Stanford Wong Flunks Big-Time

by Lisa Yee

  “Good-bye, Millicent. Good-bye, Stanford,” Mrs. Martinez’s voice trails after us.

  I am going to see Yin-Yin. When I near her room I hear voices. I can tell it’s not Mr. Thistlewaite. This voice is much softer. I push the door open.

  “Stanford!” Millicent’s grandmother jumps up and hooks her arm through mine. “Yin-Yin, this handsome boy is going to walk me to my car. I’ll send him back once I start burning rubber.”

  Yin-Yin laughs. “Go on …” She waves us away.

  It takes a long time to get out of the building, since Maddie stops and passes out dim sum to every person she comes across. Everyone seems to know her.

  “Where did you get that?” I ask, pointing to the shu mai.

  Maddie grins mischievously. “Your grandmother and I made it. Ramon has such a lovely kitchen. Although I did have to move some things around to give it the proper feng shui treatment.”

  We near Maddie’s car, an old Dodge Dart. It looks cool, like something I wouldn’t mind driving when I’m old enough.

  “How are you doing?” Maddie asks as she digs through her giant purse for her keys.

  Why are grown-ups always so interested in how I am doing? “Fine,” I say.

  “Are things going all right between you and Millicent?”

  “Millicent is a big double-crossing spaz,” I start to tell her. Then I remember that Millicent is her granddaughter and she probably doesn’t want to hear stuff like that. So instead I answer, “Everything’s fine.”

  “You probably already know that I’m going to London for a while,” Maddie says. I didn’t know that. “Most likely, Millie will be lonely when I’m away. Maybe you could call her sometime. Go bowling or something.”

  Oh right. Millicent Min bowling. That would be good for a laugh.

  “Bowling,” I say, pretending to think about it. “Sure thing, Maddie. What are you going to do in London?”

  Maddie clears her throat and announces, “I’m going to harness the positive energy flow of the masses by studying the ancient Chinese philosophy of feng shui, and then bring it back to Rancho Rosetta.”

  I stare blankly at her.

  “Okay,” Maddie confesses. “The truth is, I’m going to Fenwick and Feldie’s Feng Shui Academy in London. I figure I can visit Europe and at the same time learn why putting a sofa in a certain place will ward off evil spirits. Feng shui’s a really big business these days.

  “Yin-Yin thinks it’s ridiculous,” Maddie goes on. “Instead of placing her well-being and safety in the hands of the elements, she’d rather do things like put dog food out to trick burglars into thinking there’s a German shepherd in the house. But then, you know your Yin-Yin, she’s got lots of interesting ideas!”

  I watch the cars pass for a moment, then ask, “Maddie, you know all those stories Yin-Yin’s been telling lately? Are they true? Like the one about her dancing in a Broadway show?”

  “Do you think they are?”

  “Not totally.”

  Maddie eases herself onto a bench near her car. “Your Yin-Yin was a very adventurous young woman, Stanford. Would you like to hear about some of her adventures?”

  I sit as Maddie sets aside the dim sum and begins her story.

  “Yin-Yin and I were spirited girls. Strong-willed is the word they use today. We zigged when everyone else zagged. We told people what we thought, and we knew how to have fun.

  “We each had a dream. I was going to change the world, make it a better place. Your grandmother was going to become a pilot and fly through the clouds. She was heaven and I was earth, we used to joke.”

  “A pilot? Yin-Yin wanted to be a pilot?” I always thought she wanted to fly like a bird. “A pilot?” I say again.

  “A pilot,” Maddie assures me. “There were not that many women pilots back in those days. There still aren’t. But that didn’t stop Yin-Yin.

  “She read everything she could about Amelia Earhart and even found a flight school that agreed to take her. She was close to getting her pilot’s license.

  “Unfortunately, her parents had other ideas. While my parents were happy to let me fight my battles and support my causes, hers felt that the best thing they could do for their daughter was secure her future. That meant marrying her off to a man who would take care of her.”

  “An arranged marriage,” I murmur.

  Maddie nods. “Because your grandfather was older, he wanted kids right away. He expected her to stay home, as most women did in those days. So she set her dreams aside and took on new ones, of being the best wife she could be, of being the best mother and then grandmother.

  “As for dancing on Broadway or dining with the queen of England, those are things we talked about. We just never got around to it, though I still might give it a try.” Maddie winks at me and then grows serious. “Stanford, have your parents talked to you about what’s happening to Yin-Yin?”

  I shake my head.

  “Your grandmother may seem different to you these days because she is living in the past as well as the present. Like many people who keep secrets, Yin-Yin kept her dreams hidden close to her heart. Now that she is getting older, she can’t hold on to them as tightly as she used to. Her dreams are seeping out. Her mind is taking her on the adventures she never had a chance to take in real life.”

  “So she’s lying?”

  “A lie is when you tell someone something that you know is not true. Yin-Yin really believes her stories. Sometimes her mind plays tricks on her. When people are depressed that can happen.” Maddie adds softly, “I know.”

  She perks up and pats me on the back. “Try not to worry too much. Your grandmother is in good physical health. And Vacation Village is a great place for her. They know how to exercise her mind as well as her body. Yin-Yin is in better spirits than I have seen in a long time!

  “Stanford,” she continues, “these so-called stories Yin-Yin tells may seem outrageous. Yet to me, it doesn’t matter if they really happened or not, if they make her feel good. So if telling tales makes her happy, then I am all for it. What harm is there?

  “I know this is hard for you to understand, but I would encourage you to listen to your grandmother. She is quite a storyteller, and as with any great storyteller, she likes an appreciative audience.

  “Now then,” Maddie says, standing up and smoothing the front of her skirt. “I’d better get going. I have a protest to organize. They are considering turning Main Street into four lanes, and we can’t have that, can we?”

  Before I can answer, Maddie has disappeared. I am so mixed up. When exactly did the world get so complicated? As I watch the Dodge Dart chug away, I notice something. I pick up the plate of dim sum and call after her, but it’s too late. Maddie is gone.

  I look down at the plate. There is only one shu mai left. I pick it up and eat it. No sense in it going to waste.

  AUGUST 23, 12:01 A.M.

  Mom and Dad are arguing again. I am in my room furiously working on my Stress Mess and listening to Lavender. I have called Emily’s house twice today, which is once more than yesterday.

  “People who need people are the luckiest people in the world,” Lavender advises a distraught listener.

  I need people, but I sure don’t feel lucky. Mom and Dad are probably headed toward a divorce. Digger’s probably going to tell the Roadrunners I’m a big fake. Now that I’m not even turning in my homework, I’m probably going to fail English and the sixth grade. Then I’m going to get kicked off the A-Team and everyone will know that I’m a nobody. Or worse than a nobody: I’m a nobody who was pretending he was somebody. Not only won’t I be able to play in the Hee-Haw Game, I’ll probably be the kid who has to clean up when it’s over. I’d be better off running away before the game begins.

  Hey … maybe that’s not such a bad idea. In The Mixed-Up Files those kids run away and solve a big mystery, and in The Outsiders Johnny and Ponyboy run away and save some children’s lives. Maybe I will do that a
nd be some sort of hero and then everything will turn out okay.

  I’ll need money. Dad’s always got money in his wallet, and Mom has so many credit cards she won’t notice one missing. I can hide out at Ronster’s Monster RV World. There are millions of RVs there, I’ll bet I can sleep in a different one every night for a year. Oh man, this is going to be great. I’ll buy lots of food so I don’t have to cook, and I’ll get tons of Oreos, and no one will tell me to “stop eating those or you’ll get sick.”

  When my parents find out I’m gone they’re going to go bonkers. Mom will cry and Dad will feel totally guilty. They will be so worried they will fall into each other’s arms and swear never to argue again. Then Dad will go on television and announce to the whole world, “Stanford Wong was the best son a father could have. I was a jerk to ignore him. I only wish I had been at every single one of his basketball games to cheer him on. Stanford, son, come home and I swear I will be a better dad if you’ll just forgive me!”

  It’s settled. I am going to run away. No one will notice anyway. Well, Yin-Yin will miss me. Wait! I know: I will take Yin-Yin with me! After all, she made me promise to help her run away. She can teach me how to drive. Oh, that’s good! It’ll be just like in Dad’s favorite movie, Easy Rider, with me and Yin-Yin traveling all over the country, meeting people and having the best time being rebels.

  Maddie said that Yin-Yin liked adventure, so I’m going to take her on one. I’ll just need a little time to prepare.

  AUGUST 26, 12:14 A.M.

  Mom is asleep in Sarah/Yin-Yin’s room. Dad’s conked out on the couch. The television is on. A happy lady takes a bite of turkey jerky. “You made this?” she shrieks, turning to a man wearing an apron. “This tastes so good and costs only pennies a serving! Amazing!”

  She seems like a nice lady. I’ll bet she has a good life and no one in her family fights.

  I’ve had three days to plan. I check to make sure I have all my supplies. I’ve got $114 from my savings, Mom’s purse, and Dad’s wallet. When I opened his wallet, I stared at a photo he had tucked away. It was a picture of me when I was about five. I suppose I wasn’t as much trouble when I was five.

  In my backpack I’ve got a flashlight, hair gel, and The Outsiders. I make sure to take plenty of food: Oreos for me, Sugar Babies for Yin-Yin, and six cans of tuna. I grab a couple of cold sodas from the fridge. When I shut the door, my F book report taunts me for the last time. I finished my Holes book report this afternoon. It’s pretty good. I’ll mail it in from the road.

  12:48 A.M.

  The security guard in the lobby of Vacation Village is snoring so loud I’m surprised he doesn’t wake himself up. This is going to be a lot easier than I thought. I sneak up the stairs so the elevator will not disturb him. Even though it is after midnight, all the lights in the hallways are on and the glare hurts my eyes.

  As I tiptoe past the rooms I hear televisions blaring. I thought old people liked to go to bed early.

  Softly I knock on Yin-Yin’s door. There is no answer, so I turn the knob slowly and push. She is asleep. The only light is from the full moon hanging outside the window.

  “Yin-Yin, wake up,” I whisper. “Wake up.”

  Her eyes fly open. She looks scared. “It’s just me, Stanford,” I quickly assure her. “It’s okay.”

  “Who …?” She squints and then reaches for her glasses. “Stanford?” She sounds confused. “Is everything all right? What are you doing here at this hour?”

  I drop my backpack on the floor and sit on the side of her bed. “I’m going to get you out of here, Yin-Yin. We’re going to break out of this joint and run away! Come on, get your things.”

  I stash some of her photos in my backpack and try to force her Family Reunion birdhouse in it, but it won’t fit.

  Yin-Yin has not moved. Maybe she doesn’t understand how serious I am about this. “What’s wrong?” I ask. “Didn’t you hear what I said? We’re getting out of here. C’mon, hurry before we get caught.”

  “Stanford,” my grandmother says slowly. “I don’t think we should be doing this.” Slowly I turn around to face her. “I probably need to stay here,” she says. “I’m not always myself these days.”

  “That’s not true,” I insist. “How can a person not be themselves?”

  But then I remember Family Night at my dad’s office. I had been forced to get a dork haircut and wear a starched white shirt and blue blazer. When I lumbered out of my room, my mother cried, “Oh, Stanford, you look so nice, I hardly recognize you!” Dad slapped me on the back and said, “Now this is a Stanford Wong I’d like to get to know better.” They were actually happy that I didn’t look like myself.

  “Yin-Yin, remember when you were young and wanted to fly but couldn’t? When we get out of here, we can do whatever we want, whenever we want. We won’t have to follow anyone’s rules. Don’t you want to run away?”

  My grandmother gets out of bed and leads me to the couch. “Stanford,” she says calmly, “let’s think this through.”

  “I have! I’ve thought of everything. Look!” I show her the contents of my backpack.

  Yin-Yin spies the Sugar Babies and signals for me to give her a box. When I hand her the candy, she wraps her hands around mine. “If you’re doing this for me, stop. It’s not so bad here, Stanford. Not as bad as I first thought. They take good care of me and I’ve made some nice friends.”

  “Like Mr. Thistlewaite,” I guess.

  A small smile appears. “Yes, there’s Mr. Thistlewaite and some others, like Ramon. You remember Ramon. He’s quite a good cook, even if he underspices.”

  “No, no, no,” I insist. “Yin-Yin, you’ve always wanted to fly and be free, remember? We can be free together!”

  Yin-Yin releases my hands and takes the Sugar Babies from me. As she opens the box, she says, “Yes, that is true. But sometimes knowing you can be free is just as good as being free.”

  Huh? I don’t understand. Maybe she is crazy.

  “Stanford, look around the room. See these birdhouses?” I nod. “Even birds who fly free like to have a place they can call home. These days, Vacation Village is my home. I am safe here. I know who I am here.”

  “So you’re not going with me,” I say dully.

  “No, Stanford, I am not.” She doesn’t sound like a free spirit; she sounds like a grown-up. “I really think that running away is not going to solve your problems.”

  “Who says I have problems?”

  Yin-Yin puts down her Sugar Babies. “Come here,” she says. She hugs me. It feels so good to be hugged. I start to cry on her shoulder and keep crying for so long and so loudly that it sounds like there is a donkey in the room. I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. The more I cry, the better I feel. Is this why little kids cry all the time? Suddenly the door opens.

  “Everything okay?” asks one of the Vacation Village ladies.

  “Fine, just fine,” Yin-Yin says, motioning her away.

  “Mrs. Wong, you know that visiting hours ended a long time ago.”

  “Yes, yes, we know that,” my grandmother assures her.

  The lady looks at me, still hugging Yin-Yin. She nods and closes the door softly.

  “Stanford, I want you to go now. I want you to go home; it’s where you belong. It might not seem like it right now, but things will work out. Promise me you will not run away.”

  I dry my tears on my sleeve, kiss my grandmother, and take the birdhouse and her photos out of my backpack.

  “I promise not to run away.”

  Before I go, I put all the boxes of Sugar Babies on her bed. I slip her a couple of cans of tuna too in case she gets hungry.

  “Thank you, Stanford,” Yin-Yin says. “You’re a good boy.”

  1:30 A.M.

  When I get home, Mom and Dad are sitting silent in the living room. My dad looks angry. My mom looks sad. The TV is muted and the turkey jerky lady is still smiling. This time she is marveling over mops t
hat can clean the ceiling.

  “Stanford Andrew Wong …,” my father says, rising from his chair.

  “Rick …,” my mother warns him.

  He sits back down. Dad starts to say something, but Mom cuts him off. “I’ll handle this.” She turns to me. “Yin-Yin called us.”

  I can’t believe Yin-Yin would do that to me!

  “Why, Stanford? Why did you run away?” I shrug my shoulders. “Is it something we said? Something we did?”

  How can I tell them that it is something they did not do? They did not stay in love. How can I tell them it is because Emily hates me? They don’t even know who Emily is. How can I tell them I will probably flunk English and disappoint them yet again? How can I tell them anything?

  I wish there was someone I could talk to who wouldn’t tell me what to do or how to act or how to feel. I wish I knew someone who just liked me for myself and didn’t expect things from me that I can’t deliver.

  “I’m tired,” I grunt. “I want to go to bed.”

  “Young man!” my father begins in his low voice.

  “Don’t use that tone with Stanford,” my mother orders him.

  For once, my father does what she tells him. He softens. “Stanford,” he says. “Stay. Talk to us.” I turn around. My father is asking me to talk to him?

  “Please,” my mother pleads.

  I look at them both and finally ask the question that has been hanging over my head. “Are you guys getting a divorce?”

  They both look startled. Neither speaks. They keep looking at each other.

  Finally Dad asks, “Whatever made you ask that?” He sounds nervous.

  “Well, you and Mom are always fighting, and you stay away from home all the time. And you’re always mad, so I just thought you’d be happier without us.”

  For once my father is at a loss for words. He looks like I have just punched him. He turns to my mom. She shakes her head and says, “Talk to him.”

  “Is that what you think? That I’m mad all the time?”

  “That’s what he said, isn’t it?” Mom answers.

  “I’m asking Stanford, not you,” he tells her. I wonder if they are going to start fighting again. “Stanford?”