Cilla Lee-Jenkins--This Book Is a Classic

by Susan Tan

  Which I think means she appreciates all the work I’m doing for her.

  Which was a nice kind of change.

  6

  SPRING BREAK REFLECTIONS

  My mom always tells me to slow down.

  She says I can get carried away, and that I do something called jumping to conclusions and overreacting and not paying attention.

  But I know that none of this is true.

  Because I pay attention to LOTS of things, like I notice whenever Colleen wears her favorite blue skirt with galaxies on it (if she can’t be an Olympic soccer player, her backup plan is an astronaut). Or, more recently, whenever Melissa Hernandez does something else in her Evil Plot to take Colleen. Like when she whispers something to Colleen in class, and Colleen laughs. Or when I ask Colleen if Melissa’s been to her house again, and that funny look comes over Colleen’s face, and it feels like she doesn’t want to talk and we don’t know what to say. Which I think means that Melissa’s Evil Plot is working and Colleen is keeping things from me and doesn’t want me to know that Melissa’s winning her over.

  This isn’t jumping to a conclusion—it’s being observant and seeing the whole story and filling in the rest.

  Which are all skills that every good writer needs.

  * * *

  Right now, we’re on spring break. Colleen’s away visiting her grandma and grandpa, which is sad because she’s not here but nice because I get a break from worrying that she and Melissa are having playdates without me.

  So far, I’ve been doing A LOT in my plan to be the best best friend ever. I’ve been laughing extra loudly at Colleen’s jokes and I always have a new story to tell her when I get on the bus. I even asked Alien-Face McGee about Melissa at recess on the day before break, when Melissa and Colleen were playing kickball (again!). But that was a bit strange, and I don’t think he understood what was going on. Because when I asked, “What do you think of Melissa?” he said, “I dunno.” He was hanging off the edge of the slide, kicking the ground with his feet. “She’s nice.”

  “Sure,” I said. “But are her stories good? Is she funny? How many shadow puppets can she make with just her hands? Is she real best friend material?”

  “Um,” he said. “I don’t know. Do you want me to go and ask her?”

  “No.” I sighed.

  “Why are you asking all these questions?” he asked.

  “No reason.” I sighed again, Dramatically, because Drama is always useful in a story (even when it’s not all that fun).

  “Are you looking for another best friend?”

  “NO,” I said, crossing my arms. “I’m happy with just ONE. I don’t need any other best friends. Colleen is good enough for me, and all I want to do at recess is play with her.”

  “Oh,” he said. And the way he said it made me look at him funny, because he sounded kind of sad.

  I didn’t feel any better about Colleen and Melissa. And I didn’t think Alien-Face had understood the situation. Or what Melissa is trying to do. And I don’t get why he Changed the Subject quickly after that, or why he went to go play with Tim #1 a few minutes later.

  But Alien-Face seemed fine after recess. We waved goodbye before leaving for break, and he even promised he’d bring me back a pinecone from his camping trip.

  * * *

  My family also went on a trip, right at the start of the break. We went to visit Auntie Eva at her house, because it’s her birthday soon.

  The ride down took a looooong time, but it was fun. I kept waiting for unexpected moments and then saying “Gwendolyn, what are you!?” Because Destiny works in funny ways. But she’d just giggle, which isn’t helpful. But I did learn other things about Gwendolyn, like how “The Wheels on the Bus” is her favorite song. She wanted someone to sing it to her over and over, and every time the singing stopped, she’d start to Fuss. And she’d say, “Buh! Buh!” (which is almost a word, and also not “Cilla”). Then my mom would say, “I can’t stand it, not again.” But then Gwendolyn would start to cry, and my dad would sigh and say, “Ellen.” So my mom would make a huffing sound and say “Fine,” and then one of us would sing again.

  Auntie Eva lives in a big, beautiful house. It’s made of brick, and it’s attached to a row of other brick houses. But Auntie Eva’s house is the prettiest one. Her front porch has glass windows, and she’s hung little twinkling lights all around them, and there’s a big rocking chair with lots of pillows for sitting and reading and looking outside.

  I was disappointed, but also relieved, when I found out that Paul would be traveling the weekend we were there, so we wouldn’t meet him. Because that meant I’d have Auntie Eva all to myself, just like it’s always been.

  When we drove up, Auntie Eva was standing on the porch waving, like she always does. We brought our things in and took off our shoes and ordered takeout for dinner (which is always a very special treat). Afterward, she showed me the new triceratops puzzle she’d ordered just for me, and I started putting it together on the living room floor while my dad bounced Gwendolyn and he and my mom and Auntie Eva talked on the couch.

  It was a great puzzle. So I stopped paying attention to their conversation because I really wanted to make the triceratops’s face. And every once in a while, I’d hear Auntie Eva say things like “Yeah, it was a rough week at work. But it’s okay—I’m just tired” and “Oh, man, Paul’s dad really wants to have two kinds of cake, but I just don’t care” and “Mom wants me to go around and take pictures at every single table for each outfit change. Do you know how long that would take?”

  Until right as I was about to put together the triceratops’s tail, I heard a conversation that made me stop and pay attention.

  They were still talking about the wedding. And my mom said, “Just remember, this is your day. All that matters is you and Paul. Everyone else will deal.”

  “Yeah,” my dad said. “Also, the trick is knowing how to manage Mom. She can be a handful, but you just have to know how to keep her happy.”

  “That’s easy for you to say, big brother,” Auntie Eva said. “You’re the son—you just have to show up and be yourself and you’ll make Mom and Dad happy. I have to be perfect. And anytime I do something differently, Mom panics. Remember how she didn’t want me buying this house, because that would somehow make me less likely to find a husband?”

  “Yeah.” My mom sighed. “I didn’t quite get the logic there. I would’ve said yes to you so much sooner if you’d had a house like this,” she said to my dad with a joking look.

  “Good to know,” he said with a laugh. But then he said, more seriously, “You’re right, sis. I know you have it a lot harder. The old Traditions are hard to shake, I guess. They do it out of love, you know?”

  “I do.” Auntie Eva put a hand on my dad’s. “And, hey, once this wedding’s over, what else will they have to bug me about?”

  “Kids,” my mom and dad said at the same time.

  Just then Gwendolyn started to Fuss, and my mom said, “Right on cue,” and my dad said, “I think it’s time for bed, Cilla.”

  So I didn’t hear any more.

  And I wanted to know what kinds of Traditions they were talking about and what they had to do with Auntie Eva’s house.

  But my dad put Gwendolyn down for a second, and she crawled toward the puzzle pieces, and then I was distracted trying to pull the triceratops’s foot out of her mouth.

  So I didn’t ask.

  * * *

  Auntie Eva had lots of fun things planned for our trip. The next day we had breakfast at her favorite diner, and we squished into soft red booths and ate waffles. Then we went to a museum, where there were dinosaur skeletons and an exhibit on stars and planets. Auntie Eva and I took pictures next to the bones of a T. rex, and we pretended we were T. rexes too. And a few adults walked by us and gave Auntie Eva funny looks because we were both stomping around and making T. rex noises. But Auntie Eva didn’t care.

  We took a lot of silly photos that day, and my dad LOVED the ga
laxy exhibit. And in the gift shop, my mom said I could get some (very small) presents for my friends, so I got a small globe with the galaxy inside for Colleen. And, after a moment, I decided to get another small globe—this one with a dinosaur inside—for Alien-Face. Because I thought he’d really like it.

  When we got home, Auntie Eva and Gwendolyn and my dad all went to take a nap, because my dad says that’s what vacations are for. My mom and I sat on the couch to read our books. Gwendolyn didn’t nap for very long (she never does), and my dad brought her down soon, followed by Auntie Eva, who still looked very sleepy and who had a GIANT fluffy white bathrobe wrapped around her over her clothes.

  “Wow,” my dad said, raising his eyebrows. “Good look.”

  “I get cold easily.” Auntie Eva sniffed, and she frowned, but the corners of her mouth were turning up and her voice sounded like she was trying not to smile.

  “Plus it’ll make a great snow monster costume, if you ever need one,” I pointed out.

  “Yes! See?” she said to my dad. “I’m all set for Halloween.”

  “Oooh, and you could sew red eyes onto a white hat and put fake claws on white gloves, and you could wave your hands around when you roared, and it would be EXTRA scary!” I said, holding my arms out like a snow monster.

  “Amazing!” Auntie Eva said, holding her arms out like a snow monster too.

  “The family resemblance is uncanny,” my dad said, shaking his head.

  But Auntie Eva and I were too busy making snow monster sounds to respond. And my dad laughed at us, and it was a fun game.

  My mom and dad wanted to make Auntie Eva a special birthday dinner that night, so my mom began getting Gwendolyn’s coat on for a grocery store run.

  “Nathan and I will both go, so we can be quick,” my mom said, “and I don’t want to leave this one in your hair.”

  “Do I have to go?” I asked.

  “Cilla’s welcome to stay with me,” Auntie Eva said, trying not to yawn. “I’m still waking up, so I don’t know how much fun I’ll be.” She gave me a sleepy smile. “But we can hang out and have hot chocolate.”

  So then I had to jump up and down and be a happy snow monster, which was another excellent game.

  * * *

  Auntie Eva and I sat on the couch, drinking our hot chocolate. She was very quiet, though. For a minute, I worried I was being boring.

  But then she leaned her head back on the couch pillow and let out a small, happy sigh.

  “This is so nice, Cilla,” she said, turning to me with a smile. “I never get to just sit in the quiet. When I’m by myself I’m always working or running around with this wedding. And then when I’m with the rest of the family, I’m always on, or worried about what they’re thinking or what they need. I love that we can just sit together.”

  “Yeah.” I smiled back. “It is nice.”

  Auntie Eva sank back even more into the couch cushions.

  “Yeah,” she said. “You know, it’s so easy to get caught up in things, when you’re a grown-up. I just have to take a deep breath and step back from it all. Like all this wedding stuff. I know my mom is just trying to take care of me. And it’s always been hard for her, that I’m not as Traditional as she is. We fought a lot when I was younger. I wanted to be what I thought was ‘normal’—to be American, not Chinese. And I’ve changed a lot since then, but I think a lot of those old fights and feelings are coming up again.”

  “Oh,” I said. Then, “But … you like being Chinese, right?”

  “Of course.” Auntie Eva put her hand on mine. “Sorry, Cilla, I’m just tired and rambling. I love being Chinese. But there are lots of different ways to be Chinese. It’s not about what any one person thinks.”

  “Huh,” I said.

  This was a lot to think about. I had lots of questions, but I didn’t really know what they were. Or how to say them.

  So, instead, I scooched closer and put my head on her shoulder, and she put her head on mine.

  We sat there together, with our hot chocolate, and I could hear the kitchen clock ticking softly and the tree branches blowing in the wind outside.

  And just sitting, and stepping back, and being quiet was nice, and I paid attention to so many other things, like how Auntie Eva’s long white living room curtains swirl just a little where they touch the floor. And how Auntie Eva loves things that are simple and comfortable, like her giant fluffy white robe and her big chairs with giant pillows and the pile of blue-and-gray-striped blankets she keeps stacked neatly in the corner. And how Auntie Eva makes a tiny sigh whenever she sees something beautiful, like the branches of the trees against the sky when it began to turn to a light gray-yellow and blue.

  And all of this was very nice to have seen.

  Mom, Dad, and Gwendolyn came home and found us on the couch. We made dinner, sang “Happy Birthday” to Auntie Eva, and surprised her with a cake from her favorite bakery. It was the perfect ending to the day.

  The next morning we went to a park and then to one of Auntie Eva’s favorite Chinese restaurants. It was fun, though I got bored of all the talking about work, so I invented a game where I wrapped paper napkins around one of my chopsticks and dipped it in water. “Gross,” Auntie Eva said. “It looks like earwax.” I realized she was right, so I made up a song about it. It went:

  Earwax on a stick!

  Earwax on a stick!

  You can’t get your kicks without earwax on a stick!

  It’s mushy, it’s gushy, it’s really, really smushy!

  Auntie Eva laughed and said, “Ewwwww!” And then, “Sing it again.”

  So I did. And she sang it too.

  And every night on our vacation, Auntie Eva sat with me before bed and braided my hair and told me silly jokes and stories.

  And I was very happy.

  * * *

  We could only spend the weekend at Auntie Eva’s because she had to work. So we woke up early that Monday morning, and I got to see her in her work clothes, and they were AMAZING. She wore tall high heels and she had a briefcase that looked important and was packed full of papers.

  “Goodbye, Cilla.” She bent down and swung me up in a big hug, which was VERY impressive since she was doing it in high heels. “I can’t wait to see you in June! We’ll have so much fun, and you’ll be my Special Wedding Helper, right? We’ll go dress shopping with my mom together.”

  “YES!” I said. “I can’t wait to see you too!” I hugged her back tightly.

  My mom and dad said goodbye, and my dad said, “I love you, sis,” and my mom said, “If you need me to distract your mom, just let me know. I’ll make up a project for her.”

  Auntie Eva helped us get settled in the car, which took a few minutes because Gwendolyn had to be buckled and bags had to be put in the right places, and in the end I took out the bag with the snow globes for Colleen and Alien-Face and put it on the seat next to me so they wouldn’t be squished.

  Then Auntie Eva stood on the porch steps and waved goodbye, and I waved and waved until I couldn’t see her anymore.

  * * *

  I sat back and watched the trees and the buildings and the sky go by. And I pulled out the dinosaur snow globe and shook it to hear the water swish. I tried to watch, and to listen, and to not think about the fact that the next time I came here, Auntie Eva would be getting married. So Paul would live in her house too.

  And I wondered if things would ever be like this again.

  If Auntie Eva would still sit with me, and braid my hair, and play dinosaur and snow monster with me, and not care who saw.

  I wondered if she would still have time for me, once she married Paul.

  I think my mom noticed all the thoughts and worries on my face because suddenly she said, “Wow, look at those clouds, Cilla! I think I see one shaped like a duck—do you see it?”

  “Yes,” I said. “And there’s one that looks like a cow!”

  So we looked out the windows as our car sped along away from Auntie Eva, back toward home, and wa
tched the sky go by.

  7

  DAISY, LIGHTNING, AND OTHER CHALLENGES

  Being perfect means you’ve done EVERYTHING exactly right, which sounds great, even if my dad does say I need to worry about it less because it sometimes makes me upset.

  I don’t agree with him, though, because shouldn’t you want things to be perfect? And being a little worried or upset seems worth it, if you get everything you want in the end.

  So, for example, it would be perfect if Gwendolyn found a destiny that made her special but also not a writer. That’s why I’ve been working hard, since we’ve been back from break, to help her. So far, I know she’s not an architect, because when I gave her blocks she just banged them together instead of building a skyscraper. I also know she’s not a musical genius, because when I put her at the electric keyboard, she just hit it with the blocks. And she’s DEFINITELY not a cooking genius, because when I let her play with flour, she just threw it.

  But even though all this trying is hard work (and made my dad say “argh” when he saw the mess in the kitchen), I know it will be worth it in the end.

  Because then everything will be just the way it should be.

  Sometimes, though, being perfect is hard in other ways.

  Like on days like today. When nothing was the way I wanted it to be, and most frustrating of all, I wasn’t the way I wanted to be.

  The morning, at least, started off well because Colleen came over. We played, in this order:

  1.  Robots

  2.  Soccer Stars

  3.  Pillow Fort

  4.  Pillow Fort Part II, with fire-breathing sea-slug monsters

  5.  Pillow Fort Part III, with fire-breathing sea-slug monsters plus a princess

  Pillow Fort Part II and III were especially fun, which was nice considering the fact that I’m trying to show Colleen that playdates at my house are the best things ever. And I was worried that our playdate wouldn’t be perfect, since we have an unexpected guest.

  A guest who is very loud, and snorty, and likes to charge and nip at people and things.