Thank goodness Billy rescued us. He was wearing a suit and a white shirt with a tie. “Hey, Azalea! You came!” he said.
Melinda and Sandra fluttered their fingers at my grandmother and skipped away. I hoped that was the last I’d see of Melinda Big Bow in my entire life.
Billy grinned like those stuck-up girls hadn’t looked right through us both. “Leave the wheelchair under the tree. I’ll help you, Mrs. Clark. My grandparents are already here. My parents couldn’t come, though. Somebody had to run the grocery in Shallowater. They can hear my sister play any old time.” He sounded disappointed, but he still waved and smiled to the people parking their cars in front of the church.
When we walked into the big Fellowship Hall, it was all I could do not to gasp out loud. I was getting good at talking to one stranger at a time, maybe two, but here was a whole roomful. For somebody whose favorite thing was sitting under a shady tree with a sketchbook or talking quietly to Billy or Barbara Jean, I had to push myself into the room.
A sea of beautiful colors, of ladies in high heels and fancy clothes, filled the folding chairs lined up near the piano. A few older people stood near the refreshment table, talking together in Chinese. Mr. Wong waved from the front row, and I tried to smile back. But my head was swimming from the sweetness of more flowers than I’d seen all summer in Grandma Clark’s garden. When a tiny lady with her hair done up so pretty, wearing the most beautiful dress in the room, walked up, my grandmother straightened her hat and folded her gloves on top of each other.
Billy touched the Chinese lady’s shoulder and smiled. “Yang Yang, this is Mrs. Clark and Azalea.”
I said hello and talked to a person I’d never met. I am getting braver.
“I know you’re proud of May Lin, such an accomplished musician,” my grandmother said. “I remember when Billy’s sister and brother worked with me at the Chinese Mission School’s garden a few years ago.” She and Mrs. Wong talked about how nice the tomatoes had been this summer and how pretty the flowers were today till Billy took his grandmother’s arm and slowly walked to the front row.
Before the music started, my grandmother whispered, “I suspect many of these guests are cousins, aunts, uncles. Billy has quite a large family, doesn’t he? Look at the children worrying over Mr. Wong.”
“Your family’s getting bigger by the day,” I whispered back. “Especially if you include all those frowners in the photos.” She and I laughed together, and Grandma Clark touched the pearl pin holding her straw hat down, then patted my hand. I didn’t let go until May Lin’s beautiful playing stopped. That’s when my grandmother and I dropped hands to wave across the room to Billy.
Even if Grandma Clark claimed I was doomed to have my daddy’s devilish blue eyes, I knew she loved me. And I loved her, too.
Great Uncle’s Advice to Nieces and Nephews,
Tacked to Our Kitchen Wall
I will write this into my stories.
Lucky Five
Words to Live By
1. Be honest.
2. Be generous.
3. Be polite.
4. Study hard.
5. Honor your elders.
Billy Wong, Son, Grandson, Great Nephew
Until Mama and Daddy came to take me back to Tyler, Texas, I was still my grandmother’s Number One Helper. Tidying up the big dining room table, I held up a wooden Popsicle stick labeled Bok Choy. “Did you spell something wrong, Grandma Clark?”
“Heavens to Betsy, girl. Haven’t you learned a thing at Mr. Wong’s store? Bok choy’s a delicious vegetable. Grows nicely if we have a warm fall. With luck, I should have enough to share with the Wongs’ customers before Thanksgiving.”
I fiddled with her ink pen, rolling it between my fingers. “Billy says he’ll help you when I leave. But he’s joining every club in the universe. That’s all he’s talked about since his sister’s recital.”
Grandma Clark sorted another garden marker into the right stack. “I imagine the helpers will come one last time. After that, I can manage on my own. The hard work’s finished.” She stood up and looked out the window to a bed of tall flowers, bright orange in the sunshine. “Let’s dig up some of my spider lilies. I’ll bag some up for Johnny Morgan. Should grow in Texas without much attention.”
I’d never liked those creepy spidery flowers, but if she wanted to pass along anything from her garden to my daddy, I wasn’t saying a word.
“First I’d better return Mr. Jackson’s bike. You think he’ll find me another one next summer?”
Grandma Clark smiled bigger than the cat on her kitchen clock.
By the time I’d cleaned off my bike good enough for somebody else to appreciate it and ridden all the way out to Henry Jackson’s place, I needed a cold drink. Thank goodness he had a block of ice cooling his sweet tea. We poured ourselves glasses and sat at his picnic table.
Mr. Jackson’s dog put her little head between her paws and looked up. “Tiny’s gonna miss you, Azalea. Mrs. Clark’ll be sad when you leave, too.” When he scratched Tiny’s ears, I swear that Chihuahua was smiling at me.
“Took my grandmother a while to get used to me.”
Mr. Jackson took a big sip of tea and took his time answering. “That’s her way. She’ll be counting the days till next summer, I guarantee. She and your friend Billy.”
“Did you hear they caught the guy who messed up the Wongs’ store?”
“Sure did. Some folks just don’t know how to behave, do they? But I hear you helped Willis out of trouble.”
“Don’t know about that. At least I finally told the truth.” We let the silence settle on that thought.
“When is Mary Josephine getting here?” Mr. Jackson asked.
“Mama? The same evening Billy starts school. My school starts a few days later. I’ll be back in Texas!” I set my tea down on the ice block to cool it off, then held my glass against my cheek. Back in Texas didn’t sound like such an emergency now. “I better go. Grandma Clark’s got some last chore dreamed up for me, no doubt.”
“Speaking of that, tell Mrs. Clark I’ll finish painting the shed soon as I catch up with my bike fixing.”
“Guess what, Mr. Jackson. Willis is doing it! Grandma Clark cooked up a deal. He has to put another coat on and finish the windows since she let them sleep out there. Well, not exactly let. But you know what I mean.”
Thinking about all the ugly things he’d said to Billy? Willis was sure to get in more trouble. Just like Billy was sure to be the star of the track team and the president of the school before long.
Mr. Jackson grinned big as anything. “Well, I’ll be. Didn’t know the boy had it in him to paint that shed like Mrs. Clark wants it.”
I took a last sip of sweet tea and fanned myself with my hand. “Willis’ll make a mess of it,” I said. “Or end up sitting in a tree all day.”
Without a bike it took me longer to get back to Grandma Clark’s. But truly, I didn’t mind how everybody waved and told me to have a nice day. Guess I was getting used to Paris Junction. Maybe I was getting braver.
When I got to the front of Lucky Foods, Billy was outside clipping dead leaves off geraniums. He stuck his clippers into his apron pocket and handed me a green plant. “Here’s something for your grandmother, Azalea. Scallions, from the Chinese school’s garden. I’d bring it over myself but I’ve got stuff to do before school tomorrow. Don’t think it’s too heavy for you to carry.”
“Thanks, Billy,” I said, and I took the clay flowerpot.
“Mrs. Clark and my great-aunt started that garden a while ago. Now that the school’s closed, Great Aunt’s trying to save the plants. Says these are good pickled.”
I didn’t want to insult Mrs. Wong so I didn’t tell him pickled scallion bulbs sounded awful. But my face might have given me away. I changed the subject back to what Billy loved talking about. “You excited about tomorrow?”
“Wait for me when school lets out and I’ll tell you about it,” he answered.
Even l
ugging a flowerpot, I skipped all the way to Ruby Street. I didn’t spill a bit of dirt or break off a green scallion. Grandma Clark would still have plenty to pickle.
On the day school started in Paris Junction, I took out my sketchbook to draw one last flower picture or maybe copy the shed’s blue paint color. And there it was. With all the other things crowding up my head, I’d forgotten the broken plate.
This morning Grandma Clark had made her own breakfast. Mine, too. Last night at supper, we’d sat at the kitchen table side by side listening to her radio station. Yesterday she’d let me use her best clippers again. Now roses were the first thing Mama and Daddy would smell when they opened the front door. But when my grandmother saw this broken plate, all the nice things we’d done together could fall to pieces.
I took three breaths to get my strength up for confessing. Then I walked downstairs to the kitchen. Grandma Clark folded her white dish towel over the sink and asked, “Did you finish packing your valise, Azalea?”
If I hadn’t been so nervous I would have smiled to remember the first time I’d heard that funny word, valise. “Almost finished. But first, I have something to tell you.” I handed her the broken plate. “I wish I could glue it back. But there are too many pieces. It was so beautiful. I’m really, really sorry.”
“Good heavens. I’ve broken a few myself. Can’t count how many your mother shattered. Don’t worry one bit. I have enough to last a lifetime.” She dropped every single piece right into the trash.
She slid two decorated cups and saucers across the table. “These are for you to take back to Texas. I painted them when JoBelle wasn’t much older than you are now. Keep them to remember your old grandma.”
“Grandma Clark! I’m not forgetting anything!”
“Pack them carefully. They’re pretty fragile.”
Touching the painted flowers on the perfect cups, I turned the saucers upside down. Her initials were signed on the bottom, like she told me always to do. I hugged her, then carried them upstairs. I carefully wrapped them inside my new pedal pushers, already packed, ready for the Tyler Elementary Back-to-School Picnic.
Notes for My First Day of School
What I’m Most Excited About
Tiger Times.
Running track.
Studying hard.
Making friends.
What May Lin Tells Me
She will pick out my first day clothes.
I should clip my fingernails.
Be sure I don’t smell like fish.
Sit in the front row.
Stay friends with Chinese. They will always be your friends.
Smile.
What I’m Afraid of on My First Day,
But Won’t Confess to May Lin
Missing the early bell because of
spoiled milk that needs wiping up,
soup can explosion,
meat cooler leak,
smelly fish delivery,
other Lucky Foods emergencies.
Hearing Willis call me names.
What Great Uncle Says about That:
Turn the other cheek.
But if I turn the other cheek,
I may not turn around again.
I may not smile again, like May Lin says I should.
Is it possible that May Lin
knows more than Great Uncle
about not looking down,
about turning the other cheek.
And about smiling?
Billy Wong, One of the First Chinese at the Paris Junction School
Walking from Ruby Street to the Paris Junction School should have been easy. Except today was the hottest day ever. And I was a little worried about who I’d have to talk to. Today, all I really cared about was saying good-bye to Billy.
I got there before the last bell rang and I waited on a shady bench, watching the front door. Of course, Melinda and Sandra and their stuck-up friends came out first, giggling to beat the band. I pulled my knees up to my chest and made myself into an invisible ball.
They saw me anyway.
“Hey, Azalea. You waiting for somebody?” Melinda flipped her hair bow like always and shifted her brand-new book satchel from one hip to the other.
“I’m waiting for Billy.”
“You hear about Willis?” she asked.
I shook my head.
Her friend spoke up. “He was in a bad fight. First day of school.”
“And guess what,” Melinda chimed in.
I was kind of speechless, so it was hard to guess what.
“He got a bloody nose. Spent all afternoon at the nurse. His nose looked like an elephant sat on it.”
The three of them broke into a fit of giggling and gasping for air.
Oh, brother. I’ll never like talking to girls like Melinda and her friends. Even about a creep like Willis. Lucky for me, they spotted the football team running around in their uniforms and I went back to being about as interesting as pulling up weeds in our garden.
But when Billy stepped outside, grinning like he’d already won the student council election, I jumped up and waved real big. “Billy! Over here!” He carried a pile of new books tight under one arm, his track shoes slung over the other shoulder.
Pretty close behind him? Willis came strutting out, nose bandaged and shirttail untucked. He looked toward the little kids’ school next door, where Lizzie waved from the swing set. Then he darted out the door like he didn’t see me and Billy. Kind of like that time we saw him in the hairnet and he tried to pretend he was invisible.
I already knew enough about Willis DeLoach to last an entire lifetime. But I had a zillion questions for Billy. “How was it? Did you like the teachers? Did you join the Future Farmers and the newspaper already?”
“Hold on, Azalea. Can’t do everything on my first day.” He sat next to me on the bench, swinging his feet and kicking up dirt, laughing, too.
I laughed right back. “Well, you might could. Me? If I joined clubs, I’d never say a word. If I raced around a track, I’d fall flat on my face.”
But truly, if I’ve learned a single thing this summer, it’s that even if you mostly love drawing flowers in your sketchbook, you can be friends with the boy who’s class president.
Billy opened his notebook and pulled out a list so new it smelled like the mimeograph machine. “Paris Junction Seventh Grade Weekly Schedule. Look at this. I bet my school in Shallowater wouldn’t have had half these activities. At my brother and sister’s Chinese school, there were no sports and not many clubs. Hope I can figure out how to do everything and still help Great Uncle at the grocery.”
Thinking about Lucky Foods made me curious enough to ask, “Did you see Willis fight? Melinda told me he got in a fight.”
“Heard he mouthed off to one of the tenth-grade boys. Who hauled off and slugged him good. Principal punished them both. I bet Willis will have to put on his hairnet and scrub more tables.”
“Willis had better mind his own business.” I drew circles on the bench with my finger, then looked Billy right in the eye. “I sure hope nothing like that happens on my first day of school.”
“I don’t think you have to worry, Azalea. You won’t have anybody like him in sixth grade.” Billy’s smile was brighter than the sun!
After he pored over his activities list, he folded it inside one of his brand-new books. Opening his Big Chief notebook to a fresh page, he said, “Write your address here.”
On the straight lines, I wrote in perfect Palmer penmanship:
Azalea Morgan
221 North Alamo Avenue
Tyler, Texas
“Promise you’ll send me the articles you write for the newspaper.”
Billy said yes. I knew he would.
“I better get to the store. Lots of business when school lets out. Great Uncle will need me.”
“I’ll walk downtown with you. My parents aren’t coming till suppertime. We leave tomorrow at the crack of dawn. Before it gets too hot.”
We walked
real slow back to Lucky Foods, first peeking in the window of the History Room, then the library. The waitress at Ward’s Drugstore was standing by the comic books, maybe even reading one herself. She didn’t look up. I didn’t care. Billy was the one making me laugh with his stories.
After he said good-bye and “See you next summer, Azalea!” he disappeared inside the grocery store.
I couldn’t wait till next summer.
I ran all the way to Ruby Street. Where Grandma Clark was in the kitchen, standing over a big canning pot. She added a pinch of salt and two heaping spoons of sugar. The more she stirred, the better it smelled.
“How was Billy’s first day? I hope the other children were kind to him.”
“Grandma Clark! We’re not children!” This time I laughed with her. “Billy loves school in Paris Junction. He said he’ll see me next summer.”
She put the top on her pot and reached her hand out to take mine. Grandma Clark hugged me and I hugged her right back.
When she finally let go, she said, “Your parents should be here before long, Azalea. They’re spending the night, leaving first thing tomorrow.”
All our family. In one place. Would those fireworks my daddy teased Mama about every time she talked to Grandma Clark explode? Or would they now be friends? Like me and Billy, and me and my grandmother?
“Grandma Clark, you think you and Mama will get along under the same roof? You’re not gonna say mean things about Daddy? You’re not still mad at them, are you?”
“Your parents left here as soon as they graduated from Paris Junction High School. Hardly took time to say good-bye. JoBelle took her daddy’s heart when she left.”
Making Friends with Billy Wong Page 11