Peter Lee's Notes from the Field

by Angela Ahn

  “That’s because you were a terrible student,” Haji said. Koreans have a way of being brutally blunt. Mom calls it the “Korean way.” If you’ve put on weight, a Korean will tell you: You look fat today. If you have a new outfit and you’re not sure about it, a Korean will tell you their opinion: Those clothes look terrible on you. The Korean way can be pretty rude.

  “What?” Mom said, outraged.

  “You were so stubborn! ‘Why do I need Korean? We live in Canada!’ ” Haji said, mocking Mom’s voice. “Ah, I gave up. Can’t force somebody to do something they don’t want to.”

  “A parent’s job is to force their children to do things they don’t want to do,” Mom replied with seriousness. “That’s the very definition of being a good parent.”

  I saw L.B. look up from her Rubik’s Cube and stare at Mom.

  I added a note to my Environmental Observations.

  Try to catch L.B. peeling stickers off her Rubik’s Cube.

  “Ah,” Haji said, clicking his tongue. “You have your own Tiger Mama style. Not me.” He looked out the window and flipped down the sunglass lenses attached to his regular glasses, as if he had flicked over a “closed” sign. He folded his arms tightly across his chest.

  My eyes darted between Mom and Haji. You could feel indignation practically oozing out of every cell on Mom’s body. Meanwhile, Haji smelled like triumph. There was a very awkward feeling in the car. The audiobook was playing in the background, but I don’t think anybody was listening—it was just empty background noise.

  “Did you know all polar bears are left-handed?” L.B. whispered as she tapped my arm. I looked over and saw that she had switched to reading Four Thousand Amazing Facts to Share—she took the “share” part a little too seriously.

  When I didn’t answer her, she soldiered on. “Somewhat related! Only 7 percent of human beings are left-handed.”

  “For goodness’ sake, L.B. Leave me alone!” I replied impatiently.

  She stiffened up and said, “Petey, as a young man of science, you should find these facts intriguing!”

  “I do find them fascinating. Why don’t you let me read them by myself?” I glared at her.

  L.B. frowned at me and put her face deep into her book.

  “When’s the next rest stop?” Dad asked Mom.

  “Not soon enough,” Mom muttered.

  “Ji Won,” Hammy said loudly. Her eyes were closed, but she wasn’t asleep.

  I stared out the window.

  “Ji Won,” Hammy repeated.

  Haji turned around and looked at me.

  “Ji Won?” I asked, shrugging my shoulders.

  Haji leaned as close as he could so he could whisper, “She’s talking to you.”

  Hammy shook her head a bit, like she was shaking out loose cobwebs. “Ji Won. I mean, Peter…”

  “Yes, Hammy?” I said, confused. Just like we never called L.B. by Charlotte, nobody ever called me by my Korean name. Mom hadn’t said anything, but she had turned around to watch and listen. Her eyebrows looked furrowed.

  “I bought you something. It’s a vest for you to wear on our trip.” She had her eyes closed and I wasn’t sure if she was awake or talking in her sleep.

  I tilted my head and stopped to think. Did she mean the paleontology vest? The one she had already given me?

  “Hammy, I—” I started to say, but Mom shook her head at me, as if she wanted me to stop. I closed my mouth and pursed my lips.

  “Take nap,” Haji said to Hammy as he patted her leg. She settled back into her seat.

  That was weird. It ate away at me for a long time before I pulled out my journal. I wrote:

  What’s up with Hammy?

  Chapter 9

  CRAMPED VAN, SHORT TEMPERS

  Still Tuesday, July 2. Is it 4 p.m. or 5 p.m.? Does it matter?

  Conditions: Unbearable heat

  I opened the van door to a blast of heat. “Why’s it so hot?” I complained. The sun was so bright I squinted and used my hands to shield my eyes from the light. We were stopping for the night in Peachland. We needed a break.

  “This is as close to a desert climate as you will find in Canada,” Mom chirped. “It’s a microclimate!”

  Just hearing the word desert made me pat my pocket for my inhaler.

  “The human body needs plenty of vitamin D!” L.B. said. “Sunshine is the only natural source!”

  “I’ll go see if the room’s ready,” Dad said as he made his way to the hotel lobby.

  Haji hopped out of the minivan, but Hammy looked shaky. I held Hammy’s hand and helped her step down to the concrete. She let out a deep breath, reached into her purse, and pulled out her “Darth Visor”—the kind that shields her entire face from the sun—and slipped it onto her head. This look has caught on only with elderly Asian women. She sat down on a bench nearby. L.B. grabbed her skipping rope from the van and started jumping. Mom fanned herself with a magazine.

  I scanned the surroundings. The hotel was called the Peachland Inn and Suites. It looked…old. They could have used it for a scene in a movie set in the 1950s. It was a two-level building and all the rooms faced the parking lot.

  “Mom, please tell me that the rooms have air-conditioning,” I begged.

  “I sure hope so!” she said desperately.

  Dad came back and started transferring suitcases from the trunk onto the worn, faded carpet of the luggage cart. I knew I should have been helping, but I was too busy melting into a human puddle of sweat on the sidewalk.

  L.B. stopped jumping rope and proclaimed, “I’ll help!” But all she did was hop onto the corner of the luggage rack, hold on to a bar and wait for somebody to push her.

  “Peter?” Dad asked hopefully, wiping his brow. The back of his shirt was soaked and his glasses were steamed up.

  I slowly moved my sticky body and grabbed the edge of the cart.

  “The elevator is way down at the end of the building,” Dad told me.

  L.B. turned to look at me impatiently.

  As I put my hands on the cool brass frame of the cart, I suddenly had the feeling that it was time for a little experiment. Everybody knows that momentum is generated by mass and velocity. After doing some quick calculations of the total weight of the suitcases on the cart, I decided that L.B.’s additional weight was so slight it would have no effect on the momentum I could generate. If this ride was going to be awesome, I had to jump on the edge of the cart, adding extra mass, to really get this thing flying.

  “L.B., how many seconds do you think it will take us to reach the end of the building?” My hands held the frame tightly and my shoes dug into the cement.

  “Five seconds.” She grinned mischievously.

  “Okay, I’ll try for four.” I inhaled deeply, getting in as much oxygen as I could for the sprint and pushed as hard as I could to start the wheels rolling as quickly and efficiently as possible.

  “Faster!” yelled L.B. as she leaned to the side, trying to catch the breeze.

  I was trying to run as fast as Dromiceiomimus, which, considering its resemblance to the modern emu, meant my legs were flying.

  “Careful!” Mom yelled.

  I slowed down the cart by jumping off, halting all the hard-earned momentum I had generated.

  “Slow is not fun.” L.B. hopped off too.

  “We made it in six seconds anyway.” I shrugged, happy with my pace. “Even when I killed the speed.”

  She helped me push the cart the rest of the way to our room.

  When we opened the door, my eyes darted around the room. It was a very big space, and it had three beds lined up against one wall. The bed linens looked old and faded, and the room smelled musty. Traveling didn’t seem as glamorous in real life as it did on TV. But under the window, there was an air conditioner blasting frigid air, so it suddenly became the bes
t hotel room in the world. Nobody was going to move me away from the air conditioner until I was as close to hypothermia as I could tolerate.

  Mom and Dad transferred bags from the luggage cart into our room and everybody found a place to sit down. Except me. I was still standing so I could lift the back of my shirt and let the cool air waft up my spine.

  “I’m somewhat peckish,” L.B. said as she moved her bag near the window.

  “Hammy make you something.” She opened up one of her suitcases. It was completely packed with food. There were maybe two dozen packages of instant Korean noodles. “Pick one,” she said to L.B.

  I saw my favorite brand of black bean noodles. “Can I have one too?”

  “Of course!” Hammy said. She seemed to have perked up.

  “How are you going to cook these?” Mom asked.

  “Just boil water!” Hammy said. She pulled an electric kettle out of her suitcase. “All these noodles have own bowl already.”

  “I’ll do it!” Mom said quickly as she tried to take the kettle from Hammy.

  “I can do!” Hammy said testily as she shouldered Mom out of the way and filled the kettle with water.

  L.B. handed Hammy a packet and said, “Ahnmepgae haejuseyo.”

  We all stopped and looked at her. Haji roared with laughter and Hammy looked astounded.

  “What did she just say?” I asked Haji.

  “She just said to not make hers too spicy!” Haji told me, unable to suppress his joy. “L.B., when did you learn to say that?” He kept shaking his head, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

  “From listening to the Korean audiobook,” L.B. said simply.

  “L.B. so smart!” Hammy said warmly as she patted the top of L.B.’s head.

  I gritted my teeth, which had started to chatter. I had had enough of the air conditioner anyway. I walked up to my bag and pulled out my journal. I flopped down on the floor and wrote:

  Road trips sound fun, but they are not.

  Peachland is hot and extremely uncomfortable. It should be called Bakeland.

  L.B. learned Korean in five hours. Brat.

  Hotel rooms are depressing.

  I slammed my book shut and waited impatiently for my noodles.

  Why is it still Tuesday, July 2? 9:20 p.m.

  Conditions: Suffocating

  My skin was sticky everywhere, and I was tired from our day of traveling. We went out for a real dinner after our quick snack of instant noodles and then wandered around downtown Peachland, which, thankfully, was just one short strip of shops. After that, nobody was in the mood to do anything except go to sleep. I got my pajamas out of my suitcase and lined up for my turn in the washroom.

  Even L.B. was too tired to make any obnoxious remarks. She sat quietly on the bed, holding her toothbrush. Haji was taking forever. He was really brushing hard and loud and making all these noises. You learn a lot about a person when you share a hotel washroom with them. The things I was learning I really, really didn’t need to know. He did this thing with his throat that I think of as Korean-style phlegm management and I cringed.

  “Are you sure you’re going to sleep on the floor, Peter?” Mom asked me for the fifth time. She was climbing in to her bed.

  “Yes!” I puffed up the flat hotel pillow.

  “There’s room in L.B.’s bed.”

  L.B. smiled coyly and patted the empty spot next to her.

  “Nope! I’m fine!”

  L.B. frowned.

  “Okay, then, if you’re comfortable,” Mom agreed reluctantly as she turned off the lights. “Good night, everybody.”

  We all muttered our various forms of good night. Hammy and Haji had fallen asleep before the room went dark.

  I adjusted my blanket and settled in. Even though I was sleeping on the world’s thinnest and dirtiest carpet, I fell asleep instantly.

  When I woke up, the light from a bedside lamp was shining on me and I heard whispered voices. My eyes were sticky but I pried one open to sneak a peek at the alarm clock; it was 4:05 a.m.

  All the adults were surrounding Hammy, but L.B. was still asleep in her bed, curled up into a tight ball. Hammy was dabbing her nose with a tissue. I was very groggy and couldn’t tell what was happening for a few seconds.

  “Please don’t wake the kids!” Mom said desperately.

  “Let’s all relax…go back to sleep,” Haji said gently, encouraging Hammy to lie back down.

  “No!” Hammy hissed, clutching her tissue.

  “Mom, what’s wrong?” my mom asked.

  “I…I don’t know,” Hammy whispered. “I opened my eyes. I didn’t remember this room. I got so scared.”

  “It’s okay, Mom. We’re in Peachland. We’re traveling to Drumheller.”

  “Peter and museum. Dinosaurs.” Hammy nodded as if she finally understood.

  “Yes, Peter and the museum.”

  “Okay, I remember,” Hammy said. She looked like she was going to settle back down under the blanket.

  “Let’s try to get a bit more sleep. We’ve got to get on the road soon,” Dad whispered.

  “I’m glad the kids didn’t wake up,” Mom said as she got back into bed.

  I stayed as still as possible and tried so hard to keep my breathing regular and calm. Mom was wrong. I was awake, and I had seen and heard everything.

  Chapter 10

  DEFINE HOLIDAY

  Wednesday, July 3, 5:45 a.m.! How is this legal?

  Conditions: Heat wave continues

  Dad shook me awake and waved a paper bag in front of my face.

  “Breakfast!”

  I threw my blanket over my head. “What time is it?”

  “Five forty-five.”

  “Five forty-five!” I yelled.

  “We have a lot of ground to cover today. We need to get an early start.” Dad gave my shoulder a little poke.

  The paper bag crinkled.

  “I asked for extra bacon in yours.” The heavenly smell was impossible to ignore.

  I flicked the blanket off my face. “You’re not playing fair.” Name one person who won’t get up for extra bacon. I felt like every muscle in my body was rebelling against the act of sitting up, but I was a slave to the power of the bacon.

  I rubbed my eyes and looked around the room. Everybody was already up. L.B. waved and pointed to her mouth, full of bagel and peanut butter, as if to explain why she wasn’t talking, and all the adults sipped coffee. Mom flipped through a newspaper.

  With some effort, I unwrapped the paper around my sandwich and took a big bite, closing my eyes as I chewed. My brain was not working. I must have gone back to sleep after all the fuss earlier this morning and I wondered if anybody else had managed to go back to sleep. Nobody was talking and Dad seemed to have ordered himself an extra-large coffee, so I guessed he had just stayed awake.

  Hammy was dressed and took a small bite from her muffin.

  “Everything okay, Hammy?” I asked.

  “Oh, sure, Peter. Everything’s fine.” She smiled, but I could see the tired look in her eyes.

  As I popped the last bit of sandwich into my mouth, Dad pulled some math books out of the side pocket of his suitcase and said, “Here, just do a few pages.”

  I felt my jaw fall open, and a piece of bacon dropped out of the corner of my mouth. I was so shocked I didn’t even retrieve it off the floor.

  “I thought we were in a rush!”

  “There’s always time for math.” Dad placed a book in front of me.

  Just as I was going to protest, Mom said, “Summer learning loss is a real thing.”

  School had ended exactly six days ago. How could I have possibly forgotten anything? Scowling, I picked up the book.

  “Pencil,” I said through gritted teeth as I held out my hand. Dad reached into his
suitcase and dropped one into my palm.

  “You too, L.B.,” Dad said as he handed her a workbook.

  Peanut butter was crusted on her lip and she looked surprised, as if she thought she was excused from this sort of thing, and I smiled. It was only fair. If I had to suffer, so did she.

  She snatched the book out of Dad’s hands. She stomped to the corner of the room with her half-eaten bagel hanging out of her mouth and irritably flopped down on the floor. Treating the book very roughly, she slammed the spine down on the ground and pushed along the length of its pages with the palm of her hand so it would stay open.

  “L.B.…,” Mom said reproachfully as she zipped up a suitcase. “Your math tutor suggested this series of books for you while we were on holidays. It must be good.”

  L.B. ignored her and focused on scribbling furiously in her book. When Mom turned her back, she quietly muttered, “Some holiday.” It wasn’t loud enough for our parents to hear, but I heard it.

  The lead of my pencil broke and I looked up at the ceiling in exasperation. By the time I found another pencil, L.B. had closed her book shut and said, “Done!” She left the book on the floor and went to go sit next to Hammy.

  I hadn’t even finished two questions yet!

  “You want to play?” L.B. asked Hammy as she stuck her hands out, palms up. She was asking Hammy to play their hand-slapping game. They thought it was fun, but I thought it looked pretty much like hitting somebody for no reason. People go to jail for that.

  Before Hammy could answer, Dad handed L.B. a book called Engineering: A Very Long History and said, “Let Hammy rest. It’s going to be a long drive in the van today. Read this while we wait for Peter—he might take some time.”

  I quietly fumed.

  “We play later, okay?” Hammy said, patting L.B.’s arm. She closed her eyes and leaned against her pillow.

  While I was concentrating on finishing the stupid math questions, the rest of the family discussed our next stop. I just heard some talk about Banff and hot springs but didn’t ask any questions because I knew everybody was waiting for me.