The Year of the Rat

“Are you sure you don't want to be a third

partner?” Becky asked out on the playground at

recess. We were watching the boys play football in

the snow. The boys liked to play football in the snow

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because then they could dive on the ground without

getting hurt. We liked to watch because it was funny

to see them covered in snow'especially Sam

Mercer, who rolled around so much that he looked

like a gingerbread cookie with white icing. “You'll

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have to do all that work on panda bears by yourself,”

Becky added.

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“That's okay,” I said. “If I want to be an author

and illustrator, I better practice as much as I can.”

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“What if you don't become an author and

illustrator?” Charlotte asked. “Then you would have

done all that practicing for nothing.”

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“It won't be for nothing,” I said, trying to feel as

brave as a tiger. “I know I'm going to be one, no

matter what.”

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And after I said that, I did feel like a brave tiger.

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What did I care about cold doors when I had fur that

was thick and warm? Just like the tiger that jumped

into the wild water because he wanted to win the

race, I was going to jump through the door and

become an author and illustrator. I wouldn't be

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afraid anymore.

“So, when is Melody coming back?” Charlotte

asked. I had told them all about her phone call

that morning.

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“In a couple of months,” I said, smiling. “Just in

time for Chinese New Year.”

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“Well, maybe it's good you're doing the project

by yourself, then,” Becky said in a funny voice. “We

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won't see you at all once Melody arrives.”

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I stopped smiling. Suddenly I understood why

everything felt clumsy and awkward when I was with

Charlotte and Becky. When Melody had moved here

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two years ago, we had become best friends, and I

had stopped being such good friends with Becky and

Charlotte. Not only had I ignored them and probably

hurt their feelings, all the things that I had been interested in and cared about were different now.

They hadn't changed. I had changed.

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“Wow, look at that throw!” Charlotte said as a

ball whizzed through the air. “Who threw that?”

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“It was Dumb-Way!” Becky said. “Can you

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believe it? I guess Dumb-Way is a pretty good

football player.”

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I took a deep breath and gathered my tiger

strength. If I was ever going to make things better

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with Becky and Charlotte, I'd have let them know

how I had changed. I had to let them know that the

things that wouldn't have bothered me before,

bothered me now.

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“I don't think it's nice to call him Dumb-Way,”

I said. “His name is Dun-Wei.”