The Counseling Center
Vuong comes up the front walk with a long box. “Whatcha got?” I yell. I hope it's something fun.
“Nothing,” he says. He brings the box into the workroom. Thuy and Lin are studying. He opens the box slowly just to make me wait. He pulls out a little fake Christmas tree all folded up. It has red balls already stuck on it and it leans when he sticks it on its stand. We look down at it. So does Buddha. Thuy and Lin and Buddha laugh at Vuong. I do too. His tree is nothing like the tall shining ones on TV all covered with lights and angels. Vuong takes the tree to his room and shoves it in the corner.
I know there's no real Santa Claus anywhere but I'm not sure about Christmas. “Did they have Christmas in Vietnam?” I ask my mom.
“We're here now,” she answers. She and my dad always say stuff like that when I ask questions about Vietnam. My sisters give me angry looks. They say it makes my mom sad to remember because of the war and the people in her family who died and the ones left behind that she may never see again. They don't want me to make my mom sad. I don't want to either but I would just like to know. We don't do Christmas but maybe other people from Vietnam do. My grandma tells me stories but not about what really was.
“Are there reindeer in Vietnam?” I ask my grandma. She thinks for a minute.
“No,” she says. “We have water buffalo instead. Water buffalo are big with powerful shoulders and curved horns.” Then she tells me a story about a tiger who sees a water buffalo work all day for a farmer. The tiger asks the buffalo why he works for a puny little man who is so much weaker than he is. The buffalo says it is because the man has a special box of wisdom. The tiger is curious and grabs the man in his claws and demands to see his wisdom. The man says yes but he is afraid if he goes to get it the tiger will eat his buffalo. “Let me tie you to this tree,” he says, “so I can show you my wisdom.” The tiger lets himself be tied to a tree and the man sets the tree on fire. When the ropes burn, the tiger is free but he has stripes where the rope burned his fur. The tiger knows he has seen the man's wisdom.
Talking tigers are about like flying reindeer but my grandma tells me the story so I will be smart. Maybe the Santa Claus story is so kids will be good. I'm smart enough to figure out that my parents didn't have Christmas in Vietnam. The old man used to have Christmas but I can tell he hasn't used the Christmas lights and the red glittery balls in the shed for years.
The old man never found Cat and the kittens when he got his mower but if he gets his Christmas stuff he'll find her for sure. I get a little piece of a hot dog to take to Cat. She likes Vietnamese fish better but hot dog is all we have today. I snake quickly through the little window. I hear the squeaky cries. The kittens are fine but they are noisy now. They are all there in a tangle of fur pushing their paws against each other, looking for Cat. All but the littlest gray one have their eyes open now. Cat pushes her way in through the crack. I give her the piece of hot dog, which she chews quickly holding it down with one paw. There are little cries again as she steps among the kittens. They all struggle to get to her. Soon they will be ready to eat fish and hot dogs too. Where will I get enough food? How can they stay hidden? I better get out my box of wisdom and figure it out.
I walk to school. Christmas is everywhere. The Mexican guy's house has a big Santa in front and lights all over the porch. The gas station has white bears bigger than kids, with red Santa Claus hats. They're for sale in a big pile. The streetlights have fake wreaths on them. The window of the ninety-nine-cent store is full of Christmas candy and Christmas paper and dolls and toy cars and a lot of other junk.
I think school will be different this last week but it isn't. “Du, you're to go to the Counseling Center immediately.” All the kids look at me the way they always do when someone's in trouble. But no one says, “What'd you do, Du Du?” the way they used to. I hope whatever I've done is not so bad that I miss the winter holiday program. The dragon won't be any good without me. I walk slowly over to the Counseling Center. I try to think of what I've done lately. Nothing big that I can think of but sometimes it's hard to know what they consider bad. Like the time I put glue on my arms. That didn't seem so bad and it was fun to peel it off. Mrs. Dorfman said it was a “waste of classroom materials.” Other kids were wasting more glue dripping it all over their paper sculptures.
Ms. Whipple smiles when I come in. “We need your help, Du,” she says. What is this about? Maybe it's a trick. “I must warn you that what I'm asking of you will be difficult. We have a mother in the nurse's office who is very upset. The nurse has found that her child has a hearing loss. The mother speaks a little English but when she heard about her child she was so upset that she can't understand anything else. I thought of you, Du. I thought you could explain to her in Vietnamese. Will you try?”
I shrug. I don't know anything about hearing loss.
“Thank you, Du. What we say in there must go no further than the nurse's office. Is that understood?”
I shrug again. Why would I tell anybody? She keeps looking at me with her eyebrows up until I say, “Yeah, I understand.”
She leads me down the hall. Inside the nurse's room the nurse is talking loud and slow, holding a little paper book in her hand. A mother is holding a boy who is just a little kindergarten kid so tight that his face is squished against her shoulder. Tears run down her face. She stands up like she is ready to walk out the door. The mother sees me. She turns her back like she's hiding her kid from me. I don't like this. I wish I had not said yes. The nurse sees me too. She must have been working hard because she puffs a big puff of air like she's had enough. She will give the hard job to me. “Tell her there are things we can do to help him,” she says quickly and softly. The mother sobs.
I figure this out and say it in Vietnamese. The mother cries harder. I do not want to be here. I wish I was back in spelling drill or social studies. The nurse reads something from the little book. I can't figure out what she's talking about. The mother isn't listening. The nurse reaches out with the book to show her but the mother thinks she is trying to take the kid. She backs away. I think of just clamming up or walking out the door. I think of my grandma. “You're smart, Du,” she always says. It's noisy now with the nurse talking loud again and the mother crying and the kid squirming. I try to think of what my grandma would do.
“Just a minute,” I say as loud as the nurse in English, and then in Vietnamese. I am surprised that it is suddenly quieter. “Can I have the book?” I ask in English. The nurse hands it to me. “What You Should Know About Hearing Loss,” it says on the cover, with a picture of an ear. I take it over to the mother. I show it to her. She looks away. I open the book. I point to the words on the first page. “Hearing loss has many causes,” it says. Then it tells about each one. I point at the words. I tell her as close as I can what they say. She looks down at the book. At least it is a lot quieter in here but she is still squishing her kid. I turn the page. Some of the words I don't know but I tell her pretty much what it says.
She is listening. It is quiet now except for me talking in Vietnamese. I don't talk at school much and I never talk Vietnamese at school. I get to the part about hearing aids to put in kids' ears. The kid struggles free. The mother lets him go. She's crying again. She shakes her head about the hearing aids. She knows that people will see them and then everybody will know that something is wrong with her child. I think of my grandma again.
“It's better than not hearing,” I say. That's not in the book. The book says that children who can't hear won't do well in school or learn how to talk right. I finish the last page of the hearing loss book. The nurse asks me to tell the mother about a doctor appointment. She gives the mother the book even though she can't read it. Ms. Whipple has been waiting in the doorway. She walks with me out to the playground where recess is just starting.
“You did that beautifully, Du,” she says. I look around to make sure no one heard beautifully. I don't want kids to start calling me Beautiful Du Du. “Isn't
it time you showed Mrs. Dorfman that you can read?” she asks. I shrug. “You have to give everyone a chance,” she says. “Even your teacher.”
This is funny. She wants me to give Mrs. Dorfman a chance? I wonder how she knows I don't want to do anything my teacher wants me to do. Ever since she put me in the dumbest groups and didn't hear when kids called me Du Du. I'll have to think about it.
“I'll see you in the dragon,” calls Ms. Whipple. She hurries back to the Counseling Center, where the playground aide is arriving followed by three kids who don't look happy. I run off to recess but I'm thinking about the sad mother in the nurse's office. She's right. Her kid's life will be miserable if he has hearing aids sticking out of his ears. Some kids will make fun of him. But then most kids won't. I won't. I think of Todd calling me Dude instead of Du Du and letting me share his bike lock. I'd much rather be like Todd than like Anthony. I'm going to watch for that kid on the kindergarten playground and do something to make him feel good.
Lightning
Everybody's excited. The last day before Christmas vacation. “Oops!” Mrs. Dorfman would say. “You mean winter vacation.” It's weird. She doesn't want us to say Christmas even though we all make paper stockings with cotton ball trim and the custodian dresses like Santa Claus and puts candy canes and erasers in them before recess.
It's time for the winter holiday program. I'm just a little scared when I see everybody's mom and dad in the audience. People are crowded in the back and around the sides. My mom and dad are at work. They don't have time for stuff like this. My grandma can't walk over here by herself. “You remember everything, Du,” she said, “and tell me about the wonderful dragon.” I sit in a room behind the stage with the rest of the dragon. We listen to Hanukkah and Kwanzaa and make faces at each other to show we're kind of nervous. I'm just scared for a moment when I see how many people are out there. I crawl under my box and wait for the gong. At the sound we all leap from behind the side curtain. I hear laughing and clapping. Hearing it makes me jump and shake and whirl around even fiercer than before. They can't see me in the dragon box but I can hear them laughing. They clap louder than they did for the others. I feel great when the last gong signal sounds and we jump back behind the curtain. I stick the dragon's head out from behind it one more time and give my mane a big shake. People laugh and clap. I wish I could do it again. The audience likes Santa Claus too, especially when he has to hold up his pants and his beard falls off. At the end of the winter holiday program Mr. Unger calls everybody back to the stage. When he says our names we crawl out from under the dragon and the people clap again. We go back to our classroom, where some of the moms and dads have set up a party with red and green cupcakes and punch and candy canes.
“You're some dragon,” one of the dads says.
“A cupcake for a dragon,” says a mom as she puts one on my desk.
Everyone yells “Merry Christmas” as we leave school after the winter holiday program and the party. Why not just call it Christmas vacation? Winter sounds like cold and snow and it's warm enough I don't even need a jacket. When I get home I tell my grandma everything. I tell her how everybody knows now that I'm a dragon.
I get up early because there's no school. I feed Cat a piece of chicken I saved and some rice. I mess around in the alley. I walk over to school. Todd is inside the playground fence shooting baskets. I climb the fence. We play basketball, which is better than baseball but not as good as soccer. Some high school kids take over the basketball hoop. We try soccer with Todd's basketball but when we kick it there's a loud thump, our feet sting and the basketball doesn't go very far. Then the school security guy kicks everybody out.
We walk down the alley. I find a long rusty strip of metal. We go to my yard to make a catapult out of the metal strip and some wood. I show him how to fold paper into a cube that holds water. We make three of the cubes so we can shoot them. We brace our catapult against the edge of the sidewalk in front. I can see the old spy watching us out of his window but the catapult isn't even aimed at his house. The cubes fly across the street. Splat! They land on the sidewalk. We need more ammunition but the cubes take too long to make. We go to the 7-Eleven and Todd buys little balloons. We fill them with water. We shoot them all the way across the street. Todd says “Cool, Dude” each time a balloon flies off the catapult.
“Hey, look, here comes a target,” Todd yells. Two kids from Mr. Unger's smart kids' class are riding their bikes down my street. We duck down. We wait until they're close. We shoot two water balloons real fast. One balloon splashes in front of them; the other hits the back kid in the leg. “Gotcha!” yells Todd, jumping up. I jump up too. They see us and ride away fast.
Todd runs across the street to grab one of the balloons. It didn't break when it hit. I get him in the back while he's leaning over. He throws his balloon at me but he misses because a car goes by. He hits the car. Screech go the brakes. A guy jumps out. We run.
We run down to the corner and back through the alley. We see the guy drive away. I run to get the catapult. Whoosh! Something wet hits me right in the head. “Ha ha ha!” I hear. It's the smart kids. They took our catapult. They've got a plastic bag full of ammunition plus the stuff we left behind. Todd and me make a plan behind a parked car. I run and yell at them from across the street. They're busy shooting at me. Todd sneaks behind them and grabs our bag of ammunition. We peg them from across the street. Throwing's faster than using the catapult. They grab their ammunition and run for the alley. We hide in the alley behind some garbage cans and wait. They come sneaking along looking for us. We jump up from behind the cans and score direct hits. They come after us. We all run up and down the alley hiding behind garages and trash cans. We throw balloons whenever someone runs from their cover. Sometimes the balloon doesn't break. Then I throw their own ammunition back at them. I score more direct hits.
We run out of ammunition so we all go back to my yard. My grandma taps on the window. I go see what she wants. She gives me a big plate of spring rolls and cans of soda to take to the guys in the backyard. Everybody likes the spring rolls. We try to see who can eat the most hot sauce. The smart kids' names are Gil and Martin. I run inside to get my Halloween candy. It was fun to get it but I don't like to eat most of it. I dump it out on the stairs for them.
“You still have Halloween candy?” They sort through the pile. They eat some.
“Who's Brom Bones?” I ask. They shake their heads. Then Gil looks up.
“I know who he is,” he says. “He's in a book about a guy who scares a schoolteacher by making it look like his head's cut off. He puts a scary-looking pumpkin on his head.”
Great! “He scares a schoolteacher?” I ask to be sure.
“Yeah, the teacher runs right out of town and is never seen again.” I decide I'll be Brom Bones next Halloween too.
I think of showing them Cat and her kittens but I don't because I know the old man is watching us. He might find out about her even if we all go through the side window. Besides, I think the other guys are too big to get through. Gil's got some cards. We play cards sitting on the stairs. Everyone has different rules. Todd and Gil and Martin have to go home because it's getting late.
I don't want the day to end. The battle with the balloons was so cool and being with those guys having fun instead of being in school was like the Philippines. I used to think that it would always be different in America. I never see Thuy and Lin and Vuong messing around with friends. I don't want to go just sit inside now so I walk down to the Mexican guy's house when I see him out in front. I hold a flashlight for him while we look far down in the truck engine. Once he has me reach in and turn a metal thing. He can't reach it because his hands are too big. His wife calls him in to answer the telephone so I go home.
“Du, Du,” Lin is yelling from the back door. I've been up for hours. I visited Cat and her kittens. I fed her. I watched TV. I ran over to school to see if anyone was playing basketball. I helped some guys start a car by pushing it down the street. I
did some other stuff and Lin and Thuy and Vuong just got up. They're the lazy ones.
“Yeah, sleepyhead,” I say like Mrs. Dorfman. Lin jumps because she didn't see me right next to the back porch.
“Mom says you should take all the cans to the recycle place today,” Lin says.
“Did she say me?” I ask quickly. They always give me the bad jobs.
“Yes, you. She said whoever wasn't doing anything and that's you.”
“You're sleeping. That isn't doing anything,” I answer.
“Thuy and me are going to the library and Vuong's gotta go to the market so that leaves you.” Once I was really bored and I went with Thuy and Lin to the library. They sat at a big table with their friends and whispered all day. I got more bored there. When I started fixing the bulletin board better the lady behind the desk got mad. I won't go to the market because I don't want to walk down the street pushing that old rattly cart we got. If kids from school see me they'll laugh. I left it once when I saw some kids coming and when I went back some of the stuff was gone. So I have to take the recycle cans.
I like squashing the cans. I do it on the front sidewalk. I jump high and land on them. I have to wear shoes or it hurts too much.
I don't like walking down the street with a big plastic bag full of squashed cans. I hope no one sees me.
“Dude, hey, wait up.” It's Todd.
“Hi,” I say when he rides up. “I gotta go recycle these for my sister.” At least he'll know it's not for me.
“Yeah,” he says. “I had to do it yesterday.” I'm surprised. I didn't know American kids did this. I thought they just threw everything away and bought more.
The Trouble Begins Page 12
