Inside Out and Back Again (16 page)

It’s time to tell Mother

why misery

keeps pouncing on me.

I used to buy less pork

so I could buy fried dough.

I know.

You do?

What else?

I used to like making the girl

who shared my desk cry.

She tilts her head.

I know, Mother, I know, very bad.

She nods.

Now they make me cry.

Will I be punished forever?

Forever is quite long
.

There’s more;

it’s really bad.

She lifts an eyebrow.

At dawn on T
t

I tapped my big toe

to the tile floor

first.

She widens her eyes.

I hate being told I can’t do something because I’m a girl!

She doesn’t scold me,

just nods.

Did I ruin the luck

of the whole family?

Is that why we’re here?

My child,

how you shoulder the world!

I was superstitious,

that’s all.

If anything,

you gave us luck

because we got out

and we’re here.

Lucky

to be
here?

Just wait,

you’ll see.

I don’t want to wait.

It’s awful
now.

Is it really so unbearable?

They chase me.

They yell “Boo-Da, Boo-Da” at me.

They pull my arm hair.

They call me Pancake Face.

They clap at me in class.

And you want me to wait?

Can I hit them?

Oh, my daughter,

at times you have to fight,

but preferably

not with your fists.

November 14

Brother Quang takes us

to the grocery store.

Mother buys everything

to make egg rolls

for a coming holiday

when Americans eat a turkey

the size of a baby.

She has me ask the butcher,

Please grind our pork.

I’m sure I said it right,

but the butcher

sharpens his face,

slams down our meat,

and motions us away.

Mother wrinkles her brows,

thinking, pausing,

then rings the buzzer again.

Please,
she says.

It comes out,
Peezzz
.

The butcher turns away

without a word.

Mother presses the buzzer

for a long time.

When the butcher returns,

he hears a lot of Vietnamese

in a voice stern and steady,

from eyes even more so.

Mother ends with a clear,
NOW!

The butcher stares

then takes our meat

to the grinder.

November 22

u
Face

Again they’re yelling,

Boo-Da, Boo-Da
,

but I know to run

toward Brother Khôi

two corners away.

Enough time

for them to repeat

hundreds of
Boo-Da
s.

Enough time

for me to turn and yell,

Gee-sus, Gee-sus
.

I love how they stop,

mouths open.

My heart lifting,

I run and shout,

Bully!

Coward!

Pink Snot Face!

Words I learned from them

on the playground.

I turn to see

Pink Boy coming

close to me.

No longer pink,

he’s red,

blood-orange red

like a ripe papaya.

u
Face!

It’s not my fault

if his friends hear

Doo-doo Face

and are laughing

right at him.

Brother Khôi is waiting.

I jump on.

December 4

Friday

SSsì-Ti-Vân heard it from Pem

who heard it from the honey-hair girl

who heard it from the dot-on-face girl

who heard it from the white-hair boy

who heard it from all three girls in braids

that

Pink Boy

has gotten his sixth-grade cousin,

a girl two heads taller than the tallest of us,

with arm muscles that run up and down like mice,

to agree

to beat me up

when we come back

Monday.

December 5

I don’t have to tell Brother Khôi,

who heard in the halls

of
his
school

that my face

is to be flattened

flatter

tomorrow.

You don’t have a flat face,

he says.

Besides, I have a plan
.

December 7

Five minutes

till the last bell

I lean toward the door,

legs bouncing,

books left on the floor.

Rrriiinnggg

I run,

Pem and SSsì-Ti-Vân

close behind.

Outside

Pem and I exchange

coats with hoods.

Pem heads down

my usual path.

I zip to the left.

SSsì-Ti-Vân

stays to block the door.

Running so fast,

I fly above the sidewalk.

Alone.

They must all be with Pem.

I stop at the new corner

where Brother Khôi said to wait.

Where is he?

Footsteps explode

from the street

that smacks into mine.

Pink Boy!

December 8
3:36 p.m.

Pink Boy plows

toward me.

I squat in
ng t
n
,