Cilla Lee-Jenkins--This Book Is a Classic

by Susan Tan

  A guest who, I’ll admit, makes a very convincing fire-breathing sea-slug monster.

  Because this week, Daisy is staying at our house.

  This wasn’t a planned thing. But Grandma and Grandpa Jenkins are away on vacation, and there was a mix-up at the kennel right before they left, and my mom says this is What You Do for family. Daisy’s been here a few nights now, and she sleeps in the kitchen and spends the rest of the day running around the house, trying to trip me, and snorting and nipping the whole time.

  “She’s really weird, isn’t she?” Colleen asked as we looked down at Daisy from behind the couch pillows.

  “Yeah,” I said with a sigh. “She never slows down. And when I bend to pick things up she comes running and licks my nose and sometimes knocks me over. I don’t think I’d mind if she did it in a friendly way, but it’s all about food, because then she chews at my fingers to see if I have anything to eat.”

  “Wow.” Colleen shook her head. “Nothing like Spock.”

  “I know!” I said. “Spock’s the PERFECT dog. I don’t know what my grandparents were thinking.”

  Just then Daisy came running toward the fort pillows again, and Colleen said, “Attack! The slugs are attacking!”

  And I said, “Oh no, protect the princess!”

  And Gwendolyn said, “Pin-neh!” (Because she was the princess in our game. She seemed to really like this word, and it’s a good one. But it’s STILL not “Cilla.”)

  So we went back to playing.

  Things were going really well, which was a relief considering that Daisy was there. Until right before Colleen had to go home.

  “Cilla,” she said, “I forgot to ask. My parents said I could bring a friend to the big soccer tournament at the end of the year. Do you want to come? It’ll be so much fun, and afterward, my mom and dad will take us to get ice cream and pizza to celebrate!”

  I know what a big deal this is for Colleen—she’s been talking about the soccer tournament for FOREVER. And I know she’s nervous and excited, and it was really nice of her to invite me.

  So I meant to say, “Yes! You’re going to be amazing, and I can’t wait to cheer for you!” Like a perfect best friend.

  But I think my thoughts got ahead of me, and I wanted to be there, but I worried because what if the entire team was there too, and Melissa Hernandez, and would Colleen want to eat pizza and ice cream with them instead of me, and leave me all by myself with no one to talk to?

  So instead, I said quickly, almost like I didn’t care what the answer would be, “Well, will it be just us and no one else and special best-friend time?”

  Colleen paused, and her forehead made a little frown. And she got that funny look again, like she didn’t know how to answer.

  But then she said, “Sure.” And then, “Is everything okay?”

  And clearly, the answer was no, because every time Colleen plays with Melissa instead of me I get worried, and Alien-Face is still a little funny around me even though he really liked the snow globe, and I wish I could just tell Colleen my feelings.

  But the perfect best friend is happy and fun all the time.

  So I put on my biggest smile and said, “Of course! And I can’t wait to cheer for you at the soccer game!”

  Colleen looked happy, and the funny looks went away, and everything seemed fine again. Mostly.

  Colleen’s mom came a few minutes later. I waved goodbye as her car drove away, but Colleen didn’t seem to wave back. And I didn’t feel that great.

  I was in a bad mood after that. Which made it worse when I found out that my Nai Nai and Ye Ye were coming over for dinner.

  Which I usually LOVE.

  But I knew exactly what would happen. And when the front door opened, I heard—

  “Ay yah!” Nai Nai said as Daisy ran, jingling, around her feet. “Shoo.”

  I sighed, but I knew that there was nothing I could do.

  “Ay yah,” Nai Nai would say, every time Daisy ran through the room. And then, things like, “You let her in the kitchen?” Or, “So dirty.”

  And my mom would say, “She doesn’t cause any trouble.” (Which isn’t true, but I see what my mom was going for.)

  And my dad would say things like, “Ma, she’s clean. Just try petting her.” Or, “She’s harmless, look how tiny she is.”

  But my Nai Nai just shook her head.

  And when Ye Ye bent down and started to pet her, Daisy began to nip at his fingers, and Nai Nai said, “Ay yah—careful, careful!” So Ye Ye stopped and didn’t try to pet her again.

  I knew this was a Tradition, like all the others.

  So I tried to show them that I didn’t like Daisy either.

  I pretended I didn’t see her when she ran around my feet, and I rolled my eyes when she started yapping, and I didn’t scratch her ears after dinner, which I sometimes do (though quickly, and just in little pats, because of the whole finger-nipping thing).

  And when we were done with dinner and Nai Nai offered to put Gwendolyn in her pajamas, I went to help and Daisy followed us. Nai Nai turned to look at her, at the door of Gwendolyn’s nursery, and said, “Go away, dog,” shaking her head. So I turned and said, “Yeah, go away, dog.” And I shook my head too, and I closed the door behind us.

  But I was surprised because all I could think about was how Daisy had looked up at me with her big, round, oversized eyes.

  And I felt bad.

  Like there was no good choice at all.

  Which didn’t seem fair.

  * * *

  Tonight, when my mom was tucking me in, I asked, “Why did Grandma and Grandpa have to get a new dog?”

  “Because,” my mom said, “they wanted a change. It’s good for them to have a dog. Your grandfather goes walking with Daisy every day, and your grandmother really enjoys the company while she grades papers. You know she stays by herself in the house for most of the day—when Grandpa goes to work, she goes to the office she keeps and works on her own projects. So it’s nice that she has company. I think she’s much happier now that Daisy’s there.”

  “Oh,” I said. “But”—I sighed—“but why this dog? She’s funny-looking, and she snorts, and she’s embarrassing, and she’s WEIRD. Why couldn’t they get a regular, nice, normal dog that does normal dog things? Why does everything have to be so COMPLICATED?!”

  “Cilla, sweetie,” my mom said, “I know Daisy’s a handful, but she can be fun, too. She just wants attention and needs a bit of training. I’m going to talk to your grandparents about it when they get back, actually—a puppy like Daisy needs more exercise than they’re giving her. And she’ll be going home before you know it.” She saw my face and paused. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I grumbled, with my arms crossed. “I just HATE that dog.”

  “Well,” my mom said, smoothing my hair back with her hand, “four more days.”

  Before she said good night, my mom read four whole chapters from Selena Moon and the Curse of the Lunar Eclipse.

  Then she kissed me and turned off my lamp.

  But I turned it back on because I couldn’t sleep. So I’m writing.

  And I’m frustrated because nothing is the way it should be.

  Showing Colleen that I’m the best best friend EVER is actually really hard. Sometimes I wish that we could just go back to the way it used to be, so I didn’t have to spend my playdates worrying that she’s not having fun, or telling her everything is fine and not saying how I’m feeling.

  And I want to make Nai Nai and Ye Ye happy. I want them to know that I love being Chinese. But it’s sometimes hard to do that all the time. I didn’t like hurting Daisy’s feelings, even if she is strange and weird and kind of looks like a slug. And I didn’t realize she means so much to my Grandma and Grandpa Jenkins. And I don’t know how to be Chinese without hurting their feelings. And how do I tell Colleen how I feel without losing her to Melissa, and I’m mad at everyone, and there’s just no way to make the perfect choices, and—

/>   * * *

  BOOM. Last night, I woke up, my notebook next to me and my pen by my pillow, where I’d fallen asleep writing.

  BOOM. The sound of thunder was everywhere.

  BOOM. The sky outside went white, and there was wind making a whistling sound, and I thought maybe the wind would break through my window, and I pulled the covers up over my face because I was scared.

  Then I heard a new sound, from inside the house.

  It was Daisy. She wasn’t barking. She wasn’t even snuffling or snorting. She was making a high sound.

  A scared sound.

  Daisy was crying.

  It’s okay, I told myself from under my covers. Mom and Dad will wake up and know what to do. That’s how things work. But I didn’t hear anything from their room, and the thunder BOOMED again. I couldn’t get out of bed because it was scary and what if the window burst open and I didn’t have my covers to protect me, and—

  BOOM. I was up and out of my bed, even though I didn’t really remember deciding to leave it, and running down the hallway to the kitchen.

  “Daisy!” I yelled as I burst through the door.

  A small inky-black shape raced toward me. And Daisy was in my arms.

  “Shhhhh,” I said. “Shhhhh, it’s okay.”

  She pressed into me, shaking. I couldn’t leave her there alone.

  So I carried her, very carefully, back to my room.

  I was still afraid of the window, even though the thunder was getting quieter now. So I sat on the floor, next to the bed, and I felt better having it there to protect me in case the wind and rain did get through. Daisy sat, the quietest and stillest she’s ever been, in my lap, with her smushed-up nose pressed against my shoulder.

  And together, we waited for the storm to end.

  Daisy was warm and soft. I noticed how smooth her fur was and how her ears made perfect triangles. And the sound of her breathing was actually nice to hear. I listened to it go in and out, as the booming started to fade away. Until finally, it was gone.

  When my room was quiet again, Daisy looked up at me and licked my nose once.

  I made a decision.

  “Get in, Daisy,” I said as I dragged her dog bed from the kitchen into a corner of my room and climbed back into my bed. “Go to sleep.” But she didn’t and stood there on my rug, snuffling by the side of the bed, looking up at me.

  “No, Daisy.” I sighed. “You can’t come up.” I put my hand down to keep her from jumping up and felt something against my hand. “No, Daisy,” I said again. But then I stopped and looked down. Daisy was curled up on the rug, her forehead pressed against my hand. Fast asleep.

  So I closed my eyes too, and I felt Daisy’s soft fur, and I listened to her tiny snores as she breathed.

  And that’s how my dad found us when he came to get me in the morning.

  * * *

  My parents were sorry for not waking up and surprised that Gwendolyn didn’t wake up during the storm (she’s something called Fickle, which means she NEVER does what you think she will, and it’s EXHAUSTING).

  But it was okay, I told them.

  Daisy and I had everything under control.

  And that day, I began to notice new things about Daisy. Like how she loves being petted, and in fact, that’s why she charges at you—because she’s SO excited that you’re petting her and worries you’ll go away. So if you sit with her and keep petting her, she’ll start to slow down, and she’ll stop wriggling and nipping. And she’ll sit with her eyes half-closed and breathe with her mouth open so it looks like a smile.

  Though every once in a while she’ll look up, snort, and lick your nose.

  She’s still Daisy, after all.

  * * *

  A few days later, I went to Nai Nai and Ye Ye’s after school. After Nai Nai taught me some new Chinese words (I still haven’t told her why I want to know them, which is hard, but surprises are worth it), Ye Ye and I sat at their small glass table and ate maan tau. Maan tau is white, fluffy Chinese bread, and we were practicing the best techniques for dipping it into dried pork (which is delicious). Behind us, Nai Nai was watching her Chinese soap operas, and beautiful women were walking around in fancy outfits, crying, as usual.

  I’d just happened to glance back at the TV when—

  “Wait,” I gasped. “What is that?!!”

  “Pekingese,” Ye Ye said. “Traditional Chinese dog.”

  “But…” I looked wide-eyed at Ye Ye and then at Nai Nai. “But I thought Chinese people didn’t like dogs,” I said finally.

  “Wah,” Nai Nai said, looking up. “I just don’t like dogs.”

  I looked at her with big eyes.

  “There weren’t many dogs,” she explained, “where I was growing up. And when I was little, a dog bite me. I don’t like them now.”

  “Oh,” I said again. And then, “So … Chinese people can like dogs too?”

  Ye Ye laughed. “Of course. You know, Daisy, your grandparents’ dog, is a Chinese dog. Pugs were originally Chinese pets.”

  This was a lot to take in.

  “You know, Nai Nai,” I said, after a minute, “Daisy is actually really nice. She wouldn’t ever hurt you—she kept me company during a lightning storm when I was scared, and when Gwendolyn pulled her tail yesterday, she didn’t even bark.”

  “Hmmmmm,” Nai Nai said. But in a different way than usual.

  And right before Grandma and Grandpa Jenkins came back from their trip, Nai Nai and Ye Ye came over for dinner again.

  Nai Nai laughed when she saw how Daisy followed me around (she even sits outside the bathroom door when I’m inside). And when Nai Nai thought no one was looking, I saw her bend down and give Daisy a quick pat on the head.

  But just once.

  We sat on the couch after dinner, and Daisy jumped in my lap, like she always does now.

  “Wah,” Ye Ye said. “She loves you.”

  “Really?” I asked, not sure if I believed him.

  “Of course,” he said. “Just look at her.”

  Daisy snorted, probably because she knew we were talking about her.

  So I looked down at her looking up at me, and at her big bug eyes and that squished, snuffling nose. She was nothing at all like Spock. The perfect dog.

  “You,” I told her, “are really weird.”

  Then I gave her a kiss on her wrinkled forehead.

  She licked my nose.

  As if she agreed.

  And it didn’t matter at all.

  8

  BURGER PLANET-AH

  When you speak Chinese and you use English words or names in your sentences, you add an “ah” to the end. I don’t know why this is—it’s just a rule. So sometimes when my dad speaks in Chinese with my Nai Nai or Ye Ye because he doesn’t want me to know what he’s saying, it doesn’t work. Because even though I don’t speak Chinese, I hear “Cilla-ah” and “ice cream-ah” and I know where we’re going and get really excited. This also means that my dad calls my Ye Ye “Daddy-ah,” when he speaks in Chinese, which I think is the best thing EVER.

  This is why I was REALLY excited when my Ye Ye called my dad a few days ago. I was sitting right next to him at the kitchen table, and through the phone I heard first “Cilla-ah” and then “Roller Kingdom-ah.”

  So I was already bouncing up and down in my chair and clapping my hands when my dad turned to me and said, “Your Ye Ye wants to know if you want to go to Roller Kingdom this weekend.”

  And I said, “YES!” because Roller Kingdom is an arcade and a roller-skating rink that’s inside, and they play music and there are different-colored lights everywhere, and there’s nothing better for the imagination (and fun) than that.

  Through the phone, I could hear Ye Ye say something else in Chinese, and my dad said, “Great! Cilla, Ye Ye says you can bring a friend to Roller Kingdom too.”

  “Oh,” I said. I do a lot of things with my Ye Ye, but I’ve never gone on a playdate when he was there.

  “How about Colleen?” my m
om asked as she fed Gwendolyn across the table. “You two love roller-skating together, right?”

  “Right,” I said.

  But when I called Colleen, she had a soccer game and couldn’t go.

  “I guess it will just be me and Ye Ye,” I said.

  “Well,” my mom said, trying to clean off Gwendolyn, who was done eating and now using her spoon to make drumming noises (though I don’t think she’s a future drumming legend, because she doesn’t like when things are loud). “Why don’t you ask Ben? I’m sure he’d love to come.”

  “Um,” I said. “I mean…” I paused. “It’s just that we’ve never had a playdate just the two of us before, and he doesn’t really know Ye Ye.”

  “Well, he met Ye Ye at your last birthday party,” my mom pointed out.

  “Okay,” I said. But I was kind of nervous when I called Alien-Face’s house to ask because this wasn’t how things usually are. And even though he’d loved the dinosaur snow globe, things still seemed kind of funny with him. Sometimes, when Colleen wasn’t playing kickball, he wouldn’t come over to play with us on the playground, like he thought we didn’t want to see him. Which was sad.

  But he sounded happy when I called, and he said he’d love to come. So it all seemed okay, even though, as Saturday got closer, I felt kind of funny and sort of wished it was just me and Ye Ye. Because special playdates like this are usually with Colleen. It felt strange to go with someone else. Plus Colleen has had Chinese food with me and met my Nai Nai and Ye Ye and knows what tzuck sang and maan tau are. But she’s the only friend who’s ever done those things.

  And I wondered if Alien-Face would think these things were weird.

  Or if he thought I wasn’t Chinese enough to do them.

  We picked Alien-Face up at his house, and in the car, Ye Ye asked him about his helmet and the alligator stickers on it. Then we talked about fancy roller-skating tricks, and Alien-Face said he’s an expert twirler. So I said I was an expert skate-on-one-leg-er (this wasn’t really true, because I’d never tried it before, but it seemed like a fun idea). And Ye Ye said he was an expert roller-skating high-fiver, which I hadn’t known before.