The Trouble Begins Page 7

Lin is so happy to see me when I come home from school late that it's embarrassing. We all look at the plants with the little hairs and the ones without them. “Those are 'glabrous,'” announces Lin. “Most Americans don't even know that word. It means 'smooth, no hairs.'”

  “Glabrous,” I repeat. “Smooth, no hairs… bald.” Ha. That old man is glabrous and he doesn't even know it. I'll use it in an essay for Mrs. Dorfman and when she marks it wrong I will tell her what it means.

  Thuy and Vuong slap me on the back and tell me how great it is that I saved Lin even though Thuy does say, “What were you going to do with those, anyway?”

  “I have to write a personal narrative about a trip I took with my family, and the place we went, and the trip back,” I announce. “Will you help me?” They exchange sideways looks. The only place our family goes is Orange and I don't go with them. “I want to tell about going to the Philippines with Grandma,” I say, “but I was too little to remember. I know what we did after we got there when I grew older.”

  “Sure, Du. Sit down here. We'll do it right now.” Lin would do almost anything for me now. I wonder if I should waste it on a personal narrative. Then I think about how much she cares about her schoolwork. I'll do a good one once and see what happens.

  “Now, about the trip,” says Lin, all busy with her paper and pencils ready. “Let's get started.”

  “Ba and Ma won't tell me anything and Grandma gets sad if I ask and just wants to tell me stories.”

  “Why do you want to tell that stuff?” asks Thuy. Vuong gets up and leaves the room.

  “Because it's my trip!” I'm not going to let them start taking over everything I want to do.

  Vuong comes back. “Here,” he says, throwing an old newspaper picture on the table. “Here's your trip.” We all stare.

  In the picture is a little wooden boat pointed at one end and straight at the other. Even without color I can tell the boat is all beaten up and unpainted. It tips a little to one side. The front part is open but the back part has a roof over it. It isn't the boat that's important. There are about forty or fifty Vietnamese people crowded in the front part and on the roof. From the two windows in the side of the boat you can see there are more inside. The people are all staring at whoever is taking the picture, probably on another boat a little way across the water. None of the people are smiling the way Americans do for a picture. They are all skinny and there is a woman with her face hidden under a big hat holding a little boy to keep him from falling off the roof.

  I can't believe it. “Is that my boat?” I whisper.

  “Nah,” answers Vuong. “The newspaper is from 1980 and you went around 1978. But under the picture it says it's a boatload of Vietnamese refugees in the South China Sea. I got it from Nahn up in Orange. He said it's like the one you and Grandma went to the Philippines on. She and Auntie sold their gold bracelets to get a ride. A lot of people drowned or got robbed or killed by pirates but your boat made it.”

  Vuong knows some other stuff too and he calls Nahn in Orange to find out some more. Thuy and Lin help me write. I won't let them change what I say too much even though they want to make everything better. Lin wants it perfect but I laugh and say then Mrs. Dorfman will know it's not my story. By dinnertime I have a personal narrative with plenty of pages so I draw some little pictures along the edges and a cover because Lin says I should. It's ready to turn in.

  My Family Trip

  by Du

  My family trip was with my grandma and my aunt from Vietnam to the Philippines. Part of my family, which was my dad and mom and my sisters and brother, came to America right away from Vietnam but I was little and had TB and so did my grandma so we went to the Philippines to get better. We stayed there a long time. Then we came to America last summer. We decided to go to the Philippines because there was a war in Vietnam and even after the war there was nothing to eat and no good place to live. My aunt went with us for a while but then she left. My grandma and aunt sold gold jewelry to get a ride on a boat. The boat was very old and tippy and sneaked out at night from the shore so no one would stop us. I don't remember this because I was too little but my uncle told my brother. Everybody got sick because the boat was little and bobbed around so much in the waves. We didn't get attacked by pirates and the boat didn't tip over so we made it. It took a long time. I don't remember where we stayed when we first got to the Philippines but they had special camps for people from Vietnam.

  Our camp wasn't like a camp in America. I got older there because we were there about eight years while we waited. We lived in different houses. The houses there were not in rows with streets and sidewalks like houses here. Some had concrete floors but most were very little and parts of them were made out of thatch from the kind of trees they have there. Sometimes we lived with other people my grandma knew and sometimes just us. Sometimes the wind blew very hard and long and there was dust in the air and sometimes it rained a long time and got muddy. There was a well near the houses and in some places faucets not far away. A lot of airplanes flew over the camp.

  We waited in lines for long hours in the hot sun to get bags of rice and beans and sometimes sugar. When I was older I figured out how to squeeze into the lines when people looked the other way. If they yelled at me I just ducked away further up the line. I learned where to get mangoes and bananas too because we liked them. I got the food so my grandma didn't have to stand and wait in line. When my grandma felt good we sold food she made. Our store was a blanket near the road. Her food sold fast. She made spring rolls and little golden round buns. She burned pieces of thatch and wood I collected for her in our little black stove so she could cook. I collected the money. Other people sold noodles and jewelry and other stuff. If we made enough money I went to school. There we all sat squished up on benches to learn English and math and history. We all talked Vietnamese. The best time was when we didn't have enough money for school. Me and my friends would run down to the ocean or around the edges of the camp or play cards or marbles or have cricket fights if it was raining. I would catch great big shiny beetles and tie them on a string and follow them when they flew. If we found a dead bird we made feather birdies and kicked them around a circle with our feet. I never missed. I would like to go back to my friends there and run along the ocean right now. I would give away the rolls we sold so I would never have to sit on the school benches. I'd be outside almost all day.

  When we got over having TB we still had to wait to come to America. My dad sent money so we could buy plane tickets and come to live with him and my mom and my sisters and brother. We flew in an airplane that took days and nights to get here because the Philippines are on the other side of the world and also we waited a long time in airports.

  The End

  I have my personal narrative in my notebook. If I turned it in now it would be late but Mrs. Dorfman just collected Tiffany's and Jorge's. “Better late than never,” she said. “I'll take ten points off your final score for each late day.”

  She asks for volunteers to read theirs. Alan volunteers to read about his trip to Carlsbad Beach in an RV. Then Emily reads about some place but she talks so soft and it's so boring that I don't listen. After Anthony reads his, Mrs. Dorfman says, “I'd like to speak to you after class, Anthony.”

  “How come?” he blurts. “I did it.”

  “Are you sure you didn't get quite a bit of help?” she asks with her eyebrows up. Anthony mutters about how she blames him for everything, and slumps down in his seat. Veronica's trip to Mexico takes less than a minute to read. Kids are squirming around like me and nobody's listening. Mrs. Dorfman's grading our spelling tests. She handed back my Disneyland paper with the others but I don't volunteer. I almost raise my hand to read my real personal narrative but then I start to think about it. Maybe they won't believe it about the pirates and the boat and the jewelry. Mrs. Dorfman might not like the part about cutting in line and Anthony will laugh and say we were “trash pickers.” It's not really what Mrs. Dorfman said we should write an
yway because it took years and years, not a week or a few days. And also it's late so it won't get a good grade anyway. I don't want a D on this paper. She'll say I didn't write it because Thuy and Lin helped me. And then I think that I just don't want her or any of them to read it or hear it now. It's mine. I just found out myself about the boat. Vuong said hundreds of thousands of people died in those boats. I'll just keep it for myself and maybe someday if I have American kids I'll let them read it.

  The Bicycle

  I can get through that little window so fast now the old man couldn't see me if he could see around corners. He's got boxes of Christmas junk in this trunk. Strings of lights and colored balls. Some of them are broken but I didn't break them. Maybe that boy in the picture album did. I bet that's his box of metal parts way down in the bottom of the trunk. I wonder what he made with it. I could make almost anything out of this stuff. These little gears and rods fit right onto the wheels. I wish I had one of these sets but I never even saw one in a store. It's very old. It would cost a lot new. That boy in the picture must be the old man's son. He must have played stupid baseball all the time. He's got on baseball clothes in almost every picture. The lady must be his mother. She smiles nice. I wonder what happened to them. I never saw anyone come to see that mean old man. I guess that's why he spies on us all the time. I still owe him back for when he stank up my shoes and called the police about the blackberries. I gotta think of something good. The lawn mower doesn't count because he put it back together right in front of our window.

  Maybe I shouldn't have left the little machine I made in the shed. It's too good to take apart. I don't think that old man will find it. Now I've got nothing to do. “Do your homework.” That's what they'll say if I go inside. It's trash collection day. The alley's got a lot of junk in it. I'll find something for my catapult.

  A bike! A real kid's bike sticking out from under this smelly old mattress. Somebody crashed it but I can fix it. I'll straighten the wheels and handlebars. The seat's missing so I'll make one. It was a good bike before it got crashed. The back tire's still good. I got a lot of work in front of me and I don't want anyone to see. They might not let me keep it.

  The bike's almost finished. I'll melt this old rubber piece to fix the tire. My cat likes to watch me. Burning this rubber stuff makes my nose hurt and my eyes water.

  Who's yelling? “Du, Du!…”

  “What in tarnation's goin' on…?”

  People are yelling all at once like someone's being murdered. Thuy's yelling from our house and the old man's on his back porch yelling. Vietnamese and English all yelled together. I can't understand either one of them.

  I better go see what it is. Ow! Something bites my leg. The grass is on fire! I'm gonna be in trouble. Jump up and down on the grass. Ow! Bare feet aren't good for this. But I have tough feet. It's almost out.

  It was only a little fire. What are they so excited about? Thuy and the old man are both yelling again. They go back inside. They slam the doors. I look at my cat. She's still sitting, watching. She knows I wouldn't let everything burn up. I'll get her something to eat.

  “You love it best when I bring fish, don't you, Cat?” Thuy didn't know I was working on a bike. She thought I was just burning up the grass. Why would I do that? “Here, Cat. Here's an extra piece of fish I saved. You don't have to lick the paper. That's right. Come and get it. I won't hurt you…. Oh yeah, run away now that you've got the fish. See, Cat. You're my pet. You took it right out of my hand and nothing bad happened. See you later.”

  Wow! This bike doesn't go straight but it goes pretty fast. I've got a bike! I'll ride it to school. I'll do wheelies. Air goes out of the tires pretty fast but I can put more air in. Who would leave a bike like this just lying in the alley? Wait till Thuy and Lin and Vuong find out I've got a bike. They never had one. They probably don't even know how to ride one. I only fell over a few times at first. They wouldn't know how to fix the tires and straighten out the handlebars. I wonder if my dad will let me keep it. I'll hide it for a while until I find a seat. He'll say a seat will cost money. I don't need to sit down to ride anyway. To go fast you stand up on the pedals.

  Here comes that old man home from the store. He's staring at me, spying as usual. I'll show him how fast I can go. I'll jump this curb. That old man walks so slow he'd never catch me on this bike. I could go skidding all around him and he'd never lay a finger on me. I ride up behind him on the sidewalk very quiet and go by him so fast he jumps. I'm going to ride all day until dark. I'll just go tell my grandma where I am so she doesn't worry.

  “Du, where'd you get a bike? You give it to me right now!” My dad shouts at me from the porch. I rode too long and he saw me.

  I'm so surprised I don't have time to think. I don't lie to my dad. I'd never lie. “I just borrowed it to ride for a little while. From someone down the alley.” As soon as I say it I know it is wrong. I found it in the alley and I hid it in the alley again but I didn't really borrow it in the alley. Maybe if I just leave it hidden there and don't ride it, it won't matter if I lied. How does my dad know I have a bike? I stayed away from the front of the house but they must have seen me anyway.

  “And don't you go bothering that man next door again. He said you almost ran him over. We don't want any trouble with the neighbors. If I hear of any more…”

  So the old man came over and told my dad about the bike and complained just because I rode by him fast. I wish he'd leave me alone. I hope no one finds the bike in that junky place between the garages. I won't ride it anymore, I guess, but I'll just keep it there for a while.

  Free Orange

  I wish I could ride my bike. I went to visit it for just a minute and it was still there. It's a great bike after I fixed it but now I can't ride it. I'm lucky about one thing, though. Just when I need a bicycle seat I find one in the trash. Just sticking up there like it wants me to find it. It's the old banana-shaped kind that guys don't use anymore but it fit right on the seat post. I rode one circle around the alley with the seat on and then I had to hide it again. I won't ride it.

  That's the front gate slamming. I wonder who it is.

  It's only Lin but she's talking to somebody. She's talking to that old man across the fence.

  “What are you talking to him about?” I meet her at the door.

  “About you, little Du,” she teases, pushing past me.

  “Tell me!” I'm mad. I don't want him to know stuff about me. I'm mad because he told my dad about the bike and now I can't ride it and it's mine. I fixed it. I follow Lin into the dining room.

  “He just wants to know if you're my brother,” she answers, opening her backpack. “I said no,” she adds, laughing. Thuy and Vuong laugh too.

  “I am your brother,” I yell. Lin laughs more. That old man doesn't know about what happened. He doesn't know about the boats that left Vietnam in the dark and if you weren't on them you never got another chance to get out. My mom and dad had to leave me because I was just a baby and my grandma and I had TB. We waited and waited to get medicine and for her to get better. You can't come if you have TB. They wanted to get us here but they couldn't for a long time. Lots of people don't know that here. On TV the families live together forever in big houses.

  I can see that nosy old man out in front. He's looking proud at his big orange tree. Big oranges so ripe they're getting wrinkled but he won't let anybody eat them. There's no way he can eat them all by himself but he keeps them all anyway.

  I've got an idea. If I can't ride my bike he's not going to eat his oranges. I have to find some cardboard in the alley.

  Here, Cat. Your dinner's mostly soy milk and rice but there's a little piece of chicken I saved too. Eat it up. You can watch me while I paint these signs. I had to borrow one of Thuy's black smelly markers to make good big signs. “Neatness makes people want to read what you have to say,” says Mrs. Dorfman. I'm not usually neat but I will be now. See. You're a fat cat lately, Cat. Maybe I better bring you a diet soda like Americans drink.
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  I wish that old man would go someplace. I can't put up the signs unless he's gone. He doesn't have any friends to visit or to eat his oranges because he's so mean. I saw those pictures of his son and his wife. Maybe his wife is dead. He's old. But his son doesn't visit him either.

  Finally that old man is leaving. He's walking to the bus stop with those skinny white legs sticking out of those shorts. Now for his orange tree. I'll put up those signs and he'll get a big surprise when he gets back. I have to be quick and do it when no one is looking. He'll never know it was me. Lots of people like the look of those oranges. Maybe I wish he did know it was me. He has to know he can't spy and wreck my shirt and smell up my shoes and take away my bike and get away with it. He never knew I messed up his lawn mower. At least, he never told my dad. I don't want to do anything to the stuff in his shed now. Cat sleeps there and I don't want him to find her. He might hurt her. And I like to make stuff with that building set in the trunk. I don't want him to figure that out and lock it up. This'll be good enough if it works. It has to work. I'll just put this one sign up fast on his fence right in front of the tree. Now run down the street and put the other one at the busy corner. He'll see it when he comes home but it'll be too late.

  It's fun waiting for the bus in front of my sign. FREEORANGE in big black letters with an arrow. It looks great. Lots of people saw it. Some of them are still down there picking oranges. I didn't pick any so it's not my fault if they're all gone. Here comes the Number 10. That's the one he took.

  He's creaking down the bus stairs. He sees the sign but he doesn't get it. He's got grocery bags to carry. He's getting closer. He can see his orange tree if he looks up. There! He sees it. He's starting to run but it's a pretty slow little run. That Mexican lady's getting in her car with a box of oranges. “Gracias,” she calls. He drops his groceries down to go faster.