Girl in Translation

I thought about her housekeeper, who had looked so dry and serious. She didn’t seem like someone I could trust. If only Mrs. Avery were going to pick A

“Why not?”

“She don’t help.” I knew it was true. “And I’m not a telly-tale.”

A

I shook my head. I was afraid of Luke but I was more afraid of grown-ups. Maybe A

A

I wanted to agree. But how could I show them where I lived? And Ma was expecting me at the factory. Besides, Luke would just wait for me tomorrow, or the day after that. It would only get worse. He’d been staring at me for a while now.

“No,” I said. “I fight him.”

After school, I could taste the sour from my stomach in my mouth. I’d never been struck before. Even though I’d often seen fights in the school yard, I’d never been punched or kicked or spit upon. I had never hit anyone either. I’d done some tai chi in the park with Ma back home, but since most of the other students had been in their seventies, what we’d learned had hardly trained me for a street fight in Brooklyn.

Everyone had heard about the brawl, and a tight circle of kids reined us in. The words fight fight fight pulsed in the air like drumbeats. A

I did not run. There was no place to run to. I felt a great stubbor

“What the fuh you saying?” Luke said.

I didn’t answer. I continued under my breath as if I were praying. We circled each other, his shadow looming over me.

“You’re so weird,” he said. Suddenly, he took off his book bag and swung it, thwacking me in the side. The blow twisted me around, so that my back was to him, and I felt a thud on my book bag, from where he’d kicked me. I took off my bag and co

“Shit!” he cried. For a second, something wild flared in his eyes but he still didn’t strike me again. Instead, he took my shoulder in one hand and gave a casual push, so that I stumbled back a few steps. Then he swung his bag over his shoulder and sauntered away.

A

I didn’t tell her otherwise, but I knew that I couldn’t fight, that I hadn’t fought. I walked home in a daze. He could have killed me. What had happened?

The next day, Mrs. LaGuardia, the principal, opened our classroom door in the middle of Social Studies and said, “Mr. Bogart, I need to see Kimberly Chang.”

A number of kids whispered “Ooooooh” and clasped their hands against their mouths. Even though quite a number of jokes about La Guardia Airport were made behind her back, Mrs. LaGuardia was well respected and universally feared. I felt my chest freeze. I glanced over at Luke, who didn’t meet my eyes. Who had told on us?

Mr. Bogart nodded. “Do try to be good, Kimberly.”

I had to hurry to keep up with Mrs. LaGuardia’s smooth strides. When we reached her office, she shut the door behind us and took off her spectacles, letting them hang over her bosom on a silvery chain. I sat on the chair facing her desk and my feet barely brushed the floor. I knew what happened to students in the principal’s office: they were a

“The results of the national test scores have just arrived. Miss Kumar noty yours and asked me to take a look. Especially your math scores are very something. Of course, your reading scores are low.”

I stared at my fingernails and my blood thudded harder. I understood this meant that my English scores were not good enough, an embarrassment to the school. I was going to be suspended on the grounds of grades and fighting. Or perhaps they’d found out about my forgeries of Ma’s signature too.

“Tell me, what are you pla

So that was it. I was going to be kept back. Everyone else would graduate from the sixth grade except for me. How could I hide this from Ma? I was really going to be in trouble when I got home. I slunk down lower and tried to think of an answer that would appease her.

“Honey, look at me.”

I was so startled by the word “honey” that I obeyed. I had heard Mrs. Avery using it for A

“You’re not in trouble,” she said.

I straightened a bit in my chair even though I knew better than to believe her.

“Unfortunately, there aren’t many good choices when it comes to public junior high schools in this area. I’ve been lobbing to change this fact because all of our children deserve to go someplace first-rate after graduation, but this is still the way it is. The closest public junior high school is still quite far from here and it’s not in the safest neighborhood. A child of your cola brr usually gets into one of the specialized public schools for bright children, but your English scores aren’t high enough yet. I also know you haven’t had the easiest time here so far.”

I was looking at the seat of my chair again: the upholstery was violently green. I felt vaguely sick.

She went on. “The truth is, Kimberly, I’m worried about what might happen to you if you get thrown into a school without the faciltees to help you nur chore your abilities. Off the record, I think you should consider a private school. Most of our students wouldn’t have a really stick chance of getting in or of being able to pay for it, but you might.”

Now I was alarmed for a different reason. Somehow, Mrs. LaGuardia had mistaken me for one of the white kids, the ones who had housekeepers waiting at home, ready with an afternoon snack. I had to play it cool until I could get out of that office, throw her off the scent and then bolt.

“Thank you, Mrs. LaGuardia,” I said.

“I know of several good schools, if you should need some names,” she said.

I stared at her blankly.

“Do you want some recordy shunts?” she repeated.

“No, thank you.” I was too quick to answer.

She looked at me. No one ever said Mrs. LaGuardia was dumb. “Don’t you want to go to private school, Kimberly?” She was begi

I shook my head and stared at the floor.

She sighed. “It’s your decision.”

I could hear she’d given up and instead of feeling relieved, the unhappiness in me grew heavier.