The Trouble Begins (17 page)

She calls the kids from the high reading group up to the front. They read out of the social studies book while she works at her desk. Sometimes she looks up. She pulls a card from her deck of cards with our names on them. “Read the next sentence, please,” she asks the kid whose name is on the card. She puts a star next to the kid's name if they know where we are in the book. Once she pulls out a card and just puts it on the bottom of the deck. Kids sneak looks at me. She knows I'll just shrug. I don't care about stars.

I think I'll blow up into pieces, I'm so bored. I even decide to beg for the bathroom pass. But I'm saved. “I think we're all getting a little antsy, aren't we?” Mrs. Dorfman stands up. I don't know
antsy
but I see kids lift their heads and look hopeful. “You've been such wonderful listeners. We'll all go out for a game of Perimeter before practice for the… winter holiday program,” she says.

Perimeter sounds like a dumb math kind of game but it has to be a lot better than social studies. We stuff our social studies books in our desks while she talks over the noise. She starts with “As you know” like she does all the time and I don't know but neither do a lot of other kids.

“As you know, the edge of the blacktop is the perimeter …”

Good, it's not math; we're going outside.

“One student will be the Perimeter Master. The rest of you will try very hard not to let the Perimeter Master tag you.”

We'll be running around. Great. The Perimeter Master will never catch me.

“The first two students caught are the perimeter
assistants. They'll help the Perimeter Master until everyone is caught. Anyone else who is caught sits on the perimeter until the game is over. Last one caught is the new Perimeter Master.”

Everyone is waving their hands to be the Perimeter Master. Except me. If she chooses me I'll just walk around with my hands in my pockets and not catch anyone and we'll be able to stay out all day. But she won't choose me. She smiles at the waving hands. “I'll use the cards,” she says, holding up the deck. It's suddenly quiet while she pulls out a card. “Veronica.” She calls out the name. Everyone else groans or laughs because Veronica'll never catch anyone except maybe Rosaria, who's as slow as she is. I'm happy. It's just like choosing me. The game'll last forever. Mrs. Dorfman's taking her work and her chair out today so she wants it to last long too.

Veronica's chugging around all sweaty already but she can't catch anyone. Anthony and Jorge sneak up really close to her. She lunges at them. They run away backward and she still can't catch them. The teacher's head is down looking at her papers.

“Hey, Beefaroni, Beefaroni, catch me,” Anthony yells, darting past her. She doesn't even try. Beefaroni is like Du Du. I lean down with my back to her and untie and tie my shoe. I take my time. She comes up and whops me on the
back. “I got you,” she pants. Kids laugh. They think she caught me because I'm dumb.

“Showtime,” I say softly to myself. Anthony yells “showtime” when he thinks he'll get me out in four-square. I go after him. He's fast but he's not as fast as me. I get him cornered near the wall-ball backstop. I almost whack him when I remember. I don't want him to be the second assistant. He might like that.

“Hey, Dude,” yells Todd. “You can't get me.” Dude, he says. He doesn't call me Du Du even though we're far away from the teacher. Dude is a good name. I go after him. He's big but he's not slow. He laughs when I catch him. Together we herd six kids including Anthony along the perimeter near the swing set. We tag them all. Veronica plods over too and gets somebody. They all have to sit down. Todd and I race for the others on the far side with Veronica puffing along behind. We clear the whole blacktop in a few minutes. The teacher looks up from her papers. “Last one out is the new Perimeter Master,” she calls. We start running around all over again. It's fun.

The winter holiday program practice is boring. I wish it was over so I could go home and see Cat and her kittens. Everybody who didn't get a special part like me is in the angel chorus. We sit in our regular seats. We get stapled papers with the words to the music. We're supposed to share but I
just give mine to Jorge. I don't want to sing about stupid reindeer that fly. When the Tet part comes, the dragon comes out like it's afraid. It walks like a cow. I kind of wish I was back in the last dragon box so I could kick around a little.

The wall clock shows five minutes until time to go home.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
blares from the wall speaker. We jump in our seats. Kids laugh and look around.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
It won't stop. It's the duck and cover signal we practice in class. Veronica and Rosaria scrunch down but there's no room under the seats. Kids are laughing because no one knows what to do. Anthony does a handstand with his head in the row and his feet waving around. Everybody laughs. The teachers hurry around whispering to each other. The dragon onstage sinks down to the floor.

The principal hurries in. “Stay calm, everybody. Stay in your seats!” he shouts. Right in the middle the beeper stops and he's still shouting. We laugh. He looks nervous. “This is not a practice.” He's still shouting but not as loud. “There is a SWAT-team action in the neighborhood. We will stay at school until the all clear sounds.”

“I gotta get my little brother.”

“I got basketball practice.”

“My mom's waiting for me.” Kids all yell at once. The principal raises his hand for the quiet sign. He yells above the voices. “I'm counting on you fifth graders to set an example for the school.” I don't know how we can set an example. There's nobody in here but fifth graders. I wonder what's going on outside. I wish there was a window so I could see.

“You may sit quietly in your seats,” he continues. “Ms. Plinsky will lead you in singing some songs.” That's hard too, sing and be quiet. Ms. Plinsky starts singing “Sweet Betsy from Pike.” It's a social studies song but it's not bad. It's about people who roll around on the ground because they're hungry and thirsty. But nobody sings with Ms. Plinsky because no one knows the words. The songbooks are all in the classrooms. Now kids are getting really antsy, as Mrs. Dorfman says. I feel very antsy. One kid starts to cry because he's supposed to be home by three-fifteen, no matter what. I wonder what happens to him if he's late. Ms. Plinsky goes away to look for music.

Mr. Unger, the teacher of the smart kids' fifth grade, leaves his smart kids and vaults onto the stage. “Mental math,” he shouts with his fist in the air. “My class challenges the rest of you to a mental math competition.” He explains it while the other teachers tear the Christmas song sheets into strips and pass one out to everybody. Someone goes over to the media room to get library pencils. The pencils are short and don't have any erasers so no one will steal them. We each get one. We put our names on our papers. Mr. Unger will shout out math problems and we just put the answer on our paper. If we try to work the problem on the paper we're out of the contest. Usually I don't do this stuff but today I think I will. In the Philippines I helped my grandma sell food she cooked. We didn't have paper or pencil or anything but our heads there when we made change. No cash register. No calculator. Just a blanket or a table under a tree. Lots of people came. Her spring rolls and her soup with vegetables
and noodles were so good people pushed around us to get some before we ran out. I had to do the money fast and right.

Mr. Unger yells, “Fire up your brains. Here we go. No talking. Just write the answers. Eight times eight hundred.” Groans from my row. I write the answer. “One third of fifteen.” I see Anthony's down my row writing the problem on his paper. He's erasing it with a pencil he had in his pocket. He's already behind. He can't do math no matter how he cheats. Mr. Unger starts going faster. The problems get harder. I see kids near me quit. We get to number thirty. “Seven times three hundred forty. Write. Okay? Stop!” Mr. Unger yells to pass the papers to the end of the row. “If they're late you're out. One, two, three.” He runs down the aisle collecting the papers. “Who didn't miss a beat?” he yells as he runs back up the aisle. Most of the kids in his smart class shoot their hands up in the air. No one else does. He smacks his fist into his hand. “Way to go,” he yells. He's proud of them. I kind of wish I was in his class. “And now…,” he yells, jumping back on the stage. He stops because the all clear bell rings. He laughs. “And now we'll all go home,” he yells over the sound of kids. “You've been great. Have a great afternoon.” Mrs. Dorfman is grabbing Alex because he's running. I go home to see Cat. Todd walks out with me.

“See ya, Dude,” he says at the bike rack.

“See ya,” I say.

I see some police cars on Fortieth Street on my way home. I hear people saying that a man robbed a store but there's nothing to see now. If he robbed the store when I was
coming home from school maybe I would have caught him. I'd be on television and the kids at school would see it.

At home everything is crazy. My sister Lin is crying because she got a B on a test. She never gets anything but As. My dad slams in the front door. Is he mad because Lin got a B? “You kids are gonna do it whether you want to or not!” he yells. Do what? He's yelling at Thuy and Lin and Vuong. This is interesting. I sneak in to listen.

“My friends'll see me,” Thuy mutters. “I have to study.”

“It's so early. We won't be able to do anything else all day.”

“It hardly pays anything.” I never heard them argue with him before. Their voices are soft like they almost don't dare to have him hear.

My dad's fist slams down on the table. The heavy books jump. “When they call we say yes. And that's that!” Thuy and Lin and Vuong all look down at the table but they don't say yes. My dad stands staring at the tops of their heads. Maybe for the first time they won't do what he wants. “That's that,” he repeats. He slams out the door to go back to work.

I ask Vuong when he comes to watch TV. “He wants us to get up at four in the morning to deliver Sunday papers,” he tells me. “It pays about nothing. Thuy told him no on the phone and he came running home.”

“How come he wants to do it if it pays nothing?” I ask. I
know my dad doesn't leave work and come running home for nothing.

“Well, it pays a little bit but not enough to get up at four a.m.,” complains Vuong. “He'll make us save all the money anyway.”

“For what?” I ask. My dad never buys the stuff you see on TV.

“He wants to send us to college and buy a house,” answers Vuong like it's something he's heard from our dad over and over again.

College is more school. “I don't want to go to college and we got a house,” I answer, and shrug.

“He wants to own a house, not rent one, and we want to go to college.” Vuong doesn't want to talk to me about it anymore. He looks at the TV.

“Will you do it?” I ask.

“I don't want to,” he answers. “Maybe they'll never call.” “You could answer the phone and say we don't want the job. He'll never know,” I say. I just say it for fun but Vuong turns to look at me funny. He goes in the dining room to whisper to Thuy and Lin.

I go to look for my grandma but she's sleeping. I climb through the shed window and sit with Cat and her kittens. I scratch her chin. She purrs. The kittens wiggle around trying to get the best place to eat. I think about a place to hide them from the old man. Maybe Cat knows best.