Minn and Jake's Almost Terrible Summer Read online

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  To Frances Foster,

  for your patience and support

  1 / Summertime

  A hundred years from now

  when children go to school

  all year round, every day,

  old humpbacks with wrinkles

  and black teeth will say,

  Once upon a time,

  when I was very young,

  there was summer.

  No school. You could sleep

  until noon and play until midnight.

  People ate sweet wet ‘fruit’

  that dangled down

  from living ladders called ‘trees.’

  Summer was when everyone grew

  two inches taller

  and five brains wiser.

  We had nine months of study,

  and summertime to learn.

  ∼

  Jake wakes up and wonders:

  is it July yet?

  He remembers fireworks,

  but he doesn’t remember

  if the fireworks were

  Fourth of July fireworks

  or Dodgers game fireworks

  or New Year’s Day fireworks—

  or last year’s fireworks.

  Has July come and gone?

  Every day the same,

  no camps,

  no lessons,

  no school,

  nothing to have to do:

  Jake’s Dream Summer.

  Jake had begged for this,

  plain old free time,

  one big jumble

  of sleeping

  and eating

  and playing video games.

  Last summer

  was too busy

  with tennis camp

  and science camp

  and swimming lessons

  and music lessons

  and typing lessons,

  camps and lessons,

  lessons and camps,

  one week after the next.

  Jake had begged for nothing to do

  because Jake had not expected

  his brother Soup bouncing

  and bouncing

  and bouncing on the bed

  every single morning

  at six o’clock.

  Jake had not expected

  to be stuffed,

  force-fed five pounds of food each day

  by his grandmother,

  whose summer project

  is to make him grow.

  Jake had not expected

  that his mother

  would plop down on the couch next to him

  and try to learn to play video games,

  blabbing,

  Isn’t this too violent?

  Do we keep on shooting?

  Is he bleeding blue?

  Jake had begged—for this?

  These days of nothing to do

  are moving so achingly s-l-o-w-l-y.

  Yesterday seems a full week ago.

  At the same time, though,

  the weeks seem to be flying by:

  vacation will be over in a month!

  Jake is wondering

  if he has wasted his summer.

  ∼

  Jake is worrying

  about the first day of school.

  When other kids will brag about trips

  to Yosemite

  and Mount Rushmore

  and Niagara Falls

  and the Grand Canyon,

  Mexico, Canada,

  Europe, Asia, Africa, and Australia—

  Jake will have nothing to say.

  Jake is wishing he had agreed to go

  to chess camp, math camp,

  boot camp, any camp.

  Jake makes a note in his notebook:

  Is there camp in Antarctica?

  Jake is wishing

  his family were rich.

  Jake is wishing

  his family went on adventures.

  Jake is wishing

  he had stayed

  home

  in Santa Brunella,

  and while his father worked

  in the city,

  Jake could’ve spent busy days

  with his friend Minn,

  catching lizards

  and digging tunnels for worms.

  Jake doesn’t even like catching lizards

  and digging tunnels for worms,

  but Jake is beginning to feel

  like a rotten plum

  because he hasn’t been a friend

  to Minn all summer.

  He called her twice

  to answer the letters

  she sent him every week,

  but he didn’t leave much of a message

  either time.

  It’s been almost two weeks

  since the last letter,

  so maybe Minn has given up.

  Which would be the right thing

  for her to do.

  Because who ever heard

  of such opposites being friends, anyway—

  should a tall lizard-catching girl

  and a short city boy be best friends?

  2 / The Pits

  Jake had thought

  it would be fun coming back home

  to Los Angeles

  to play with his old friends.

  Jake was wrong.

  The worst part of moving

  is coming back to visit.

  You come back

  to the old neighborhood

  and everyone asks you,

  again and again,

  So, how is it there? You like it?

  YOU: It’s OK.

  THEM: New friends?

  YOU: One friend.

  THEM: ONE friend?

  One friend?

  Only one friend?

  You hate the way

  people ask the same question

  over and over

  when they don’t get the answer they want.

  So you let them win:

  you change the answer.

  YOU: A lot of friends, I guess,

  but only one really good friend.

  Really, really, really good friend.

  THEM: What kind of sports does he do?

  Maybe you shouldn’t have changed the answer.

  Maybe you should’ve let them ask

  the same “one friend” question

  until they got thirsty for a soda pop.

  YOU: She doesn’t do any sports, really. She—

  THEM: She?

  YOU: Yeah, she—she catches lizards.

  THEM: Lizards! Lizards?

  Jake, she whats? SHE?

  Now the trouble really starts.

  They can’t believe

  you have only one friend,

  but that’s nothing
/>
  compared to the fact that it’s a girl.

  She’s a girl. A girl?

  And this girl touches lizards?

  Catches them!

  They ask you to say her name over and over:

  Men? A girl named Men?

  You spell the name.

  You only have one friend—

  a girl named Minn

  (short for Minnie, you lie)—

  who catches lizards.

  They look at you

  and then they look away.

  You know what they’re thinking:

  If you have become strange

  and unpopular,

  then being friends with you

  would make them strange

  and unpopular, too.

  THEM: She’s not your girlfriend, is she?

  YOU: No, NO! She’s TALL!

  I wouldn’t even be able to kiss her

  unless I was standing on a ladder!

  (Oh, no, why did you say that?!)

  You change the subject, quickly.

  Want to go to the movies around four o’clock?

  You’re hoping

  they’ll come to the movies

  and invite you to have dinner,

  play video games, sleep over—

  just like you used to do all the time—

  but, sorry.

  They have soccer practice.

  Grandparents are in town.

  Little sister is sick.

  Or they look at their moms

  and the moms say sorry.

  The moms pat your head.

  Your best friends.

  They used to be your best friends.

  Now they can’t even find time for a movie.

  All summer long Jake has been trading calls

  with friends who are too busy to play.

  Half the summer has already been swallowed up

  like a handful of cherries—

  and Jake is left

  with nothing but the pits.

  3 / The Edeska All-You-Can’t-Eat Buffet

  Mogo-mogo-MAANI-mogo!

  Jake’s grandmother, his halmoni,

  herds Jake toward the fried noodles.

  Jake doesn’t speak Korean,

  but he understands this,

  because Halmoni says it ten times a day:

  Mogo-mogo-MAANI-mogo!

  Eat-eat-eat! LOTS!

  Halmoni weighs only 103 pounds,

  but she eats triple

  what Jake and his mother combined

  can just barely force themselves to swallow.

  They make too much money off you,

  Halmoni tells her daughter.

  Jake’s mother frowns at Halmoni.

  The frown bounces from Halmoni to Jake.

  Ouch!

  Jake’s stomach hurts.

  And his chest.

  And his back.

  His eyebrows, even.

  Jake is beginning to sweat and shake.

  Halmoni goes back

  to fill her plate an eighth time,

  this time

  with her favorite spicy tuna sushi.

  Soup heads straight to the dessert line.

  He fills his ninth plate

  with apple sponge cake,

  chocolate chunk cheesecake,

  a blueberry crepe,

  and three slices of watermelon.

  Halmoni and Soup

  waddle back to the table.

  This is not an eating contest.

  Better not get sick, Soup!

  But just as Jake says it,

  he feels an urge to regurgitate

  his tiny plate of fried noodles.

  Jake pushes Soup out of their booth

  and bolts for the bathroom.

  He is almost at the bathroom door—

  almost.

  Jake’s mother pushes him

  into the ladies’ room

  to finish the lava flow.

  She rushes outside

  to wipe up the mess.

  Jake comes out of the toilet stall

  with his pukey shirt.

  Two girls point, holding their noses.

  Jake walks out the bathroom door

  and his mother pushes him in again,

  lifting his shirt carefully up

  over the back of his head.

  She rinses it and wrings it out,

  but the shirt is still smelly.

  And soaking wet.

  Here, wear this, Jake’s mother says,

  pulling her pink overshirt off

  and adjusting her flowery tank top.

  Pink? Flower buttons?

  Jake pushes the shirt away

  and starts walking out the door

  when his mother pinches his ear,

  yanking him back.

  She shoves his arms into the pink shirt

  and Jake walks out—

  just as Haylee Hirata walks in.

  Perfect Haylee Hirata,

  the girl Jake had a crush on

  in kindergarten,

  and first grade,

  not second grade

  (when her front teeth were missing) but

  third grade

  and fourth grade, too. Haylee Hirata,

  the love he left behind last year

  when he moved to Santa Brunella—

  the love he would have left behind,

  if he had ever gotten up the nerve

  to do more than hit her in dodgeball.

  Jake?

  Haylee?

  Jake, isn’t this the girls’ bathroom?

  Back at the table,

  Jake’s jacket pocket rings.

  Soup answers Jake’s cell phone.

  Minn? Minn!

  Soup stands on his seat and yells,

  Jake, it’s Minn!

  Then Soup shouts into the phone,

  loudly enough for the whole restaurant to hear,

  Minn, Jake can’t talk right now

  because he puked

  and he just came out of the girls’ bathroom

  with Mommy’s pink shirt on—

  and he’s busy talking to his girlfriend Haylee—

  Girlfriend? Minn asks. Girlfriend?

  Who?

  Haylee Hirata. She’s so pretty, Minn!

  Prettier than your friend Sabina.

  And short like Jake.

  Perfect to be his girlfriend! Soup giggles.

  Except, wait!

  Minn, isn’t Jake’s girlfriend

  YOU?

  4 / Boyfriend and Girlfriend

  MINN: Hello? (Are you OK?)

  JAKE: I’m miserable. Miserable!

  (Can you imagine, puking all over the place?)

  MINN: Puked all over the place, huh?

  (You were in the girls’ bathroom?)

  JAKE: Five steps from the bathroom door.

  MINN: In front of … your girlfriend?

  (Is she really your girlfriend?)

  JAKE: (Just a girl from my old school.)

  Haylee.

  MINN: Yup. (Your mom’s shirt?)

  JAKE: (Can you believe my mom?)

  She put the stupid pink shirt on me,

  she buttoned the buttons (daisy buttons!),

  she wiped my chin like a baby. PINK!

  (I can’t even stand to think about it now.)

  MINN: Call me later, then.

  I need to tell you about my news—

  (Will you be home tomorrow?)

  JAKE: Call me tomorrow.

  I’ll be home. Same as every day.

  MINN: We need to talk!

  (I have news for you!)

  JAKE: OK, I’ll call you

  later. Soon. I promise!

  When you talk with a good friend,

  half the conversation is in parentheses.

  You know what your friend is thinking.

  When you talk with a stranger,

  it’s like homework.

  Complete sentences.

&nb
sp; Questions to get answers.

  With a true best friend,

  the questions are understood,

  the answers are automatic,

  and knowing you’ve ruined your friend’s day

  with your bad news

  somehow makes it easier to bear.

  Jake has indeed ruined Minn’s day.

  She had wanted to tell him

  that her parents surprised her this morning

  by giving her an early birthday present:

  a trip to Los Angeles.

  Minn’s mother needs to work in Los Angeles

  and her father found cheap plane tickets

  so they could join her.

  They’ll be there tomorrow night!

  Minn wanted so badly to tell,

  but Jake didn’t seem to want to hear.

  Anyway, you cannot tell someone this kind of news

  when they are still in shock

  over puking

  and being forced to wear a pink shirt.

  And Minn has seen that pink shirt

  on Jake’s mom.

  It has perky daisy buttons,

  and dainty white lace around the collar.

  Poor dainty Jake.

  ∼

  Haylee Hirata:

  Why did Jake never talk about her before?

  Small, just like him. Pretty.

  Undoubtedly dainty.

  Minn wonders,

  Is she the kind that wears fingernail polish

  and glitter lip gloss, like Sabina?

  Minn wonders if Jake likes Sabina.

  How else would Soup know who Sabina was?

  How would Soup know that Sabina was pretty,

  if Jake hadn’t said anything?

  Jake and Sabina did spend a lot of time

  alone

  talking with each other,

  after Jake became a hero

  on Valentine’s Day,

  calling 9-1-1

  to fish Minn out of the Gulch.

  Sabina even hugged him!

  And she had no excuse for hugging him.

  Minn should’ve been the only one

  doing the hugging,

  since she was the one Jake rescued.

  Minn replays the scene in her mind,

  like a video:

  The Hug. The HUG. Sabina’s H-U-G.

  And Jake almost kind-of hugged back!

  Minn looks at her fingernails.

  Her short, chipped fingernails,

  caked with dirt.

  She looks at her lips in the mirror.

  Her dry, plain lips.

  Jake hasn’t answered any of her letters.

  Is it because of her dry, plain lips?

  Would Jake like her better

  if she wore fingernail polish

  and lip gloss?

  And if he liked her better that way,

  would she still like him?

  ∼

  Minn runs outside

  and jumps up into a tree,

  using her leather belt