Kimchi & Calamari(46)

“Both our dates were collaborative efforts,” Nash said, using a deep spy voice.

“Never use that word ‘collaborative.’ It’s too teacher-ish,” I said, and we both laughed.

Nash said that he and Ok-hee would be riding to the dance with her brother. “You’ll never believe who Yongsu’s taking,” he said.

“Whitney the Wordless Word Queen?”

He nodded. “Did he tell you?”

“Just a hunch. Yongsu didn’t say a word. And we both know Whitney’s a good speller but a lousy talker!”

Nash finished cleaning the pool and tossed the skimmer on the grass. “Want to swim?”

“Sure,” I said. Nash belly flopped in and I followed, causing a tidal wave that drenched the picnic table.

I was wearing jean shorts, but I didn’t care. In fact, we made so much noise acting like caffeinated dolphins that Mrs. Nash came out and offered us snacks just to get us out of the water.

Close to dinnertime, I dried off and put on my sneakers.

Nash crossed his arms over his chest, hesitated, and then spoke. “I’m sorry about the search, Joseph. That it didn’t work out.”

I shrugged. “It’s not your fault, Nash. The odds weren’t with us that the right person would read my posting.”

To use Mom-speak, I’d taken a chill pill. I wasn’t even mad at my birth mother anymore, whatever her name is. I mean, it’s not like I got shipped to Slumsville, USA.

“It’s up to you, Joseph. But if you want to keep searching, well, I’m here and I charge reasonable rates.”

I smiled and told Nash I’d keep that in mind.



As I walked up my driveway in my dripping wet shorts, I figured out why I’ve always loved Spider-Man. Throughout his whole life Peter Parker tried, but never uncovered, what happened after his parents disappeared behind the Iron Curtain as spies. It always bugged him that he couldn’t get to the truth, and, yeah, a couple of times he followed false leads, thinking he’d found his parents when he hadn’t. Still, it didn’t stop him from being the coolest. Even better than Superman, if you ask me. Sure, Superman is invincible—nothing but a wad of kryptonite can take him out. But Spider-Man, well, he started out human like the rest of us. And he rights the world using his web slinging and wisecracking.

Besides, my birth mother didn’t go behind the Iron Curtain. She probably never even left her village in Korea. Someday I might find her. And this time I’ll be sure to ask what religion she is first.





Why Not Both?




“Don’t drop those Whoppers,” Dad called that evening as I followed him to a table in the back of Burger King, where Mom was waiting with Gina and Sophie. Since Dad still had his cast on, I was the designated carrier. And this was the mother of all fast-food trays, piled high with supersized drinks, burgers, fries, and lots of ketchup in paper cups.

“Where’s my fish fillet?” Sophie asked, scanning the wrapped burgers.

Mom dug it out from under the pile and passed it to her.

I looked at Sophie’s sandwich and grasped at my chest. “How dare you eat a fish that was so cruelly hooked, skinned, and fried!”

“Not funny, Joseph. And neither is killing cow mothers in front of their puppies.”

“Calves, Sophie,” Dad said, biting into his burger. “If you’re going to be an animal rights activist, at least get the names straight.”

Sophie was still on her animal cruelty kick. Was she a born-again vegan or was this a passing second-grade fad? Only time would tell. Time and Mom’s risotto and sausage, which so happened to be Sophie’s favorite meal.

After they’d finished, Sophie and Gina ran over to play on the indoor jungle gym. I got up to get more ketchup. Like Dad, I use tons of the stuff.

“By the way, Joseph. Nonna and Nonno Calderaro are flying up next week for your moving-up ceremony,” Mom said.

“Great! We haven’t seen them since Christmas,” I said.

Dad sipped his shake. “Nonno wouldn’t miss your last drum solo in middle school. He bought himself a digital camera so he could e-mail your picture to all his golf buddies in Florida. Don’t be surprised if he makes copies of your report card and that terrific essay to show off too. Those old fellows like to one-up each other.”

“Ah yes, Competitive Grandparents Duke it Out in Florida. Now that’s a reality show,” I said, drumming my fingertips against the edge of the table.

Dad laughed. “Nonno’s proud of you, Joseph; we all are. What a way to end the year: a band solo and high honors for your grades. High school will suit you well.”

“Speaking of suits, I permed Donnalee Carleton’s hair this afternoon,” Mom said.