Peter Lee's Notes from the Field

by Angela Ahn

  We couldn’t get a hotel room in Calgary because the Calgary Stampede was on. But my parents had bought tickets to the rodeo and that’s where we were headed. We’re from Vancouver. And we’re Korean. I had never ever been anywhere where I felt out of place for not having a cowboy hat, but that is exactly how I felt at the stampede. I was sure Calgary wasn’t always like this, but today I was glad we were here for only a few hours before heading to our hotel in Canmore.

  We had terrible seats in the stadium because we booked everything so late, but that didn’t stop L.B. from waving that silly dinosaur in the air and yelling to the contestants, “Trixie is cheering you on!” L.B. was having the time of her life and shouting “Yeehaw!” whenever it was appropriate, and often when it was not.

  After watching a few barrel races, I saw Hammy talking to Mom and then Mom talking to Dad. I couldn’t hear a thing.

  I asked Hammy what was wrong.

  “It’s too exciting for me here,” she replied wearily. I could see she was trying to smile, but she couldn’t quite manage it.

  It was really loud and overwhelming in the stadium.

  “I’ll take her to the van,” I volunteered to Mom.

  She looked relieved. “Thank you, Peter. L.B.’s having such a good time, it would be a shame to make her leave.” After digging around in her purse for a minute, she found her keys and handed them to me.

  Hammy held my arm as we slowly walked back to the van.

  So while I can tell people I’ve been to the Calgary Stampede, the truth is, most of my time there was spent watching Hammy sleep in the back of the minivan. She’d been a real trooper while being dragged all over Drumheller yesterday, so I hoped today she just needed a bit more sleep and would be as good as new. I was keeping my eye on her, just in case.

  The parking lot at the stampede is just like any other parking lot, except for the smell. We had all the windows rolled down in the van so we didn’t suffocate, and when the wind blew in a certain direction, I could sometimes not smell horse manure. This air didn’t make me wheeze; it just made me dry heave, so I took that as a small victory.

  At least I had a giant book to read. I flipped through the Complete Encyclopedia of Ancient Life: Ultimate Reference Guide with Subatomic Illustrations because the pictures were kind of awesome.

  When that got boring, I played with my flat soccer ball, and I tried keeping it up in the air with my feet, but the flatness made it impossible to predict where the ball would go.

  I could hardly believe that I was happy to see L.B. skipping through the parking lot. I was even happier to see Mom holding a takeout container.

  “Leave some for Hammy in case she’s hungry when she wakes up.” Mom passed me the box.

  I opened it up to see cold chicken strips and fries. Here’s some math: four chicken strips between two people equals one hungry boy.

  We settled into the van and everybody buckled up. Hammy roused slightly, but stayed asleep.

  “Next stop Canmore,” Dad said.

  “Yeehaw!” L.B. yelled through her open window.

  Chapter 17

  CONVERT THIS

  Sunday, July 7, 10 a.m.

  Conditions: Sarcastic

  The only thing to say about Canmore was we had to stop for a moose that was crossing the road in the middle of town. That was decent. A moose is a lot bigger in real life than you’d think.

  When we saw it, L.B. grabbed her book, Four Thousand Amazing Facts to Share, and flipped wildly until she came to the page she was looking for.

  “A full-grown moose can weigh 1,300 pounds! That’s…590 kilograms.”

  I turned to stare at her.

  “Don’t you wish there were global standardized units for weights and measurements?” she asked me.

  “Yes, I’m sure it would bring about world peace,” I told her, my voice as deadpan as I could make it.

  “Are you mocking me, Petey?” L.B. puckered her mouth and hugged Trixie tight.

  “What do you think, Little Einstein?”

  Mom gave me a dirty look and so did L.B. I stared out the window placidly, knowing that we’d be home in a few days.

  3:30 p.m.

  I think it would be accurate to say that ever since L.B. got Trixie, she’d pretty much been strangling that green fluff ball. Trixie’s face was often smashed up against the window as we made the drive out of Alberta, back into British Columbia. In just a few days, Trixie had developed a noticeable gray ring around his neck from her grimy hands.

  Our last stop before the final push home was Kelowna. At the hotel, there was an in-suite washing machine and dryer, so Mom said to L.B., “Can we at least wash that thing? He’s getting a bit dirty, don’t you think?”

  “This?” She pointed to his gray neck. “This is the mark of true love. You may never wash Trixie.”

  L.B. would probably say that getting Trixie at the gift shop was the highlight of her time in Drumheller. I guess, considering how things went at the dig, the microscope Haji bought me was the best thing that happened to me in Drumheller, but the bar was pretty low, wasn’t it? Normally I would have been too embarrassed to ask for such an expensive gift (I realized after he bought it that it was the priciest item in the store). I had already passed into the realm of utter and complete humiliation, though, so how could I possibly feel badly about asking for a gift that Haji was practically begging me to pick?

  This was not a toy microscope; it was a serious one. Even Mom thought it was an excellent choice. “Maybe this is just the thing you need to develop an interest in molecular biology!”

  I hadn’t had much of a chance to use the microscope while we were in Drumheller or Canmore. In Kelowna, though, we had a few hours to just hang out. We could have gone to do some exploring, but even Mom and Dad were too tired to go for a hike at Knox Mountain, and we settled for a short walk along the waterfront before we all came back to the hotel room and crashed. Hammy was so tired she fell asleep sitting in an armchair. I pulled the small coffee table as far away from Hammy as I could and I set up the microscope.

  Haji sat down to watch me and said, “Cha, looks very professional! You pick best thing in the gift shop.”

  I smiled at him and opened the lid to the box of slides that came with the microscope. The box was neatly organized with almost two hundred different slides covering all kinds of different branches of science. I loved this box of slides. The interior of the box was fitted with little grooves so that the slides fit perfectly, without touching each other. Each slide was labeled clearly and color-coordinated by topic. It was like a work of art.

  Haji peered at the box of slides and gingerly pulled out one of the specimens. “What’s this?”

  I read the label. “See how it’s colored red? Red means it’s herpetology, the study of reptiles and amphibians.”

  Haji adjusted his glasses and read, “Chameleon skin.” He made a face.

  “Poor chameleon,” L.B. said sadly.

  “What are the blue slides?” Haji asked.

  “Biology.” I lifted up a slide to show him. “This one is a cross section of…” I put the slide down.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Dog tongue.” I grimaced.

  “Why is science so cruel?” L.B. cried.

  Her words punched me in the gut. Science was cruel. How can you think you love something so much and then have it treat you so badly? Paleontology fieldwork was the cruelest science of all.

  “Do you have any slides that do not require the death of an innocent animal?” L.B. stroked Trixie’s head.

  “It says on the box that no animals were harmed to produce slide samples,” I told her.

  “I prefer to stay ignorant about their origin nonetheless!”

  I looked back into the box. “Here. The green ones, botany. Here’s a nice harmless slide of dandelion pollen.”


  “That’s better,” she said, looking more relaxed. “Can I see?”

  I put the slide into the clips, and I was adjusting the eyepiece before I started to fine-tune the focus when I saw a flash of fluffy mint green fabric. L.B. had stuck Trixie’s stubby little arm under the lens.

  “Hey! Quit it!” I yelled while I batted Trixie away from my microscope.

  “I was just wondering if Trixie had any visible bacteria,” L.B. said.

  I looked up from the eyepiece. “You’ve been holding that thing for four days straight. It’s been to the washroom with you. It’s fallen on the ground in a park. It’s been to several restaurants. Remember when you were at the playground in Canmore and you shoved him down the front of your shorts so you could do monkey bars? I think it’s a pretty good guess to say yes, Trixie is full of bacteria.”

  “Beneficial bacteria or harmful bacteria?” she said. “There is a marked difference.” She tried to push his arm under the lens again.

  “L.B., stop it! This is fragile! I thought you wanted to see the pollen slide.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  “That stupid dinosaur has every kind of bacteria! Now leave me alone!”

  “Sh! Hammy’s trying to sleep!” Mom hissed at us.

  “We need to get home, like, yesterday,” Dad said, rubbing his forehead. He stuck his fingers under his glasses and massaged his eyes. “Both of you, stop it! Do not wake up your grandmother!”

  I stared at Hammy; she hadn’t moved and was snoring softly.

  “We’re all vacationed out,” Mom said. “Could you two please stop arguing? Give each other some space!”

  Mom turned to Dad and said, “I can’t wait to get back to our regular routines. I’m sure L.B. has been away from her math tutor for too long.” He nodded in agreement.

  L.B. frowned deeply and clutched Trixie even closer to her.

  We retreated to our separate corners. Dad was right; we needed to get home. I was sick of sharing a washroom with so many other people. I was so tired of sitting in the van. I hadn’t punched a soccer ball away from the net for too long now and actually almost, kind of, missed seeing Ryan’s face when he didn’t score. But, in a weird way, this road trip had taught me a couple of important things. First, I was done with paleontology. Second, something was definitely wrong with Hammy and I was going to find out more.

  Chapter 18

  PACIFIC BREEZES ARE THE BEST BREEZES

  Monday, July 8, 5:20 p.m.

  Conditions: Climate-controlled. Willis Carrier, inventor of AC, is my hero

  We left Kelowna after eating an early lunch, and Dad busted down the highway like a man who was on a mission to end the holiday as soon as possible. Two hours later Mom took the wheel and she weaved in and out of traffic with mad skills. I didn’t know the minivan could move like that. When we took the off-ramp and I saw the “Welcome to Vancouver” sign, it felt like a giant relief.

  “Almost there,” Dad said. “We’re going to drop Haji and Hammy off first.”

  I looked over at my grandparents. Both of them had their eyes closed. I didn’t know if they were sleeping or just resting. Haji sat upright in his seat, but Hammy had folded up a sweater and used it like a pillow to put her head against the window.

  The sight of the city made me feel happy and, for the last stretch of the drive, we drove in complete silence. No Korean audiobook, no talking, no music. Just quiet. I think we all needed it. Mom even relaxed a bit and stopped driving like somebody was chasing us.

  We turned the corner and everything seemed so familiar and yet so strange at the same time. The neighborhood I knew so well I suddenly saw with fresh eyes. Little details that I had missed I now noticed. That house on the corner of Boundary Road and Joyce Street, was it always yellow?

  I counted off the streets as we passed them. Monmouth. Wellington. Yardley. The next one was Hammy and Haji’s. It was their same old house, and everything looked normal, but it felt different. Maybe I was different.

  When Mom slowed down and parked, everybody in the entire van relaxed. You could actually feel all the muscles in everyone’s body just kind of give way.

  Mom pressed the button, and the side door slid open. I squeezed between Hammy and Haji’s seats and jumped out of the van. Haji stirred and then finally realized he was home. He got out of the van stiffly and stretched his back. He patted my shoulder as I stood by the van door waiting for Hammy.

  Hammy didn’t move. L.B. leaned forward and stroked Hammy’s arm. “Hammy,” she whispered in her ear. “You’re home.”

  Her eyes opened slowly and she looked like she was trying to focus her gaze. “What? Where are we?”

  “Home,” L.B. answered.

  “Oh, oh,” she said. “Thank you, Charlotte.” Hammy patted L.B.’s cheek, collected her handbag and got out of the car. L.B. followed her.

  My mouth fell open instantly. L.B.’s eyes darted toward mine. Our eyes locked for a second before we looked over at our parents, who hadn’t heard.

  Neither of us said anything. We just stood outside the van, slightly stunned, watching our parents get Hammy and Haji’s bags out of the car.

  “Peter, don’t just stand there. Help!” Mom said, irritated.

  Startled, I grabbed the handle of a suitcase and rolled it inside the house. L.B. remained by the van with her eyebrows scrunched and her lips pursed.

  When the last bag was unloaded, we all stood around and said, “Well…”

  “Good trip!” Haji said, shaking Dad’s hand and leaning in for a hug from Mom.

  “Yes, yes,” Hammy said. “Wonderful sightseeing!” She looked at each of us and took turns giving us a hug, one by one.

  “L.B. and Peter have lots of good memories from trip,” Haji said.

  “Well, mostly good memories!” Hammy laughed. She did a cute thing with her eyes, darting a glance at me but pretending not to. Everyone laughed with her. Even I tried to laugh at myself, and I forced a little, half-hearted smile. I tried for Hammy, but I had to admit that it was hard to find humor in personal failure.

  L.B. gave Hammy an extra-long hug before we all got into the van for the very short drive back to our house. I looked back at Haji and Hammy for as long as I could, until I couldn’t see them anymore. In just a minute, we were home too.

  “Finally, we’re home!” Mom said as she turned off the engine.

  “Oh, I was unprepared for the euphoric feeling of familiar sights.” L.B. sighed. “I feel overwhelmed! Trixie, welcome home!” She faced Trixie toward the front door, so he could see our house. I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

  When Dad unlocked and opened the front door, we discovered there was a huge pile of junk mail inside, sitting underneath the mail slot. We had to give the mail a push with the weight of the door so we could get inside, stepping over all the flyers and ads.

  “Peter, can you pick all this up?” Dad said to me while motioning to the ground.

  There were a few large envelopes in addition to the junk mail. I was starting to sort through things when my mother came into the house, wheeling a suitcase.

  “What’s that?” she said abruptly.

  “The mail,” I answered.

  She snapped the neat pile of mail out of my hands, quickly picked out the large envelopes and then handed the flyers and junk back to me. “Recycle those, please,” she said. She stuffed the large envelopes into the front pouch of her suitcase. I looked at Mom curiously, which she just ignored, and I continued on into the house. I dumped the pile of paper into the recycling box before going back outside and lugging my duffel bag out of the back of the car. Then I climbed back in the van and I cleaned up around my seat—my games, my DoodleBoard. I tossed my deflated soccer ball onto the front lawn. I saw the tip of the journal I had started at the beginning of the road trip. I reached into the back pocket of the seat and pulled it out. W
ithout looking at it, I shoved it into the duffel bag before I took it upstairs to my room. Everything that reminded me of Drumheller was zipped up tight.

  Chapter 19

  A RARE EVENT

  Monday, July 15, time unknown

  Conditions: Unknown. Have not left bedroom. Curtains are drawn

  I was in my room when L.B. knocked on the door. We had been back from our trip for a few days and I had quickly settled into a summertime routine of being deathly bored but also being afraid to say anything because my parents were always ready with math exercises, spelling tests or other cruel reminders of school. I found it best to stay in my room as much as possible and pretend I was reading, even if I was sometimes doing a little mindless doodling.

  “What is it?” I yelled. I gathered up my papers and pushed them under my blanket.

  “Petey?” L.B. asked. “Can I come in?”

  “Fine…,” I muttered as I got up and opened the door. “What do you want?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “My coding project is done. My math tutor canceled class today because he’s sick. I have free time!”

  Even though I had just cracked open the door, she still managed to squeeze herself effortlessly inside, and before I knew it, she was making herself comfortable. L.B. sat down on the side of my bed and heard the crinkly sound of paper.

  “What’s this?” She lifted up the blanket and pulled out the one piece of paper I hadn’t wanted her to see.

  Her face lit up.

  “It’s Trixie! A modernist rendition, but you’ve captured his spirit!”

  I tried to rip the paper out of her hands, but she was playing keep-away. She was too small and too fast.

  “Petey! Why don’t you want me to see this? It’s so charming!” she said as she leaped off my bed and darted around my room.

  “L.B.!” I shouted. “It’s private!” I finally managed to grab the paper from her hands, and it ripped in two. Trixie had been decapitated.