Kimchi & Calamari(37)

Dad uses every opportunity he can to talk about books and how they relate to life. “I can see you stomping around the campus,” I said, grinning.

“Why not—and why not now, huh? I’m not getting any younger, but I’m not ready for the senior citizen special at the diner either.”

“Just on the basketball court,” I said. I couldn’t resist.

“I’ll play you one on one, even with a bad wing. Seriously, it’s time to chase my dream, to stop with the shoulda, coulda, woulda’s. I want to bring great books to a generation of video game addicts. What do you think?”

I pictured my father helping students understand what Edgar Allan Poe meant when he freaked out over that raven. Dad has a wacky way of tossing words together like vegetables in stew, but he knows what he’s talking about. And he sure loves books.

“It sounds like you’re a man with a plan, Dad.”

Mom returned to the patio, bringing Dad more lemonade.

“Come here, Maria,” he said, and kissed her on the lips. “You’re looking at a man with a plan.”



I caught a ride to band with Nash on Monday morning. We were late because Nash’s mom had trouble getting her prehistoric van started—so late that they’d already started “Jamaican Farewell” when I opened the squeaky band-room door. Yongsu gave me a sympathetic look from the flute section. I expected Mrs. Athena to point her conductor’s wand disapprovingly like she does when kids dash in mid-song, but she didn’t. I think she knows I hate being late.

Robyn caught up with me after practice as I put my drumsticks away and gathered my books. “Hey, Joseph. You hear about the Buddhist who refused to take Novocain at the dentist?”

I was too sleepy to figure this one out.

“He wanted to transcend dental medication,” she said, grinning.

“Good one.” I smiled, and a yawn popped out.

“What’re you, a vampire?” she asked. “You’ve got black circles under your eyes.”

“I haven’t been getting much sleep lately. A lot on my mind.”

“Something happen?”

“What hasn’t happened? For one, my dad had an accident.”

Robyn stopped in the middle of the hallway. “Even you wouldn’t make that up. Is he okay?”

“He broke his arm. My dad’s the Rocky Balboa of Nutley, New Jersey. He’s actually happier now,” I said, shaking my head. “Parents.”

“Rough time lately, huh? First kids spread rumors about you, and now your dad gets hurt.”

“It’s not that bad. I could’ve gotten E. coli bacteria from the cafeteria or chopped off a finger in Life Skills.” I waved my hands with my thumbs tucked in.

Robyn didn’t come back with a joke. “Only losers pay attention to the rumor of the day. I didn’t believe any of that stuff about the essay contest. I kept telling everyone to stick it down their esophaguses.”

We climbed the main stairwell. All the way up I felt bad about Robyn defending me and my not coming clean.

“Listen, Robyn. I did make up the essay about my Korean grandfather. The guy really won a gold medal, but we weren’t related. That’s why my essay got canned.” I looked down at a dirt spot on my sneaker, feeling stained inside, too.

Robyn tugged at my T-shirt sleeve. “Did you make that up because you’re adopted?”

“Yeah, kind of. It’s a long story,” I said, looking up at her. For the first time I noticed her eyes. They were greenish-brown and swirly, like lake water in the fall.

“That sucks worse than an industrial vacuum. People not understanding, I mean.” She shook her head.

At her locker Robyn started telling me about her cousin’s husband’s sister’s kid, or something like that, who was ten and had leukemia.

“You know what’s worse than having a disease that might kill you and makes you bald at ten?”

“What?”

“Having jerks ask if you’re going to die. Jesse told me he was tired of all the questions and the staring in school. Well, naturally I armed him with sharp comebacks.”

“Like what?”

“I told him to poke ’em between their dumb bunny eyes and ask them what disease caused them to be mentally defective—and ugly!”

I laughed. “You’re vicious!”

“No, I just look out for the people who matter,” she said.



In study hall that afternoon, Robyn and I shared the marble pound cake we’d made in Life Skills. I was confused about quadratic equations, and we sat there sneaking cake while she explained the FOIL technique for solving them. In a niente per niente return favor, I let her borrow my Great Depression notes, since she’d been sleeping during the second half of social studies.