“Stop Tiger from chasing Fluffy!” Mike Brady yelled as he charged headlong at his sons’ dog at his wedding reception. Tiger dashed under the wedding cake table and tipped it. The three-tiered cake slid along the table and into Mike’s arms. When Carol Brady hugged him for saving the cake, it toppled onto Mike’s face. This scene on TV sent my brother and me rolling on the carpet in fits of laughter. Ben and I relied on The Brady Bunch reruns to release frustration. We watched them every afternoon, since we spent our taxing schooldays proving to the mostly white student body that we were not mentally retarded, we just couldn’t speak English. After all, we came to the U.S. three months ago, knowing only how to say “hi.” I wanted to return to Taiwan, where I lived a Brady-Bunch life—wholesome and carefree, where each day ended with everyone happy. Mom yelled from the kitchen, “哥哥, 去市場 買一袋紅蘿蔔. 現 在就去!”1. She ordered Ben to buy a bag of carrots from the market, this instant. “我不要! 叫妹妹去,”2. Ben shouted back, refusing to budge and offering me a chance to go. Mom marched into the family room and stood in front of the TV screen, hands on hips, and commanded, “現在就去,”3 repeating her order. With the agility of a panther, he rounded the corner of the supermarket Ben rolled onto his stomach, crossed his arms overhead, plopped his forehead onto his forearms, and groaned. She turned around and switched off the TV. Mom was always pressed for time. She no longer had help from her family and friends to make dinner and run errands. I wanted to help her, so I volunteered. She hesitated. She had always relied on Ben to run errands. Would she trust me to go alone for the first time? Like Cindy Brady begging to have her way, I clasped my hands, looked earnestly into Mom’s eyes, and in my sweet seven-year-old voice, pleaded with her to let me go. “媽 媽, 讓我去. 就在街頭.”4 Mom glanced at the wall clock, which read five o’clock. “Go quickly. I need it to finish the dish before Dad comes home.” She folded a five-dollar bill widthwise twice and handed it to me as I left the house. I clutched the bill in my right hand and skipped, half running, down to the store, humming the opening tune of The Brady Bunch. When I reached the market, my pace slowed. A brilliant sunset was in clear view from the near-vacant parking lot. It looked as if someone had spread rainbow sherbet across the sky with white cotton candy as clouds. I thought of the countless sunsets I had savored with my grandma from the balcony of our house. I reached over to hold her hand, but she wasn’t there. Where was she? Where were my friends, and my extended family? A kind voice jarred me from my thoughts. “Hi.” It came from a slim, tall, athletic boy in tennis shoes and blue jeans, about Ben’s age. I had never seen him before, but that was true of most Americans I had met. We exchanged warm, friendly smiles. The boy enunciated each word slowly, asking, “You go to Condit Elementary? You know, Condit Elementary School.” I stared in astonishment. Yes, yes, that was where I went to school! My mind raced with excitement at the prospect of making a friend. I thought hard, trying to express myself in proper English. “I go schoo Condid.” The boy stifled a giggle. My ears burned, my toes curled, and my fists tightened. My palms began sweating, and the five-dollar bill felt like a damp paper towel. I switched the bill to my left hand, letting the breeze cool my right one. I expected him to leave, since I couldn’t carry on a conversation with him. He stayed. Again, slowly and patiently, he said, “I’ve seen you at school.” He has seen me at school? Maybe he has seen me with Ben. “You know my broder, Be-en? He in fif grade.” His eyes lit up and he grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Yeah, yeah, we’re in the same class. I know him real good. We’re like this.” He raised his right hand, pressing together his index and middle fingers. “You’re his little sister.” I was comforted in knowing he was my brother’s friend. My ears stopped burning, my toes straightened, and my fists relaxed. My left hand loosely held the five-dollar bill. I couldn’t wait to tell Ben about this. Maybe we could invite the boy over to our house. Maybe we’d bike around the neighborhood or watch TV or play in the backyard or do anything he wants to. Should I ask now? Before I could decide, the boy lunged at me, snatched the bill, and sprang into flight. For a second, I hesitated. What happened? Was this a prank? I stared at the air in front of me in shock and opened my mouth to yell for help, but nothing came out. My body felt numb and cold, as if all blood was channeled to my thrashing heart. From the corner of my eyes, I saw him getting further away from me. I thought only of catching him. I flung myself into the chase. My eyes tracked his every move. With the agility of a panther, he rounded the corner of the supermarket. I followed. We were now in an empty stretch of the parking lot, with only a few parking lot islands with waist height hedges. My soles ripped the asphalt. I was gaining on him. After all my years of chasing Ben, I knew I could catch this boy. He glanced back and then picked up speed. He smashed through a gap in the hedges. I followed. The thorns scratched my bare shins, breaking my stride. My right foot caught on the edge of the curb, and I stumbled and fell to the ground. I didn’t check for injuries. I couldn’t. I pushed
July/August 2015
Half a World Away
Half a World Away, by Cynthia Kadohata; Atheneum Books for Young Readers: New York, 2014; $16.99 Electricity: It creates lightning, turns on the TV, generates power. A microscopic current. Something that we cannot see, that connects us all. The concept fascinates twelve-year-old Jaden. But what he can’t understand is this: he doesn’t feel connected to anyone. So he lights fires. Hoards food. Steals. Runs until his anger beats him to the ground. His biological mother didn’t want him. And while his adoptive parents say they love him, Jaden feels… nothing. Or, something, actually. Like an epic fail. And now Jaden’s parents want to adopt a new kid, so they pack up and fly with Jaden halfway around the world to get one. In Kazakhstan, Jaden’s smoldering anger flares. He knows what will happen next. Or does he? Have you ever known someone, close, who loves you but you did not love them back? That’s how Jaden feels about his adoptive parents. Jaden was abandoned by his mother when he was four, and he has told himself he will never love another. And he doesn’t, or at least not until the extraordinary chain of events that occurs when Jaden and his adoptive parents visit Kazakhstan to adopt another child. Half a World Away taught me that love is an amazing thing and can completely transform someone. When I started reading this novel, I thought Jaden was kind of an obnoxious brat. He has a cell phone and a computer of his own but is sarcastic to his parents, steals money, and hides food. And I’m speaking about stealing more than loose change every now and then. Try thirty dollars! Then I began to feel sympathy for him, because of his situation. And because of the feelings of love for his adoptive parents that Jaden has unintentionally locked up deep inside his soul where he can never find them. Jaden’s adoptive parents, Steve and Penni, are actually pretty nice. It’s just Jaden who is the problem. Or that’s how he feels, anyway. Jaden believes that he’s just a big screwup, and everything’s his fault. Sometimes I feel like a failure too. I can relate to Jaden, entirely, because he has trouble controlling his anger and I feel the same way at times. Also, Jaden’s biological mother abandoned him at a very young age. I have not had contact with my biological mother—who lives in a foreign country—in over six years. I share Jaden’s pain. I have a stepmother, and sometimes I wish that I lived with my real mother instead. This book taught me to just be grateful for the family I already have instead of wishing for one that does not seem possible. Jaden feels that Steve and Penni are looking for a new child to replace him. But when they get to Kazakhstan, they find out the baby they wanted was already adopted. While Steve and Penni look for a new baby to adopt, Jaden struggles with his feelings. Sometimes, I feel I, too, am alone in wrestling with my emotions. This book served to remind me I am not alone. Half a World Away made me want to cry at some of the sadder parts and jump up and down at the happy parts. This book moved me. I usually don’t read stories like this. Instead, I read adventure stories about dragons or wizards. But I’m glad I read this book, because it made me grateful for who I am, what I have, and most importantly, the family I do have, rather than the family I do not have. Kobe Simon, 11Scottsdale, Arizona
Girl’s Best Friend
My curly red hair flew out behind me as I ran. What I desperately needed was a place where I could be alone, a place where all there was for company were the chirping of crickets, the flapping of birds, and the occasional breeze. Luckily, I knew exactly where that was. Lost in my determination of my journey, and so absorbed in my thoughts that a stray twig slashed a cut on my ankle as I ran—it didn’t matter. Nothing matters when the most faithful dog you’ve ever known leaves Earth, because then it seems like the world is over, and what is a little gash compared to the loss of the greatest dog in the world? Finally, after much huffing and puffing, I stopped at the creek. My creek. My place. My hideout. Looking in the water, I pouted, and in the water a freckle-faced girl pouted back at me. But she was soon swept away with the rush of playful little waves frolicking on the rocks. The laughing waves left behind mounds of tiny bubbles, and I could see the reflections of hundreds of geese circling overhead, all squawking noisily. It was nice to let myself sink into another world, to escape from one in pieces… A single teardrop fell through the creek. I thought, and mourned over what had happened just hours earlier as I sat down, dipping my feet into the creek. This morning, my dog, the best dog in the world, who, after eight healthy, fun, and very spoiled years, had got run over. Now that I think about it, Spotz had not been just my dog. Spotz had been my life’s companion. She never criticized me. Instead, she comforted me. And when I was upset, when I had a bad day, or when we got some bad news from the bank, Spotz would always trot along with me—no matter how much she’d rather explore our food pantry, or roll in the mud—to this creek, to our place. To our own secret hideout that only we knew. To where I could calm down my anger—and today I had a lot of anger bottled up inside me. I was mad at myself for never realizing until now how important Spotz had been in my life. And now Spotz had… It was much too late now. Spotz had not been just my dog. Spotz had been my life’s companion. If I had stayed at home instead of going to Cecilia’s sleepover, none of this would have happened. Spotz would accompany me to my rough years, and maybe she’d even see me graduate! I had a dozen questions for myself. Didn’t I know that Spotz was scared of thunder and hated it? Didn’t I know that there would be a storm that night, yet I still went to the sleepover, leaving dear Spotz all alone? Didn’t I know that when Spotz heard thunder, she’d dig a tunnel beneath the fence to escape? That she would be terrified? That she would be out of her mind? That… that she’d accidentally get run over by a car? No, a tiny voice in my head whispered. You couldn’t have known that Spotz would get run over. True. But… for not thinking about my beloved Spotz, for focusing on the sleepover, did that make me a bad person? Replaying the events in my head was too painful for words. How Spotz had playfully licked my hand and looked me in the eye for what I didn’t know then was the last time. And seeing Spotz’s limp body on the side of the road, helping Mom and Dad bury her… it was all too much… I couldn’t stand it. And I cried. First, tears welled up in my eyes, then, gradually, a flow of tears began dripping down in the creek. Lying down on the cool black earth, I cried myself to dreams, while the serene scene before me faded away slowly. * * * “Jeana, Jeana, wake up!” Annoyed at this, I sat up. Blinking a million times faster than usual, I gaped at the tall, brown-haired woman beside me by the creek, sitting patiently. It was Mom!!!! Suddenly, I felt flustered, shocked, and a mixture of all the emotions that make you go red in the face, and I’m positive that my face had turned into an awkward-looking tomato. “Er, how, ho-how, di-did you fi-fi-find…” I sputtered, knowing that my words made no sense. Mom surveyed my face. Gently, she said, “Jeana, when I heard, I knew what you would do. The number of times I saw Spotz and you come here…” She grasped my hand tightly, and I saw her eyes glistening with tears. A shadow of guilt flickered across them. “Your dad and I should’ve watched her more carefully. I know how much Spotz meant to you. I… I really, really am sorry.” Mom sniffed. So did I. Mom continued, “It’s hard, I know, but try thinking the other way. Spotz had a great eight years with us. It’s OK to mourn now, but remember, you’ve still got a life to lead. Spotz may be gone, but she won’t ever go away in our hearts.” Mom didn’t get up, and her presence itself was comforting. As we watched the orange sky dissolve into an indigo night, it was then I realized just how much Spotz had been a part of my life. Catherine Chung, 10Theodore, Alabama
