by jeff brown
The Flying Chinese
Wonders
CREATED BY Jeff Brown
WRITTEN BY Josh Greenhut
PICTURES BY Macky Pamintuan
CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Chapter 1 - Unlucky Day
Chapter 2 - “Knee How”
Chapter 3 - Chinese Food
Chapter 4 - Learning to Fly
Chapter 5 - To Beijing
Chapter 6 - The Lucky One
Chapter 7 - In Balance
Chapter 8 - Small Wonders
Also By Jeff Brown
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Copyright
About the Author
About the Publisher
Chapter 1
Unlucky Day
The fact that Stanley Lambchop was flat did not mean he enjoyed being treated like a poster.
Stanley trudged back and forth outside the school auditorium with two giant pieces of cardboard covering the front and back of his body. Both sides read:
THE FLYING CHINESE WONDERS!
A CHINESE NEW YEAR PERFORMANCE
FOR THE WHOLE COMMUNITY
People streamed inside. A beefy boy from Stanley’s class called out, “Look, it’s the poster boy for flat kids!”
Stanley grimaced. He hoped no one else would notice him.
“Well, hello there, Stanley Lamb-chop!” It was Doctor Dan, whom Stanley had visited just after he was flattened. It wasn’t long ago that he’d woken up to find that his bulletin board had fallen on him in the middle of the night. “Helping out with the big performance, are we? Well, good for you for making positive use of an unusual condition!”
How embarrassing, Stanley thought.
After Doctor Dan left to take his seat, Stanley’s family appeared. “My little star!” squealed his mother, Harriet Lambchop.
Stanley tried to smile as she kissed the edge of his head.
His little brother, Arthur, rolled his eyes. “He’s not even in the show, Mom.”
“Now, Arthur,” Mrs. Lambchop said, “those behind the scenes are just as important as those onstage.”
“And nobody is behind the scenes like our Stanley.” Mr. Lambchop winked. Stanley sighed. He’d always liked being in plays. Now, all anyone wanted him to do was move the sets, because his shape made him hard to see when he crossed the stage.
“I’m not even moving scenery today,” Stanley grumbled.
“Why not?” asked Mr. Lambchop.
“Are you in charge of the giant pandas?” said Mrs. Lambchop hopefully. “They have always been my favorite wonders from China!”
“No.” Stanley pouted. “There aren’t any pandas. The spotlight blew a fuse, so . . .” He held up a giant flashlight from behind his poster. “I have to hang upside down from the ceiling with this.”
“Hey, Stanley,” called his friend Carlos, who lived next door to the Lambchops. “Don’t break a leg!”
Stanley’s mother chuckled. “He means, ‘Break a leg,’ dear. That’s a common figure of speech in the theater. It means good luck!” Harriet Lambchop took great interest in the proper use of the English language.
“I don’t think so, Mom,” said Arthur. “I think Carlos meant, ‘Don’t fall from the ceiling and break your leg.’”
“Be quiet, Arthur,” huffed Stanley.
Once everyone was seated, Stanley took his place. He hung with his lower body rolled around a bar high over the crowd.
It’s not fair! he thought. Why do I have to save the day any time somebody needs something flat or flexible?
On the one hand, Stanley’s new shape allowed him to do lots of fun and exciting things, like fit between the walls of an Egyptian pyramid and be a cape in a Mexican bullfight. On the other hand, he was often asked to do uncomfortable, humiliating, and boring things that would never be expected of a rounded person. For instance, he was rolled and tied to the back of a horse in South Dakota and forced to ride with baggage in the cargo hold of an airplane to Africa.
Stanley didn’t want to hang high in the air holding a heavy flashlight. He didn’t even know what to expect onstage. The performers had arrived only moments before the show was about to begin.
The lights went down. With a sigh, Stanley lifted his flashlight and flicked it on as the curtains squeaked open.
In the center of the bare stage stood a teenage boy and girl. They wore matching red outfits.
“Lucky people of America!” A Chinese man in a tuxedo stepped onto the stage. “All the way from the People’s Republic of China, we bring to you . . . the Flying Chinese Wonders!”
A few people clapped as Stanley moved like a spotlight back and forth between the two performers. They bowed slowly.
This is going to be even worse than I thought, figured Stanley.
Then, in a flash, the boy and girl shot into the air. Flipping high over the stage, they grabbed hands and flattened their bodies, spinning around each other like a sputtering propeller headed straight for the ground. Stanley held his breath as the human propeller spun faster and faster, its descent slowing until finally it hovered a few feet off the ground. They planted their feet and faced the audience with their arms raised in the air. The entire auditorium erupted with applause.
Stanley couldn’t believe it! The Flying Chinese Wonders were amazing! They swooped and sailed through the air. They twisted and flipped and spun like tops. Together, they became a dragon, a comet, and a fish on a trampoline. Sometimes, Stanley could not tell where the first Wonder began and the other ended.
Their bodies can do anything! Stanley thought. His flashlight raced to keep up.
For their grand finale, the Flying Chinese Wonders connected head to toe, puffed out their chests to form a circle, and rolled around the stage. When they came to a stop, each held out an arm and a leg. The giant circle had become the sun.
It was the greatest thing Stanley had ever seen! He shouted, whooped, and clapped his—
Stanley’s heart plummeted as he watched the giant flashlight drop from his hands.
CRAAASH!
The Flying Chinese Wonders looked up in alarm. Their circle shook . . . and collapsed to the floor in a heap.
Chapter 2
“Knee How”
Stanley led Doctor Dan to the dressing room backstage. The girl acrobat opened the door, and Doctor Dan rushed in and bent over the boy acrobat, who was stretched out on a table.
Stanley tried to make himself invisible by pressing himself against the wall. It didn’t work.
The girl Chinese Wonder studied Stanley’s face.
“You are like art,” she marveled, “yet your eyes move!”
“I’m flat,” whispered Stanley.
The girl looked impressed. “I would like to be flat! I am Yin,” she continued. “That is my twin brother, Yang.”
“I’m Stanley and I’m sorry!” blurted Stanley. “I was hanging from the ceiling being the spotlight and I dropped the flashlight!”
The girl’s eyes widened. Yang sat up from the table. He blinked.
“Yin, do you see a turnip cake shaped like a boy?”
“Yes, brother.”
“Good,” Yang said and lay back down. “I thought the pain was tricking my mind.”
Doctor Dan cleared his throat. “Young man, I’m afraid you have a broken foot.”
“No!” Yin gasped.
“Impossible,” said Yang, sitting up again. “The Flying Chinese Wonders have never been injured.”
“I’m sorry,” said Doctor Dan. “If it makes you feel better, Stanley here had never been flat before. But then one day he visited me and he was only half an inch thick. Your foot will take at least six weeks to heal.”
Yin’s eyes wel
led with tears. “Doctor . . .” She gulped. “We are to perform in Beijing for the culmination of the Chinese New Year festivities in two weeks! It is to be our biggest and most important performance ever!”
“I’m sorry,” said Doctor Dan. “I know it’s disappointing, but you’ll have to cancel. I’d better go get a splint for this foot.”
After Doctor Dan left, Yin went over to her brother, took his hand, and kneeled beside him. Neither of them looked at Stanley.
“This is all my fault,” Stanley said quietly. Then he folded himself to the ground and buried his face in his knees.
After a moment, Yang spoke. “Confucius said, ‘Our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in getting up every time we do.’ Get up, sister. Get up, Turnip Cake. The Flying Chinese Wonders have never missed a performance, and they will not now.”
“But how, brother?” said Yin. “How can you perform with a broken foot?”
“I will not,” Yang said solemnly. “Turnip Cake will.”
“But, brother—!”
“I’m not an acrobat,” said Stanley.
“Are you flexible?” said Yang.
Stanley shrugged. “I once went down Niagara Falls wrapped around somebody like a barrel,” he offered.
“Are you strong?”
“I did keep Abraham Lincoln’s nose from breaking off Mount Rushmore.”
“Are you determined?”
“I recently walked halfway across Mexico to get a recipe for my mom,” said Stanley.
“Then you will learn,” said Yang.
Stanley looked at Yin. She nodded in approval.
Stanley imagined himself standing atop the Great Wall of China, and a smile spread across his face.
“I’ll do my best,” he promised.
Four days later, Stanley was sorted and loaded for special delivery deep in the Shaanxi province of China. He could feel the wheels of a bicycle carrying his envelope along a craggy road.
Eventually, the wheels came to a stop, and Stanley’s envelope was torn open. Yin’s face peeked inside.
“Hello, Stanley,” she said with a grin. “Welcome to China!”
“Knee how!” cried Stanley. He hopped out and stretched his legs.
“You hurt your knee?” she said in a panic.
“Knee how,” repeated Stanley. “Isn’t that how you say ‘hello’ in Mandarin?”
“Of course!” said Yin. “Ni hao!”
“So Turnip Cake has come at last.” Yang had appeared from the next room, with his broken foot lifted a few inches off the ground. Instead of hopping, he simply wiggled his good foot, and it slid along the floor.
“You don’t need crutches?” said Stanley in amazement. It looked almost like Yang was on a conveyor belt.
“I am a Flying Chinese Wonder,” answered Yang. “I don’t need two feet to walk.”
“How do you feel after your trip?” asked Yin.
Stanley wanted to be a polite guest, but he also believed in honesty. “I’m starving,” he admitted.
Without hesitation, Yin and Yang exchanged looks, tossed coats to each other through the air, and spun Stanley back out the front door.
Chapter 3
Chinese Food
The restaurant was crowded with people, but there was no food on the round tables, apart from a tiny steaming bowl of tea in front of each person. Stanley suddenly realized: Everyone had been waiting for him.
There was a hush as the oldest-looking woman Stanley had ever seen—older, even, than Carlos’s grandmother in Mexico—struggled to her feet at the other side of the room.
Yin whispered in Stanley’s ear. “Great Grandmother Yin would like to wish you luck before you begin your training.”
Stanley was about to walk over, but Yang stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
The ancient woman slowly straightened her back, raised her shaking hands from the back of a chair . . . and launched herself into the air. She flipped onto the nearest table, and then did handsprings from one table to another, all the way around the room. She failed to disturb a single cup of tea before landing right in front of Stanley and giving him a toothless smile.
Stanley was stunned. The old woman giggled, grabbed him by the sides of his stomach, and shook him. He couldn’t help laughing as his head and feet swung back and forth through the air . . . and then, suddenly, his body made a low rhythmic sound as the air rushed around him.
Stanley didn’t know his body could do that!
Yin and Yang and their family roared with laughter.
Everybody waited to fill their plates until Yin and Yang’s grandparents and great grandparents were served. Then, as all of the relatives chattered and slurped and ate, Stanley carefully adjusted his chopsticks and tried to pick up a piece of food.
Instead, one of the chopsticks tilted like a seesaw, and the piece landed in Yang’s soup with a splash.
Yang put down his own chopsticks. “It is time for Turnip Cake’s first lesson,” he announced.
Yin nodded in agreement. “Let’s start with an ancient feat of balance and skill!” Stanley leaned closer. “Holding—”
“—A pencil,” finished Yang.
Stanley rolled his eyes. “I already know how to do that,” he said, holding one of his chopsticks like a pencil and moving it up and down.
“You are very skilled,” teased Yang.
“Now, do you see the cradle formed by your thumb and first finger?” asked Yin. “That is where the other, sleeping chopstick lies its head. Its leg rests on your fourth finger. Look, it does not move! It only sleeps.”
Stanley slipped the second chopstick into its cradle.
Lifting his bowl, Stanley used the first chopstick to trap a piece of food against the one resting below it. He carefully lifted the food to his mouth and dropped it in.
It worked! Stanley immediately tried again.
“Turnip Cake learns fast,” Yang commented, as Stanley flung one thing after another into his mouth.
Stanley tried lots of new things—rice with meat cooked in a leaf; spicy pork and vegetables; even turnip cake, which was surprisingly jiggly. But his favorite dish of all was a local specialty: biang biang noodles, which were almost as flat and wide as he was.
As Yin and Yang’s aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, and great grandparents filed by his table to say good-bye, Stanley was so full, he almost didn’t feel flat. He couldn’t understand a word anyone said, but they all seemed very friendly. Great Grandmother Yin made music by shaking his sides one more time before hobbling out the door.
Soon, Yin, Yang, and Stanley were the only ones left. It was getting late, and Stanley was tired.
But then, out of nowhere, a squinting old man with three long white hairs sprouting from his chin appeared at the table.
“Hello, young ones,” wheezed the man in English. “Hello, Flattened Stanley.”
“Hello, Great Uncle Yang,” said Yin. “We did not see you.”
“I have been hiding behind the teapots,” said Great Uncle Yang.
Stanley was speechless. Finally, he forced himself to say, “How do you do?”
“With a great deal of practice,” the old man replied. “As you can see, teapots are very small.”
“Great Uncle Yang is a contortionist!” explained Yin. “He can twist himself into many unusual positions.”
“Your body must be very flexible,” marveled Stanley.
“No more flexible than yours,” the man said with a smile. “But my mind bends farther.”
Stanley’s forehead crinkled as he tried to figure out what that meant. He decided to change the subject. “Yang has the same name as you.”
Yin laughed. “Many in our family are named Yin and Yang,” she explained. “Our ancestors have been known throughout China for centuries.”
“It was my sister Yin who greeted you,” said the old man.
“Great Grandmother Yin is your sister?!” Stanley gasped.
Great Uncle Yang chuckled to himself. The
n he fixed Stanley with a powerful stare. “You cannot have Yin without Yang. Understand?”
Stanley looked at him blankly.
“Yin and Yang are not only our names. They are words that describe the sacred balance of nature! There is no day without night. There is no hot without cold.” He looked from Yin—“There is no tempest”—to Yang—“without calm. And there is no flat without—” His voice trailed off suddenly.
“Thick?” Stanley offered.
“Fat,” suggested Yin.
“Round,” tried Yang.
“Without not flat,” Great Uncle Yang finished. “Yin and yang mean ‘opposing forces in balance.’
“This, Flattened Stanley, is why you are here,” the man said. “You keep them in balance. There are only ten days left before the Flying Chinese Wonders are to perform in the Forbidden City. All three of you have much to learn and much to teach. Are you ready?”
The three of them nodded.
“Begin with Mount Huashan,” said Great Uncle Yang. Then he whisked a napkin from the table, shook it, and disappeared into thin air.
Chapter 4
Learning to Fly
The next day, Stanley pressed his back against the face of Mount Huashan. Slowly, he inched along the narrow walkway.
“Come on!” called Yin from up ahead.
Yang whizzed by Stanley’s face doing a one-legged cartwheel. “Let’s go, Turnip Cake!”
Stanley made the mistake of looking down. The bottom of the valley was nearly six thousand feet below.
Terrified, he looked up again, only to find that he had come to the end of the walkway. Yin and Yang were nowhere to be seen.
Stanley looked around in a panic. He found the twins overhead, swiftly climbing a thick iron chain that reached up the mountain.
