Yours Turly, Shirley

by Ann M. Martin

“That’s all right,” said Mrs. Basini, straightening Shirley’s untidy ponytails. “We all have to get used to the idea. Joe, too. He doesn’t even know yet. Would you like to call and give him the news?”

  “I guess so. I’ll do it later.”

  Shirley went to her room to think. She, Shirley Taylor Basini, was going to be a big sister. She hoped she was ready for the job.

  Chapter Two: October

  “MOM, WHERE ARE THE clean pillowcases?”

  “In the laundry room. Shirley, what did you do with that baby minder your father bought on Saturday?”

  “I put it on the shelf in Joe’s closet … You know, I don’t think we have enough new clothes. You only bought three shirts.”

  “He’s coming with some clothes of his own, hon.” It was Wednesday, October twelfth. In just three days, Shirley’s new little brother would arrive. Shirley and her mother were very busy. They were fixing up half of Joe’s room for a three-year-old boy. (This was a terrific project, since it kept Mrs. Basini’s mind off of Shirley’s schoolwork.) On one side of the room was Joe’s bed, his dresser with his soccer trophies, a bookcase, and his computer. On the other side was a new bed. It was covered with a bedspread that had bright red cars and trucks printed on it. Nearby was a chest filled with Shirley’s old toys and puzzles and stuffed animals. On a white bureau stood a teddy-bear lamp.

  “This room looks like What’s Wrong with This Picture?” said Shirley, entering with the pillowcases.

  Mrs. Basini laughed. “Joe will die when he sees it. But he’s not home very often anymore, so I don’t think he’ll mind much.”

  Shirley thought of her good-natured big brother. She knew he wouldn’t mind at all.

  The phone rang then, and Shirley dropped a pile of neatly folded pillowcases on the floor. “I’ll get it!” she yelled.

  “Shir-ley,” her mother admonished her, pointing to the floor. She shook her head at Shirley’s carelessness.

  “Sorry,” said Shirley, tripping over them as she ran out of the room. She picked up the phone in the hallway. “Hello?” she said breathlessly. (Shirley just loved to answer the phone. You never knew who might be on the other end. Maybe it was Joe … or a guy saying she’d won a million dollars and a clock radio in a contest.)

  Shirley listened for a moment. Then she rested the receiver on the table. “Mom!” she called. “It’s the adoption agency. The lady says it’s important.”

  Mrs. Basini bustled out of the bedroom. “Yes?” she said into the receiver. “Mrs. Cooley? … Oh, I see. … Mm-hmm, mm-hmm.”

  Shirley leaned against the doorjamb and listened to her mother’s end of the conversation. She wished Mrs. Basini would say something more than “I see” and “Mm-hmm.”

  At last she did. “Eight years old?! … Well, no, of course not. I don’t see how we can. I mean, after all, we just wanted another child. But we did think it would be nice to have a younger one … No, no. Don’t worry. I’ll have to speak to my husband, of course, but I’m sure he’ll feel the same way … Yes. … Yes. … All right. We’ll be at the airport on Saturday.” Mrs. Basini hung up the phone, frowning.

  “What is it?” asked Shirley. She was dying of curiosity.

  Mrs. Basini walked slowly into the room and sat on Joe’s bed. “There’s been a mix-up,” she said, rubbing her forehead.

  “A mix-up?” Shirley repeated. She began to feel funny, the way she did when a teacher placed a surprise quiz paper in front of her.

  “Yes,” replied Mrs. Basini. “We’re not getting a three-year-old boy on Saturday. We’re getting an eight-year-old girl.”

  “A girl? An eight-year-old girl? That’s almost my age!”

  “I know, I know. It isn’t at all what we expected. But how can we say no? She needs a home, too. And that was what your father and I wanted to do—give a home to a child who needs one. And here we are, and there she is. …”

  That night Mr. and Mrs. Basini talked for a long time. Shirley wasn’t at all surprised when they told her at breakfast the next morning that she was going to be big sister to a girl, not a boy.

  But she was surprised when her father said, “Of course, we’ll have to make some fast changes. She’ll have to share your room, Shirley, not Joe’s.”

  “My room! How come?”

  “Because Joe’s a boy,” her mother said. “He isn’t home much, but he is home during the summer and on vacations. And he can’t be expected to share a room with an eight-year-old girl.”

  “Couldn’t he sleep on the couch or something?” asked Shirley.

  “Not for an entire summer, honey,” said her mother. “That’s not fair. We don’t want to take his room away from him.”

  “You’re taking mine away,” said Shirley grouchily.

  “Not really,” Mr. Basini told her. “We’re just asking you to share it.”

  Shirley nodded. Her father, it seemed, could make anything seem better.

  The preparations for Shirley’s sister began.

  Mrs. Basini put the new baby minder out in the garage. They wouldn’t need the intercom to listen in on an eight-year-old. Some of the baby toys were put in the garage, too.

  “What’s her name, anyway?” Shirley asked her father that evening as they moved the lamp and dresser and bed out of Joe’s room and into hers.

  “Oh, it’s entirely unpronounceable. I couldn’t begin to repeat what Mrs. Cooley told your mother.”

  Shirley smiled. She liked the way her father would come right out and admit when he couldn’t do something. He didn’t try to be perfect, the way her mother did.

  “Will her last name be Basini?” asked Shirley thoughtfully, as she smoothed out the car-and-truck bedspread.

  “Yes,” replied her father. “And I think we’ll give her a new first name. Would you like to help pick out a name?”

  “Sure!” replied Shirley.

  When she went to bed later that evening, Shirley lay against her pillow and looked at the shadows in the room. There were a lot more shadows than there had been the night before. Her room was very crowded—two dressers, two beds, two night tables, plus Shirley’s desk and chair.

  All day Shirley had wondered what having a sister would be like. She was not thrilled about sharing her room, but she had decided that a sister might not be so bad. For one thing, her sister wouldn’t be able to speak English. Shirley hoped that she and her parents would be so busy trying to teach her English that her mother wouldn’t have time to worry about things like Shirley’s second-grade reading book. Or the spelling test that had been returned to her that morning with nine out of ten wrong. And if Shirley could teach her sister English, maybe her mother would be proud of her for once.

  Shirley was looking forward to teaching her sister all sorts of things. She bet the girl wouldn’t know anything about TV or stuffed animals or video games. Who knew what her orphanage in Vietnam had been like? Maybe she’d never gone to school or sat in front of a mirror and played beauty parlor or eaten a chocolate bar or a slice of pizza.

  Shirley’s excitement was growing. For once, someone needed her. Shirley could be the leader, the teacher, the explainer. She couldn’t wait for Saturday.

  Shirley fell asleep thinking of names for her sister. Ellen? No. Erica? No. Tammy, Amelia, Nancy, Jackie, Rachel, Leah, Lynn …

  Oh, Saturday, please hurry up!

  Saturday didn’t hurry, but it did arrive.

  By the time the Basinis left for the airport, they had decided on a name for Shirley’s sister—Jacqueline Sara Basini. They would call her Jackie. It had taken a long time to choose a name, but everyone had liked Jacqueline Sara. Shirley had even phoned Joe at college to make sure he liked the name. He did.

  Late Saturday afternoon, Shirley and her parents arrived at the big airport in Boston, Massachusetts. They were going to meet a flight from California.

  “Twelve Vietnamese children will be on the plane,” Mr. Basini explained to Shirley as they waited at the gate. “They’ve been adopted by families
in New England.”

  Shirley looked around at the people in the waiting area. Most of them appeared excited. She saw three couples with no other children, and one family that already included six children—black, white, and brown.

  “How come the flight is from California?” Shirley wanted to know.

  “Because the most direct route from Vietnam to the United States is east,” her father explained patiently, “and the plane reaches California first. Jackie and the other children changed planes there. The kids will be exhausted by the time they reach Boston. They will have been traveling for hours and hours and hours.”

  “I hope Jackie got on the right plane in California,” said Shirley nervously.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” said her mother. “Four people from the adoption agency are traveling with them. They’re well taken care of.”

  “Hey,” cried Shirley, “look at that!”

  Two men and two women with big cameras had rushed into the waiting area. They were followed by a crew from a TV station. Reporters began interviewing the families who were waiting for the flight.

  “Wow,” exclaimed Shirley softly, “I guess this is a pretty big deal.”

  “It’s not every day that a group of orphans from halfway around the world arrives in Boston to go to new homes,” a newspaper reporter told Shirley. “What’s your name?”

  “Shirley Basini,” Shirley replied proudly. “I’m waiting for my new sister. Her name is going to be Jacqueline Sara Basini. I’ve never had a sister.”

  “And are these your parents?” asked the reporter.

  Shirley nodded.

  Her parents introduced themselves and answered the reporter’s questions about how they had found Jackie and how the adoption had been arranged. Then a woman with a camera took a picture of the Basinis.

  A tinny voice came over the loudspeaker. “Announcing flight three-oh-eight from Los Angeles,” it said. “Three-oh-eight from Los Angeles.”

  “That’s it! That’s Jackie’s plane!” cried Mrs. Basini.

  Shirley and her parents jumped up and joined the crowd of people at the railing near the flight gate.

  People from the plane began to enter the waiting area. First came a businessman with his briefcase. An old man and an old woman followed him slowly and waved to someone, their faces breaking into smiles. A mother and father with two children came out. And then an American woman with an Asian baby in her arms walked into the waiting area. A sign saying PETERSON was hanging from her arm.

  “Here we are!” shouted two excited voices.

  Shirley turned around to look, but her father tugged at her sleeve. “I think Jackie’s here,” he said softly.

  Shirley turned back to the gate. Emerging into the waiting room in a frightened huddle were five Asian children—two boys and three girls—and another American woman. Each child carried a paper bag. On the shirt of one of the girls was pinned a big tag that said BASINI.

  Shirley and her parents rushed over to the girl.

  “We’re the Basinis!” Shirley’s mother told the woman from the adoption agency. And then she gathered the girl into her arms.

  Jackie began to cry. So did Shirley’s mother. So did Shirley’s father. So did Shirley. A reporter snapped their picture.

  “This is your sister,” Mrs. Basini told Jackie. She pulled Shirley close, and Shirley took Jackie’s hand. Nobody knew whether Jackie understood what was being said, but it didn’t matter.

  There were more hugs and tears and smiles. Mr. Basini spoke to the woman from the agency. Everywhere, families were greeting their new children. Flashbulbs went off. A TV camera zoomed in on Shirley and Jackie. Shirley smiled and waved. “This is my sister,” she announced.

  Jackie was tiny. Even though she was just a year younger than Shirley she was a whole head shorter. And she looked fragile, as if a gust of wind could blow her to the ground. She gazed at Shirley out of dark almond-shaped eyes under a fringe of choppy black hair.

  “We,” said Shirley to Jackie, “are going to have to do something about your hair.”

  “Hair?” repeated Jackie, and touched her head.

  “You speak English?” said Shirley disbelievingly.

  “Engrish,” said Jackie.

  “What’s in your bag?” asked Shirley. She pointed to Jackie’s paper bag, and Jackie held it out to her. Shirley peeked inside. She saw an old shirt, a pair of socks, and a faded dress. Were they Jackie’s only belongings?

  A reporter moved in for another picture and Jackie pressed her face against Shirley’s shoulder and began to cry again.

  “No more pictures,” Shirley told the man importantly. “She’s shy.”

  “And tired,” added Mrs. Basini.

  “And confused,” added Mr. Basini. “Come on. It’s time to go home.”

  Shirley would never forget her first night with Jackie. She could only describe it as surprising. She was surprised that Jackie knew a little English. Jackie had learned it in the orphanage—not much, but enough to communicate with the Basinis when she was hungry or had to use the bathroom, and enough to point to some things and name them.

  She’s like a little kid who’s just starting to talk, thought Shirley.

  Shirley was surprised again when the Basinis reached their house and sat down to their first meal with Jackie. Jackie ate like a bird. When anyone offered her second helpings, she said no—very politely. But after dinner she managed to hide a pile of food in a napkin, and later take it to bed with her. Shirley found it when she realized that her room smelled like peas and mashed potatoes.

  “Why would she hide food?” she asked her father.

  “She’s probably never had enough to eat,” he replied slowly. “She must think she has to hoard food when there’s extra.”

  Shirley’s last surprise was the way Jackie began to cling to her that evening. She stuck to Shirley like glue until bedtime, and barely spoke to Mr. and Mrs. Basini.

  “I think she feels more comfortable with you,” said Mrs. Basini. “You’re close to her age. Your father and I must look like big, scary people to her.”

  Shirley laughed.

  That night, after the lights were out, an exhausted Jackie crawled out of her new bed with the car-and-truck spread on it and into Shirley’s bed. Shirley had never felt more important. She hoped she could do a good job of being the big sister Jackie needed.

  On Monday, Shirley went to school, but Jackie wasn’t ready to go. Instead, Mrs. Basini took Jackie to the doctor and the dentist for checkups, to the department store for more clothes, and to a special teacher to see what should be done about Jackie’s English and when she would be ready for school.

  Shirley was a celebrity in Mr. Bradley’s room. Almost everyone had seen her on the news on Saturday night. During social studies, Mr. Bradley even canceled the usual textbook assignment and called Shirley to the front of the room.

  “Why don’t you talk to the class about adopting a foreign child?” he said.

  Shirley’s eyes widened. “Me?” she replied.

  Mr. Bradley smiled. “You’re the only one I know who got a Vietnamese sister over the weekend.”

  So Shirley told her family’s story. Later, her classmates asked questions. Shirley answered all of them. She felt like the teacher instead of just a student. She was almost able to forget that she had flunked a math test on Friday.

  One week later, Jackie started school. Even though she was eight years old, she was put in a first-grade classroom.

  “Just until her English improves,” said Mrs. Basini. “And until she learns how to read and write in English.”

  Poor Jackie, thought Shirley. That could take forever. Reading and writing were hard, even when you were paying attention, which was what Shirley was trying to do.

  As it turned out, neither reading nor writing was Jackie’s biggest problem. Her biggest problem was being afraid. Mrs. Basini had to stay with Jackie for her entire first day in school and half of her second. On the third day, Mrs. Basini le
ft, but Shirley was called out of Mr. Bradley’s room twice to help Jackie.

  “Everything is new for her,” Shirley told Jackie’s teacher. “Call me any time she needs help.”

  The teacher called her a lot at first, and then less and less often.

  By Halloween, Jackie knew how to say one hundred English words. (Shirley had been keeping track of them on a list that she taped to the wall in their bedroom.) Jackie had walked home from school by herself three times. She had learned how to answer the telephone. She liked TV, and she loved to look at picture books.

  Shirley tried to explain Halloween to Jackie. She told her about witches and goblins and ghosts. Jackie looked blank. Finally, Shirley colored a huge picture of kids trick or treating on Halloween night. She put a full yellow moon in the sky with a dark cloud scudding in front of it. She added a witch on a broomstick flying near the moon. She put a black cat in the bare branches of a twisted, evil-looking tree. And down below, she drew masked trick or treaters going from door to door in their costumes.

  Jackie loved the picture.

  Then Mr. Bradley announced a Halloween poster contest in Shirley’s class. Shirley entered her picture.

  She won first place!

  What a way to end October, thought Shirley. She felt happier than she had felt in a long, long time. Her mother was happy, too. Finally, Shirley had succeeded at somethin.

  Chapter Three: November

  NOBODY WAS PROUDER THAN Shirley of the progress Jackie was making. Every time Jackie learned a new word or came home from school carrying a paper with a foil star on the top, Shirley beamed. After all, she was Jackie’s personal, private, and very special tutor. She had taught her about Halloween and helped her to make a ghost costume. She had made flash cards of first-grade words for her. And she had run down to Jackie’s classroom to rescue her every time she needed rescuing.

  By the middle of November, when Jackie had been Shirley’s sister for a month, Jackie’s teacher had stopped calling Shirley for help.

  “Jackie’s doing beautifully,” she told Shirley one afternoon when Shirley stopped by to walk Jackie home.