Peter Lee's Notes from the Field

by Angela Ahn

  “Hey, they taste good!” Jay said.

  “To you, bro,” Samuel replied.

  Jay rolled his eyes and continued to shoot baskets.

  “At least you can appreciate these,” he said to me as he passed me a Styrofoam tray.

  I picked up a piece, laughing. “Well, even I don’t like this one with bean very much.” I picked out the dried beans embedded into the sticky rice cake.

  “That’s my favorite!” he said. “Don’t waste the beans, man—eat the plain ones.” He passed me the other tray.

  There was a pause as we chewed.

  “Hey, I heard a rumor. Are you planning on going back to Korea after this school year?” I asked.

  “Probably.”

  “Oh.”

  “Gotta do what I was born to do, you know,” he said. “Gotta try anyway. Otherwise, I’d always wonder. A life with regret ain’t a good life.” We finished our rice cakes and he slapped my leg to get me up and playing for a bit longer.

  I was getting better at my jump shots. If there weren’t too many guys around, Samuel did drills with me so I could get better. He was a good teacher. As long as I planned ahead and took a puff before the game, I never had to think about my lungs. Every time I took a jump shot, I felt my inhaler bounce in my pocket against my thigh. A little reminder that it was still there. And maybe it would always be there, but that was okay; it wasn’t going to stop me from trying to shoot at least 50 percent from the field.

  11:45 p.m.

  After I’d washed the reek off of me, I crawled into bed and kept thinking about two things: Joe taking a risk and trying a spicy mango Slurpee and what Samuel said about living a life with regret. Their words played over and over in my mind. There was just something about my talk with Samuel today that got me thinking, something I had tried so hard not to think about. Whenever I closed my eyes, all I could see was the back page of the Royal Tyrrell Museum’s newsletter. I stayed awake for a long time trying to ignore the itchy feeling in my hand. But L.B. was sound asleep, I didn’t fight it anymore, and instead of closing my eyes, I pulled out a flashlight, some paper and a pencil, and I got to work.

  The first thing I drew was a Cretaceous jungle scene. Lush and full of life. This was the period when flowering plants started to emerge. It was the time of rising sea levels and the age of the terrestrial dinosaurs most well-known to the general population, not paleontology-obsessed kids. I sketched and then looked hard at what I had drawn—the Titanosaurus roaming around foliage was boring, no action. I tossed the paper aside. The Mosasaurus popped into my mind, not a dinosaur but an ancient marine reptile; these were minor details the average person didn’t care about. I froze. I couldn’t remember if its fins had four or five digits.

  All the dinosaur facts I used to know so well seemed to be disappearing. Who else was going to care? Kendra. She’d know if I had drawn too many digits. The Mosasaurus joined the Titanosaurus in the trash pile.

  I glanced at the clock. It was almost midnight, but I wasn’t tired yet. I kept drawing. Every time I looked at what I had drawn, it just ended up in the reject pile. Maybe I was getting delirious but, since nothing I drew seemed any good, I switched gears and stopped trying to draw realistic scenes. Instead, I drew a variety of dinosaurs wearing jerseys and playing a game of soccer. I drew a Velociraptor wearing sunglasses and driving a convertible. I drew dinosaurs with streaked hair and matching outfits dancing on a stage. After all this drawing, I could barely keep my eyes open, so I knew it was time to go to sleep.

  I leaned over and threw the papers onto my desk. I finally turned off the flashlight and, for the first time in weeks, fell asleep and dreamed of dinosaurs.

  Chapter 33

  A NEW PARTNER IN CRIME

  Sunday, September 15, 6:20 p.m.

  Conditions: Crisp evening. Sweater weather

  I kicked Haji gently under the table. He looked surprised. I very discreetly motioned with my head in the direction of the living room. He squished his eyes together and shrugged his shoulders, not understanding what I wanted. I stared at him impatiently with a look that said, “Do what I say!”

  L.B. was playing a word game with Hammy. They did this game every night at dinner. L.B. said a word, like garden, and Hammy had to think of a word associated with it. If she said anything remotely related to L.B.’s word, it would count as correct. She gave Hammy a ten-second hug for each ten words she got right. She used my DoodleBoard to keep track. The hug usually lasted longer than ten seconds.

  Mom and Dad were watching the proceedings with interest. I knew they were keeping track of how fast Hammy could answer. When Hammy took too long to answer or if her answer was off, I could see them look at each other and I guessed they were ticking off some kind of mental scorecard. It was maddening to watch.

  “Today’s first word is beach,” L.B. said. She popped four grains of rice into her mouth with her chopsticks. Everybody else had cleaned their plates. Hammy always enjoyed sitting with L.B. as long as she could.

  “Oh, good one. Water!” Hammy said. My parents approved of the answer and nodded.

  Since everybody else was distracted, Haji and I slipped away.

  “What is it, Peter?” he asked when we were in the hallway far enough away that nobody could hear.

  I pulled my notebook out of my pocket. “L.B. and I have a plan,” I whispered.

  “For what?”

  “To help you and Hammy when you move home.”

  “Peter…” Haji’s shoulders slumped. “It’s hard time. I’m worried. Not sure I can help Hammy by myself…”

  I frowned at him.

  “We heard about this new place in Surrey…,” Haji said.

  “Not you too!” I whisper-shouted.

  “Not a bad idea. They will have Korean-speaking staff and—”

  I cut him off. “Look at her, Haji!” I pointed to Hammy. “She’s okay! She’s not as bad as you think. Let’s give her a chance. You can’t move her away, not yet!” I tried to stop them, but tears started to well up in my eyes. I rubbed them away angrily and, in the process, scratched my face with the coil of my notebook I was still clutching.

  “Peter. You have notebook.”

  “So?” I said, rubbing the spot on my cheek that I was sure would start bleeding any second.

  “You not carry notebook for a long time.”

  “How do you know?”

  “You think I don’t notice anything?” he asked. “Why you so angry about moving Hammy to place in Surrey? It might be for the best. Anyway, nothing is for sure yet.”

  I paused before I answered carefully.

  “Because it seems close, but it’s not. It seems like we could just stop by anytime, but we won’t. Something will stop us. Rush hour traffic or L.B. will have to take one of her classes. It will be something. That thirty-minute drive to see her will feel a lot longer than that. That space between where she is and where we are, it will get bigger and bigger. We need her close. L.B. needs her close. Haji, I need her close.”

  “Peter, she’s not going to get better. Doctor told us. Maybe stay stable for a little bit, but soon she will get worse. We don’t know when, but we know it will happen.”

  “I’ve been reading about it, Haji. I know more than you think I do. You think ripping her away will help? I think it will only make it worse, faster! She won’t be near the people who are important to her. Nobody there will care about her the way we care about her. The best way to keep her stable for as long as possible is to have her close to us!”

  Haji looked down at the ground and sighed heavily. “What’s in your notebook?” he finally asked.

  I flipped open the book and started to show him. “L.B. and I have been doing some research.”

  Chapter 34

  SANTA’S LITTLE HELPER

  Thursday, September 19, 10:35 a.m.

  Conditio
ns: Arctic chill

  Leaving the daily soccer games proved to be a good decision. I didn’t miss them one bit. I didn’t even know where my goalie gloves were, and I didn’t care. Joe and I spent more time with Samuel and his friends, and when it was raining and we couldn’t play basketball, we just stood underneath an awning and talked.

  One day when we were just starting to play, Ryan and Liam tried to join our basketball game. “Samuel!” Ryan said.

  Samuel turned around with the ball in his hands. “What?” he asked.

  “We had a great soccer match on the weekend, didn’t we?” Ryan asked.

  “Yeah, you scored two goals. Is that what you want me to tell everyone?” Samuel said to him. He passed the ball and ran up the court.

  “Samuel!” Ryan yelled again.

  Samuel stopped, looking irritated, and said, “Dude, what do you want?”

  “Can Liam and I join your game?” he asked.

  “Court’s full, man,” Samuel replied as he jogged away. “Come back after your shift at the North Pole toy factory is done.”

  Everyone had been watching their interaction, but I had been watching with greater interest than the others. A few of the guys on the court chuckled a little, but nobody made a big deal about what Samuel said—except Ryan. Ryan flashed Samuel an angry look and then noticed me looking at him.

  “What are you staring at, Noodle Boy?” Ryan seethed.

  I shrugged my shoulders and tried to suppress a smile. I suddenly liked Samuel more than ever.

  Friday, September 20, 9:05 a.m.

  Conditions: The day the Earth stood still

  It was first thing Friday morning. The final bell rang and the class was still milling about and getting settled. Ms. Tran stood up in front of the class and was just about to say something when Ryan’s hand shot up.

  “Yes?” she said.

  He waited until everyone was quiet.

  “I have some great news!” he said. “I won a writing contest. Look at what I received in the mail yesterday! It’s the first of many, I’m sure.”

  My heart sank.

  “The Young Ecologist Society of British Columbia had a writing competition.” He lifted up a magazine. “The topic was: how young people can be involved in environmental change. Here’s my first-place certificate!”

  He smiled broadly and held up the certificate for all to see. Smugness practically leaped off his face.

  Environmental change? That was his topic? There was a murmur of conversation in the class.

  “Doesn’t his mom drive one of those huge Escalades?” I heard somebody whisper.

  The paper even had a golden star embossed in the bottom-right corner. There was his name in fancy calligraphy under the words “First Place.” I wanted to die.

  “How wonderful that you are passionate about saving the environment!” Ms. Tran said. “I’m also personally very concerned about the environment and believe that each individual can make positive, meaningful change. For instance, I walk to school once a week instead of driving.”

  “Oh, I’m no tree hugger,” Ryan replied without a shred of humanity on his face. “I wrote it because I could. You don’t have to believe in what you’re writing to write an argumentative essay. You’ve just got to be good at arguing.”

  Ms. Tran’s face fell.

  “What was the prize?” Stephanie asked, tapping her pencil. “Did you win any money?”

  Ryan looked surprised. “The prize is winning,” he said matter-of-factly.

  Stephanie shot him her disgusted look.

  “I happen to have brought a copy of my essay to class.” Ryan looked hopefully at Ms. Tran.

  After an uncomfortable three seconds, Ms. Tran finally said, “Would you care to read it to the class?”

  Personally, I would have suggested he start saving the environment by promptly putting his essay in the recycling bin.

  “It would be my pleasure!” Ryan reached into his desk. He cleared his throat and stood up. Then he took a swig of water from his single-use water bottle, the kind he brought to school every day, and threw it in the trash. Ms. Tran almost fainted.

  Stephanie came up from behind him, picked his bottle out of the trash and put it in the recycling bin, which was sitting right next to the trash bin. She glared at him.

  Ryan held his essay between his hands, gave his bangs a flick to the side and he began, “The Earth is in crisis…”

  I think even Liam groaned.

  Chapter 35

  DO. OR DO NOT. THERE IS NO TRY

  Saturday, September 21, 9 a.m.

  Conditions: Clouds of obscurity

  “I think I want to tidy up my house today,” Haji told my mom in the kitchen.

  “Oh, sure.” Mom wasn’t even listening.

  “Can Peter help me?” he asked.

  “Okay.” Mom flipped the page of the newspaper.

  “You ready to go?” Haji asked, winking at me quickly.

  “I just need a few things.” I grabbed my jacket and ran upstairs to gather my supplies.

  I tucked my copy of Fossil Dreams: A Young Scientist’s Essential Guide inside my jacket. I didn’t want Mom asking any questions. I had a small plastic bag full of cardstock pieces I had prepared. Those fit easily into my exterior pockets. I made sure I brought a good collection of markers, coloring pencils and black felt-tipped pens.

  I hadn’t been to Haji and Hammy’s house for a few weeks. Haji had been back a couple of times to pick up some more clothes or to get Hammy a book she wanted, but L.B. and I were never invited to go.

  As we walked into their house, I closed the door behind me and the Time picture slid. “Haji, really, it’s time to take this thing down.” I gave it its usual adjustment.

  “We have more important things to do right now, Peter.” He was right.

  It took some time for me to feel comfortable, even though I had always considered their house my second home. I stood in the doorway and prepared myself.

  I flipped through some of the pages in my notebook just to remind myself what I needed to do. I unloaded my supplies from my jacket pockets and laid them all out on the hallway table.

  Haji came up from behind me and put his arm across my shoulders. Pretty soon he wasn’t going to be able to do that. Our bodies were moving in opposite directions.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  I inhaled deeply. “I’m ready.”

  “Where should we start?”

  “The kitchen.”

  1:30 p.m.

  We had put several hours into the kitchen and it was as good as it was ever going to be. My part was done, but Haji still had a few things left he wanted to do. I decided to tackle the rest of the house. I wandered into the living room. I grimaced at the world’s ugliest family photo and moved past it. I stopped in front of Hammy’s cabinet full of ceramic pigs.

  I wondered what happened to the one I’d bought her. I looked for it, but I didn’t see it right away, so I started rummaging around the cabinet. Then I noticed there was a thin bottom drawer that I had never really seen before. I gave it a tug and it reluctantly slid open. Loose papers were stacked randomly on top of each other. I picked up the page on the top. It was a sketch of a tall boy wearing a field vest and carrying a shovel. The face was pretty good, but not totally realistic. It was in black ink, with confident lines and short but determined strokes. I could tell it was like a first pass, no corrections, no erasing, no fussing with the lines like you could do in pencil. My hands started shaking.

  Haji came into the living room. “Hey, where did you go?” Then he saw what I was holding and I could see his shoulders give way and the corners of his mouth tighten.

  “What do you think?” Haji came next to me and peered at the picture.

  “Did you do this?”

  “No! I can’t draw. Hammy
did it.”

  “Hammy?” I was shocked. I didn’t know Hammy could draw.

  Haji looked disappointed in me. “You didn’t know she went to art school?”

  “She went to art school?” I didn’t mean to shout, but I couldn’t help it.

  “In Korea. When I met her she was at Ewha Womans University. She was studying fine arts. My friends and I used to sit in a park near her school just to…” He looked shy and sly all at once. “You know, look at girls.”

  “Haji, too much information.” I held my hand out like a stop sign.

  He chuckled. “She caught my eye. You know how Hammy always take care with her cardigans and scarf? Always like that. Very neat and tidy. So beautiful. All my friends think she was prettiest girl at the university. But Hammy had to quit school after two years because her parents couldn’t afford tuition anymore. So, I married her instead.” His eyes twinkled from the memories and he smiled.

  “She never finished?”

  He shook his head.

  “Did Hammy regret not being an artist?”

  Haji looked surprised. “What do you mean?”

  “That she didn’t…you know, live out her dream?”

  “She did live out her dream. She had your mom. Hammy was the best mother to her, even though your mom kind of bossy now. We only had one child, so Hammy gave her everything. That’s a kind of dream, right? Sometimes dreams can change a little.”

  “But her art, Haji, what about her art?”

  “She does art all the time, in her own way.” He gestured to the cabinet full of ceramic pigs. “She looks for art everywhere. The way she decorates the house. It’s like her art. Cooking for you, even. When she puts vegetables in a certain way, it’s art to her. She never give it up.”