The Year of the Book Read online

  “Did you hurt yourself when you fell?”

  I shake my head. “I’m fine.” Then I turn right back to my book. But I’m not in my book world anymore.

  “Is that a good book?” Laura whispers.

  “Yup.”

  “What’s it about?”

  “A girl and her brother who get shut inside a museum.”

  “Do they sleep there?”

  I nod.

  “I wish I could sleep in the museum. I bet it’s peaceful there and I wouldn’t have to listen to my dad shouting and breaking stuff.”

  “What stuff?” I ask.

  Ms. Simmons is looking at us so we have to stop whispering. I wonder if Laura means he breaks cups and plates. Why would somebody break their own stuff, anyway?

  Five

  Halloween

  Ken says I can be an astronaut with him. “You can wear the bigger helmet,” he offers.

  “I don’t want to be an astronaut.”

  “So what do you want to be?”

  “Nothing. I’m too old for that.”

  “You don’t want to be anything?”

  I shrug.

  “Then you can’t trick-or-treat.”

  “So?”

  “Then we’ll only get half as much candy,”

  I like Kit Kats and Milky Ways. Ken likes bubblegum, Tootsie Rolls, and Jolly Ranchers. We usually dump all our candy on the floor and sort it into piles and save the plain M&M’s for Mom and the peanut ones for Dad. But it’s not worth being an astronaut for that.

  “How about vampires?” Ken suggests.

  I shake my head. “I might not even trick-or-treat.”

  The doorbell rings. Michael wants Ken to come out and play, and when they come back in, Ken has found a new Halloween partner.

  It doesn’t matter because Halloween is a dumb holiday. Mom says in China they don’t even have Halloween, so if we lived in China, we wouldn’t have to worry about costumes and everything. But why are they having a Halloween party at Chinese school then?

  “It’s funny,” Mom says. “Nothing serious.”

  “You mean it’s for fun, not it’s funny” I say.

  Mom frowns.

  “Do I have to go?”

  Mom hands me a bag of those Jell-O cups from the Asian market to give everyone.

  “I hate these things,” I say.

  “Chinese children like them,” Mom says, pulling her lips into a straight line.

  ***

  Teacher Zhen writes Halloween words on the board, like witch and pumpkin and black cat. I raise my hand.

  “Why are we learning these words,” I ask, “when they don’t even celebrate Halloween in China?”

  “Talk Chinese in Chinese school,” she says. She adds haunted house to our list of new words. I bet she made up all these Chinese Halloween words herself.

  Everyone is supposed to say what they’re going to be for Halloween, and Teacher Zhen tells us the Chinese word. One girl is going to be a princess. A boy says he’s going to be Superman, which is the same in English and in Chinese. When it’s my turn everyone is waiting.

  “We don’t celebrate Halloween,” I say. “Chinese people aren’t supposed to.”

  Everyone is looking at me. They can hardly believe it. Teacher Zhen goes on to the next kid who is going to be Harry Potter. When all the kids have had a turn to talk, we put the snacks in the middle of the table. The Jell-O cups are gone right away.

  In the afternoon, Mom helps Ken and Michael with their astronaut costumes. They are going to use swimming snorkels for the oxygen thing and long underwear for the wet suits. It’s very hot in their costume but they don’t care.

  “Did you change your mind, Anna?” Mom asks. “Laura’s mom called to ask if you want to be Snap, Crackle, and Pop! with Laura and Allison.”

  I shake my head. “They can be Snap and Crackle or Crackle and Pop or Snap and Pop. Or they can ask Lucy.”

  Mom sighs. “You know, Anna, you could give things a chance.”

  “I do,” I say. “All the time.”

  Mom looks at me like she’s about to say something, but then she closes her mouth.

  Mom has made caramel apples. That’s what you’re supposed to have for Halloween, caramel apples and apple cider and jack-o’-lanterns. I don’t know why Mom does all these Halloween things when she never even heard of Halloween until she came to America. She followed a recipe in a cookbook called Holiday Treats.

  Trick or treat is not until six o’clock and it’s only five. Ken is running around the house chasing Michael in their astronaut suits, driving me crazy. I go upstairs to my room and open the window as wide as it goes. Outside it’s warm but windy, as if the weather really might change. Sometimes on Halloween it’s snowy and freezing but this year it feels almost like summer. There is a full moon rising behind our neighbor’s house. I bet Ray is on his front porch, watching the full moon, too. If I knew where he lived, I could visit him for Halloween. Or Ms. Simmons. I know she lives in an apartment downtown, but I don’t know exactly where.

  I get the watercolors out of my desk drawer and paint a picture of the full moon. Some people say there’s a man in the moon. Mom says in China they say it’s an old lady. To me it looks like a frog, so that’s what I paint.

  The doorbell rings and I wonder why the trick-or-treaters are coming early. But it’s Laura. She’s not wearing a costume and her face is all red.

  “What about Snap, Crackle, and Pop!?” I ask.

  She doesn’t answer.

  “Come in,” Mom says to her.

  She steps inside the front door and takes a deep breath. “Smells good.”

  Mom offers her a caramel apple. She takes it and starts licking the caramel off the outside. I know she won’t even eat the apple because she throws food out all the time at school. Mom says people all over the world are hungry so we save all our leftovers and eat them later.

  Ken and Michael are decorating their candy bags. “Astronauts?” Laura asks.

  “Yup.”

  “Aren’t you trick-or-treating?” she asks me.

  It’s almost dark. Across the street I see the Wilsons’ jack-o’-lantern glowing on their porch. “I don’t know,” I say. “I thought you were going to be Snap, Crackle, and Pop! with Allison.”

  “I’m not anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  Laura’s eyes get watery. Then she shrugs. “What do you want to be?”

  “Little Blue and Little Yellow,” I say quickly. As soon as the words are out of my mouth I wish I could take them back. Little Blue and Little Yellow is a book we had in preschool.

  “I love that book,” Laura says.

  We tear big circles out of blue and yellow construction paper. Then we cover some cardboard with white paper and tape the circles onto it with packaging tape.

  “How are we going to wear this costume?” Laura asks.

  “I’ll show you,” I say, using the tip of the scissors to make two holes near the top of the cardboard. Then I put a piece of clothesline through the holes and knot it in front and in back so we can put the cardboard over our heads and it will hang on our shoulders.

  “You’re good at making things,” Laura says, trying on the costume.

  We go upstairs and look at ourselves in the bathroom mirror. Suddenly Laura hugs me. “Now we should turn green,” she says.

  “That used to be my favorite part of the book.”

  “Mine too,” Laura says.

  I look at the clock in the hallway and something catches my eye. Mom has put the landscape I painted in a thin black frame and it is hanging next to the clock.

  “Fifteen more minutes until trick or treat starts,” I say.

  “What should we do while we’re waiting?” Laura asks.

  We go into my room. It’s hard to move with the cardboard costumes on but there’s no reason to take them off for fifteen minutes. Laura sees the watercolors on my desk. “Hey, where’d you get these tiny paints?”

  “From
a man whose wife used to be a painter,” I say. “But she died, so he gave me them to me.”

  “I love miniature stuff like that,” she says. Then she sees my moon picture. “Cool. I like how you made a design in the moon.”

  “It’s a frog,” I say.

  “Why’d you put a frog in the moon?” she asks. “That’s what they think it is, in China.”

  Laura looks out the window. “What else do Chinese people think?”

  Suddenly I feel so hot I can hardly stand it. How should I know what Chinese people think when I’ve only been to China once when I was a baby? I see two girls coming up the street wearing ice skating costumes. One of them is Allison.

  I turn to Laura. “Why aren’t you trick-or-treating with Allison?”

  “She got mad at me,” Laura says. “She’s always mad if I don’t do exactly what she says. So she decided to trick-or-treat only with Lucy.”

  I feel sorry for Laura. But then I know, if Allison hadn’t changed her mind, I would be alone.

  “It’s six o’clock,” Ken shouts up the stairs. “Come on.”

  Most of the houses we go to think we are a Visa card. They never even heard of Little Blue and Little Yellow. But that’s okay, because our bags are full of candy by the time we make it around the whole block.

  When we get back home, Laura’s mom comes to get her. She helps Laura take the costume off and sets it on the floor. “Thank you,” she says, more to Mom than to me. “You helped us in a pinch.”

  “A pinch?” Mom asks.

  “You know how girls are,” Laura’s mom says, rolling her eyes.

  Laura asks her mom if she can stay at our house for a while longer, but her mom says it’s not nice to wear out your welcome.

  “See you tomorrow,” Laura says to me.

  “Do you want to keep the costume?” I ask.

  Laura shakes her head. “No thanks.” She is already out the door.

  Ken and I are sorting our candy on the rug. Kit Kats, M&M’s, Jolly Ranchers, and bubblegum. “Where should I put this?” Ken asks, holding up some sort of sour apple candy.

  “We need a miscellaneous pile.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Things that don’t fit into other categories.”

  “Like odds and ends?” Mom asks.

  I didn’t even know she was listening while she was reading her anatomy book. “Sort of.”

  Mom writes the word on a file card. Then she asks me what “in a pinch” means.

  “Like in trouble,” I say.

  “Like Mr. Shepherd was in a pinch when he fell,” Mom says. Then she wraps two caramel apples in wax paper and puts them into a paper bag.

  “Are those for Mr. Shepherd?”

  Mom nods.

  “Can we take them over now?”

  Mom looks surprised. “We could wait until Saturday.”

  “But the apples will be old by then,” I say. “And I bet Mr. Shepherd would like to see our Halloween costumes.”

  “I already took mine off,” Ken says, “and I don’t feel like putting that snorkel thing back on.”

  I pick up the yellow cardboard and put it over Ken’s head. “Now you can be Little Yellow,” I say. Before we leave, I run upstairs to get my moon picture.

  ***

  Dad waits for us in the car.

  Mr. Shepherd opens the door right away. “Trick or treat!” Ken and I say at the same time.

  Mom hands him the package. He opens the bag and takes a sniff. “Could it be my favorite caramel apples?”

  Mom smiles. “Happy Halloween.”

  I hand him my picture.

  “Thank you kindly,” he says. Then he notices our costumes. “Now, let me guess. Something blue and yellow. What’s that book? I used to read it to my grandsons.”

  “Little Blue and Little Yellow!” I say.

  When we get back to the car, I look up at the tall building. The light is on in Mr. Shepherd’s apartment. He is out on the balcony, waving, and in his other hand, he is holding my picture.

  Six

  Giving Thanks

  It’s almost Thanksgiving, so Ms. Simmons asks what we are thankful for.

  “God,” Lucy says.

  William raises his hand. “I’m thankful because my grandmother almost died last year, but now she’s doing better.”

  “I’m thankful for my whole family,” Allison says.

  Ms. Simmons tells us to write a paragraph about what we are thankful for in our lives. She says it can be something small or something big. She asks us to start with prewriting by making a list about all the possible subjects. Then we’re supposed to pick one for the paragraph.

  I don’t know what to write. I am thankful that we have a library close to our house, but there’s not much more to say about that. I am thankful that we have a big trunk full of fabric scraps. I am thankful that Ray is our crossing guard. But I don’t think I can write a whole paragraph about any of those things. Time is going by and everyone around me has already decided what to write about. Suddenly I remember that on my last birthday, Dad brought home a big package with twelve mini cereal boxes from the Quik Stop. I could hardly believe it because we usually got the store brand cereal in big plastic bags because it was cheaper.

  I start writing:

  I am thankful because for my birthday, I got an unusual present from my dad. Twelve mini cereal boxes! We had so much fun deciding who would get which cereal. Finally I started with Frosted Flakes and my brother started with Corn Pops. That present lasted for a long time, and I saved the boxes. I still have them in a bag under my bed. I don't know what I'm going to do with them yet, but I'll think of something eventually.

  “Finish up,” Ms. Simmons says after a while. “And then I’d like you to do an illustration to go with your paragraph.”

  I draw twelve small boxes and on each one, I write the type of cereal that’s inside: Corn Pops, Frosted Flakes, Froot Loops, Special K. That’s the one none of us wanted.

  Laura is drawing a picture of her family. She draws her mother in the middle, with her and her two brothers. Her father is on the edge of the page. She’s good at drawing the faces with real expressions. Her father has a mad face with big teeth. Allison draws her puppy with white colored pencil. She looks over at my paper.

  “Fill up your paper,” she says. “That’s what the teacher said.”

  I never heard Ms. Simmons say that. On top of the picture I write, I am thankful for the mini cereal boxes.

  Ms. Simmons is walking around our classroom. She looks at my picture and smiles. “It’s cious, not too cluttered,” she says Then she whispers, “I like mini cereal boxes, too. You can use the box for a bowl if you want.”

  “You can?”

  She nods. “It comes in handy when you’re camping.” When we’re done, Ms. Simmons collects our papers. She says that she hopes we all have :e Thanksgiving, and that she’ll's after the holiday break.

  There is lots of traffic. People are picking up their kids to go visit grandparents. My grandparents are for away in China and in San Fran, so we can’t go there for just a visit.

  Ray holds out his sign and the cars stop. “Don’t eat too much pumpkin pie,” he says, “or you’ll come back looking roly-poly like me.”

  “You aren’t roly-poly,” I say.

  He pats his stomach. “The missus says I’m starting my diet. After Thanksgiving, that is.”

  “The missus” sounds so funny.

  Laura catches up to me. She is kicking a sweet gum ball. “Hey,” she says. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

  I have to think fast. We aren’t having turkey because we like duck with honey and soy sauce better. I’m probably going to read at least one new library book every day. “I don’t know yet. I think my mom’s going to take her driver’s test.”

  “What?”

  “She’s trying to get her driver’s license.”

  “My mom’s had hers forever,” Laura says. She takes a deep breath. “We’re g
oing to Michigan,” she says. “And we’re taking Allison with us.” She looks at me sideways. “Sorry. My mom said I could only take one friend.” She takes a deep breath. “And you know how Allison is. If I didn’t invite her, I bet she’d never talk to me again.”

  I don’t really care how Allison is. I could tell that to Laura but she won’t stop talking. “We have these toboggans,” she says. “You know, the old-fashioned kind of sleds that go really fast.”

  I don’t care about sleds and toboggans. I want to go home and read my new library book that has a picture of a small girl with a big sky on the front I have it in my book bag and I could take it out and read-walk right now.

  “Have you ever been to Michigan?” Laura asks.

  I’ve never been to Michigan and I never want to go. I shake my head.

  “Maybe next year I can invite you.” She kicks the sweet gum ball into the street.

  If she wanted to, Laura could have told her mother that she wanted to invite me, not Allison. But she didn’t. It doesn’t matter because I would not want to sleep in somebody else’s bed for three nights without Mom and Dad and Ken. And Laura and her brothers fight all the time. Anyway who knows about next year?

  I don’t say anything. I’m trying to walk faster than Laura but she’s trying hard to keep up. Then she says, “Or maybe next year I can stay with you over Thanksgiving”

  “We don’t go anywhere.”

  “That’s okay. Andrew and David are mean and they won’t ever let me have a ride on the toboggan. And my mom and dad are always fighting. So if I want to stay at your house next year, can I?”

  I don’t know what to say. I’m not much for sleepovers, and neither is Mom. She says in China, she never heard of children sleeping at friends’ houses.

  “We don’t have turkey,” I say finally.