get her undressed and stick her into the bathtub. By the time Dad comes to get us, Jing is wearing clean red overall shorts and Fan has fixed her hair into three sticking-up ponytails that Jing loves.
“Just like my little brother,” Fan says when she meets Ken. She puts her hands to the sides of her head to show us that they both have big ears.
“Hey, my ears aren’t that big,” Ken says.
“Compared to mine they are.” I put my hair back to show him.
Mom says Camille called while we were at the Sylvesters’. They are back from Oklahoma, and her mother is bringing her over. Soon the three of us are playing cards in the living room.
In Chinese, Fan says Camille is very tall. “Not like most Chinese.”
“My father is tall,” Camille says in Chinese.
“You play basketball?” Fan asks.
Camille explains that she likes a lot of sports, especially volleyball and track.
“You can speak Chinese very well,” Fan says.
“I was actually born in China,” Camille explains. “But we moved to America when I was six.”
“I’m not good at Chinese or sports,” I say, switching to English.
“I thought you liked badminton,” Camille says.
Fan does not understand, so Camille translates.
Fan smiles. “I like badminton. We play this game a lot in China.”
We go down to the basement to find the rackets and the birdie. We don’t have a net, but Fan, Camille, Ken, and I hit the birdie around in the front yard, trying to see how many times we can rally before the birdie hits the ground. Fan is much better than the rest of us, and she doesn’t seem at all bothered by the heat. After a while, we sit in the shade of the apple tree in the front yard to take a break, and Laura walks by.
“This is Fan,” I say. “We met in China, and she’s going to spend the school year in America.”
Fan stands up and shakes Laura’s hand. Then Laura says she has to go to her mom’s office. “I’m helping her out this summer. But I hope to see you soon. Are you going to Fenwick High?”
Fan doesn’t understand, so I answer for her. “She’s a sophomore.”
After Laura leaves, Camille and I teach Fan the words freshman, sophomore, junior, and senior. She repeats them over and over again.
Mom has made stir-fried chicken and tofu, which Fan loves. She says the food in America tastes different from the food in China, but both are very good.
“Do you have pizza in China?” Ken asks.
Fan nods. “In Beijing, there is Pizza Hut.”
“Then I’m going,” Ken says, smiling.
After dinner, Fan yawns. “I am very tired,” she says.
Mom gives her a pillow and a light blanket. She lies down on the sofa and in about five minutes, she is asleep.
Camille and I go up to my room so we won’t disturb Fan. “How was Oklahoma?” I ask, grabbing a deck of cards off my dresser.
“Pretty good.” We sit close together on the oval rug, and I deal the cards. “My grandparents always spoil me. But I have bad news. My parents want me to go to Springer School next year.”
“You mean the school for kids with learning disabilities?”
Camille nods. “They said it’s just for a year.” Her voice breaks. “And then I can go back to Fenwick.”
I know I should comfort Camille. I should tell her that she’ll probably like Springer, and that a year will go by fast. But I can hardly hold back my tears. I helped Camille all last year and the year before, and she passed all her classes with B’s and C’s. And now I will be alone in the Fenwick cafeteria. I know people through CAT, but Andee and Sam have moved on to high school, and the rest of the kids aren’t really my friends.
“For sure?” I ask, finally.
Camille nods. “They already put down the deposit. I tried to tell my parents to let me stay at Fenwick one more year to see if I can bring my grades up.” Camille is tracing the braids of the rug. “But in Oklahoma, they had me tested, and I really . . .” Camille looks up. “It’s like there are wires crossed in my brain or something. I’m not like you, Anna. Before every little quiz I get really bad stomachaches. And when we have a new assignment, I can’t sleep all night.” She swallows. “No matter how much I study, I’m lucky if I get C’s on most of my tests.”
I feel the tears come to my eyes. I knew Camille was having a hard time with school. But it seemed to me as if she was always worrying for nothing. Maybe if I had helped her more . . .
“One year is not that long,” Camille whispers. “And we’ll be together every Saturday in Chinese school.”
In sixth grade, Laura switched to Our Lady of Angels. She said we would still see each other since we’re neighbors, and we do run into each other like we did today, but she has a lot of homework and new friends. When we do get together, sometimes it’s hard to know what to talk about. I know I should tell Camille that everything will be okay, that of course we will stay friends forever, but the lump in my throat is so big, I can hardly talk.
Camille shuffles the cards. “I made a calendar to count down the days until I can go back to Fenwick.”
“How many?”
“Three hundred and eighty,” she says.
I swallow hard.
“You’ll probably be really busy with Fan,” Camille says finally.
“She’s staying with Andee.”
“I know, but still.”
We are quiet then, with only the noise of the fan to fill up the space.
Chapter Six
School
At four thirty in the morning, I hear Mom leave for work. I try to go back to sleep, but after tossing and turning for half an hour, I decide to get up. I was planning to wear my new yellow T-shirt to school on the first day, but in the near dark it looks too bright. I take the old gray one out of my drawer, get dressed, and go down to the kitchen.
Mom always wants us to eat a good breakfast, but after three bites of dry cereal, I can’t eat any more. What will I do at school without Camille? I won’t have anyone to wait for me in the morning or sit next to me at lunch. And with Andee at the high school, I won’t have anyone to wave to in the hallway either.
As soon as Dad drops me off, I hurry inside. I have English first period, and I take a seat in th
e middle of the room. I recognize some of the kids from last year but see lots of new faces.
Ms. Lewis says that seventh grade will be much harder than sixth, and we have to take charge of our own education. “You are the ones responsible for putting forth your best effort.” Her voice is monotone. I wish I could take my book out of my backpack and read, but I’m in the second row so she would definitely notice. I look out the window toward Fenwick and wonder how Fan is doing on her first day at an American high school.
Second period is world history. Mr. Freeman holds up a big jar that says SUGAR on the outside. “Can anyone guess why I brought this to school?” he asks.
One girl raises her hand. “For your coffee?”
“Good guess,” he says. “But I drink it black. Anyone else?”
Nobody has any other ideas.
“Because sugar changed the world.” He tells us that you can trace history if you follow a single product. For example, sugar cane was responsible for the rise of the slave trade in the United States, he explains, and for ending slavery in England. I really like the way he jumps right into the class instead of talking about grading and responsibility and school policy. I can tell that world history is going to be great.
“Anna!”
I turn around and Hideat, a girl I know from CAT, is right behind me. She takes my arm and pulls me along to the cafeteria. “I’m so glad we have the same lunch bell.” We find seats in the back by the window. “How was your summer?”
“Kind of boring. What about yours?”
“I watched my little sister most of the time.” Hideat opens her lunch container and offers me a section of her orange. “Where’s Camille?”
“She’s going to Springer this year.”
“What’s that?”
I wonder if I should tell people that Camille is in a special school, but then I remember that she is always so open about everything. “It’s a school for kids with learning disabilities.”
Hideat looks surprised. “I know she didn’t get really good grades, and she always seemed so worried about school, but I didn’t know it was that serious.”
“Her parents wanted her to go,” I say. “Hopefully just for one year.” Then I tell Hideat about Fan, how I met her when I was in China, and how she’s at the high school as an exchange student for the year.
“Is she living with you?” Hideat asks.
“With Andee.” I look out the window and there is Fan, eating lunch with a group of kids on the high school patio. Sam from CAT is sitting next to Fan, and a blond girl is on her other side. But where is Andee?
The bell rings and we hurry to our third class. The rest of the day goes by slowly—art, math, and Spanish. I know a few kids from last year, but none of them is my friend, and I think this is going to be a very long year.
Chapter Seven
The Weekend
Mom arranges with Mrs. Wu for Fan to spend the weekend with us. When they get to our house, I ask Andee if she wants to stay over too, but she seems in a hurry to leave. “I already have tons of homework,” she says.
“Do you want to plan our first joint CAT meeting? I bet my dad could take you home later.”
Andee looks sideways at Fan, who is sitting on the floor with Ken. “I think we’d better wait.” She pushes open the screen door.
As I watch Andee cross our yard, I remember how she used to love being at my house with Kaylee and Ken and commotion all around. She said her house was too quiet, and she wished she had a noisy family like mine. But now she’d rather do her homework in the car. Does she need a break from Fan? Or from me?
Kaylee is putting her sock mouse on top of Ken’s Lego robot’s head. Ken keeps taking it off. Maow Maow is watching from underneath the sofa. “I like your family,” Fan says.
I join them on the floor. “Do you like Fenwick High?” I ask.
“The teachers talk very, very fast. I think I cannot study well. But I will try hard every day. I will not . . . give up.”
“When I first got to China, I couldn’t understand people either. I think it takes a while.”
“Yes. Andee’s mother says that too. She says join activities and talk to people is the way to learn. So I want to join volleyball.” Fan sighs. “Students are very nice. They want to help me.”
“That’s good,” I say.
“Andee does not join anything.” Fan looks concerned. “She fights with her mother. Every day they fight.”
“About what?”
“I don’t understand what they say.” She pats Kaylee’s head. “I think Andee is not very . . .” She searches for the word. “Like my friend in China. She does not have many friends to talk.”
I think about that. In middle school, Andee ate lunch with Sam and a few other kids every day, and she spoke easily at the CAT meetings. She seemed pretty sociable compared to me. What has changed for her in high school?
Kaylee plunks herself on my lap with a Babar book. “Read it to me,” she says.
“Not now,” I say.
Kaylee pushes out her lower lip and pouts. “Just like my Little Monkey brother,” Fan says. “He wants me to play with him. But sometimes I am tired of play.”
“You must miss your family.” I remember how homesick I felt in China when I looked at photos of Ken and Kaylee.
“Yes, I miss everybody. My mother writes me a letter. She says the big problem is my grandfather is not feeling good. And they must send money for medicine every week.” Fan takes out her notebook. “The important thing is I must study very well.” She shows me her list of new words: lawyer, pharmacy, orthodontist, braces, tighten, extended family, nuclear family, debate, popular, sociable. She asks me to say them and then she repeats after me.
“Your pronunciation is good,” I say.
“Not so good,” she says. “The students at Fenwick don’t understand me very well. And I don’t understand them.” She sighs. “Especially Andee. She talks not very clear.” Fan pauses. “I must listen.”
Later, Fan is moving her lips in her sleep and I wonder if she is practicing her new vocabulary words. I remember lying in the hotel room in Beijing and saying new Chinese words and phrases over and over in my head. Sometimes in the morning they were still there, but other times I couldn’t remember a thing.
On Saturday morning, Camille is waiting outside the church where we have our Chinese class. As soon as she sees us, she runs over and gives me a hug. “It seems like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“I know!” I say. “How’s Springer?”
She pushes her bangs out of her eyes. “The teachers are nice, but I miss Fenwick.” She turns to Fan. “How do you like American high school?”
“I like to study. But my English is not good.”
I introduce Fan to Teacher Zhao. He is glad to have a teacher’s helper, and Fan says the words and phrases clearly so we can get the tones right. She also teaches us a new song. At Chinese school, Fan seems more like she did in China, sure and comfortable.
“This song is very popular in China,” she says.
“You used one of your new words,” I say.
Fan smiles. “Every night I practice.”
On the way home, we stop at the library and I show Fan where they have the poetry books. She picks out Where the Sidewalk Ends and a book with poems by lots of different authors. Then I show her the chapter book novels, and we borrow Charlotte’s Web and Superfudge. Fan says that even though some of the books are for younger kids, they will help her learn English. She looks around the library. “This is my favorite place,” she says.
“Mine too,” I say. I tell her how in fourth grade, I read so much that my parents were worried.
“Reading is the key for the world. That’s what my teacher told me,” Fan says. “My little brother doesn’t like to read. But I make him so he can grow up smart and help my family.” Fan opens the poetry book and starts reading out loud:
“‘Soothing Sea Sounds’ by Aufie Zophy:
‘Soothing, brea
king one by one,
Peaceful brushing on the shore
In crescendo and then back down
My soul is asking for much more.’”
Fan reads the poem again silently. “I never see the sea,” she says.
“I saw it near Shanghai,” I say. “And once we drove to the beach in North Carolina.”
She reads the poem a third time. “I cannot understand all the words, but this poem has sound like water.”
Chapter Eight
News from China
Fan goes to school with Andee during the week and stays with us most weekends. We have Chinese class on Saturdays, and after that Fan spends most of her time on her homework. She has trouble understanding the textbooks, especially Ancient and Medieval History. I try to help, but she reads so slowly that by the time we get to the end of the chapter, she has lost the meaning. I write her a summary of the whole chapter like I used to do for Camille so she can at least get the main idea.
Every time Andee and her mom drop Fan off, I ask Andee to join us, but she never wants to stay.
“Do you want to think about some possible CAT projects?” I ask again.
She shakes her head. “Not yet.” I notice that she has had her nose pierced, and she is wearing a tiny diamond stud.
“Why don’t you stay and do homework with us?” I ask.
Andee looks so put together in her blue shorts and sleeveless top. Her neck is slender like a model’s. But something in her face looks unsettled. She watches Fan go up the stairs. “Does she complain about me?” she whispers.