“How you spell?” Grandpa dropped his weeds and pulled out his notebook and pen.
“Um, G-O-R—” I hesitated. How did you spell “gorgeous,” anyway? “J-O-U-S.”
Grandpa wrote it down and said, “You shore?”
“Uh-huh, definitely,” I said.
Grandpa said, “Clara-yah, you are gor-jous.”
I laughed. I felt really gor-jous too, with my candy necklace and everything. Maybe even gor-jous enough for Little Miss Apple Pie. “So guess what?”
“What?”
“I might try out for Little Miss Apple Pie this year.” I watched closely for his reaction.
Grandpa’s forehead wrinkled. “Little Miss Apple Pie?”
“Remember, at Apple Blossom Festival last year? She wears a red sash and she stands on the float and waves to everybody.” I plopped down on the ground and waved up at him, princess-style. “I want to be her.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Grandpa. “You’d be real cute on that float. A natural.”
I looked up at him. “You’re just saying that ’cause you’re my grandpa, Grandpa.”
He shook his head. “No way. Grandpa never lies.”
I guessed that was true. I’d never known Grandpa to lie. Maybe I would be a natural. Me in my red dress with my new candy necklace.
Emmeline didn’t mention the necklace again for the rest of the day.
I thought she’d forgotten all about it, and I relaxed. Until dinner. Emmeline is good at the sneak attack. She is proof that you should never, ever underestimate your enemy.
“Mommy, Clara Lee won’t share her necklace with me,” she announced.
Mom looked up from her bowl of ramen. Ramen is what Daddy cooks when Mom’s home late from her office. “That’s a cute necklace, Clara,” she said. “Where’d you get it?”
“Don’t you love it? It was a gift,” I said, twirling some ramen on my fork. I wished I could eat ramen with chopsticks the way Mom and Daddy and Grandpa did.
“Looks good on you,” Grandpa said. Daddy said so too.
“Well, she won’t share it,” Emmeline whined. “I want to wear it tomorrow.”
I waited for Mom to say, Now Clara, you should share. Mom is big on sharing. She’s always saying how big sisters should share with little sisters, how sharing is caring.
But she didn’t say that. She said, “Now Emmeline, Clara just got that necklace as a gift. I think you should let her have it to herself for a little while. Maybe next week Clara will let you borrow it.”
Emmeline looked like she was gonna go into shock. The look on her face said, Huh? Mine did too.
“But… sharing is caring, Mommy. Remember?” She looked around the table for backup. Grandpa shrugged sympathetically.
Daddy said, “Sharing is definitely caring, Em. Now how about you share some of that kimchi with me?”
And that was the end of that. I had my candy necklace all to myself, and for once in my life, I didn’t have to share with Emmeline. Anytime soon, anyway. My luck was in full effect.
That night, I almost didn’t want to go to bed. What if I had a Bad Luck dream that scared Good Luck away? What if Bad Luck came to hang out with me instead? I could forget all about Little Miss Apple Pie, that was for sure.
I didn’t dream about anything that night, at least not that I remembered. And a dream just doesn’t count unless you remember it.
I woke up extra early the next morning, and the first thing I thought was, Is Good Luck still here? I said it out loud too, just to make it feel more real. “Good Luck, are you still here?”
Emmeline swung her head down from her top bunk and said, “Huh?”
“Never you mind,” I told her.
She shrugged and swung her head back up top. “Gonna sleep for five more minutes so you better keep quiet, Clara Lee,” she said.
“Bah humbug,” I said, in a voice that was the opposite of quiet.
Then I said, “I think I smell pancakes.”
Emmeline said, “Pancakes?” Now she was as wide awake as I was. She was right behind me when I went downstairs to investigate. I couldn’t wait one more minute to find out all the great things that were gonna happen.
Mom had made banana pancakes for breakfast. “Get it while it’s hot, girls,” she said, pouring syrup on our pancakes.
Emmeline and I ran to our seats. Usually we have cereal. We only ever eat pancakes on Saturdays and snow days.
“Mom, can I have extra?” I asked, taking my first bite.
Mom nodded and poured a little more.
“Me too,” said Emmeline, the little copycat.
After I ate, Grandpa braided my hair in two perfect braids, and he didn’t even have to do a do-over. Daddy let me watch five extra minutes of cartoons before he dropped us off at the bus stop on his way to work. Usually, we walk to the bus stop, but like I said, it was a special day already. There was nothing usual about it.
Even Emmeline was on her best behavior. She let me have the last banana pancake, and she didn’t complain when I drank all the orange juice. She even let me sit up front with Daddy instead of complaining like she always does.
It was official. Luck was still here. My mind was made up. I was trying out for Little Miss Apple Pie.
When I got to Ms. Morgan’s classroom, Shayna was already sitting in her seat. She was wearing a yellow sweater and a yellow headband. Shayna loves matching. “Shayna, I have to tell you something,” I said, sliding into my seat.
Dionne Gregory was in her seat two desks away, and she looked over at us. She is always in everybody’s business.
I lowered my voice. “I’m gonna try out for Little Miss Apple Pie.”
Shayna’s brown eyes turned big. “For real? I thought you were too scared to make a speech in front of everybody.”
“I never said I was scared. I just said I didn’t want to do it. But now I do. Now that I’ve got Good Luck, I might really have a chance. What do you think?”
“I think you have to go for it.” Shayna held up her hand and we high-fived.
Then I reached inside for my favorite pencil, and instead I found a gingersnap. The very same kind of gingersnap that Max always brought for lunch. Why would he put a gingersnap in my desk?
I decided to write him a note and find out. I wrote, “Max, did you put this gingersnap in my desk?” Then I drew three little boxes for yes, no, and maybe. I passed it to Shayna and whispered, “Pass it on to Max.”
I could tell Shayna didn’t want to because Shayna doesn’t like passing notes, but she did it anyway. She passed it to Natalie, who passed it to Vince, who pretended like he was gonna open it, but then he passed it to Max. Max opened it up and read it. Then he checked one of the boxes and passed it to Simon, who passed it to Evie, who passed it to Shayna, who passed it to me.
He checked no. Huh? If Max didn’t put the gingersnap in my desk, who did? Good Luck?
“Was it you, Good Luck?” I whispered.
Shayna poked me on the arm and said, “Are you talking to yourself, Clara Lee?”
“No,” I said quickly.
“It sounded like you were.”
“I wasn’t, I wasn’t. Hey, I think Ms. Morgan’s coming back,” I said, pointing at the door.
That hushed Shayna up right away. Shayna is always worried about getting into trouble.
I took a bite of my cookie and leaned back in my seat. “Thanks for the cookie, Good Luck,” I whispered with a mouthful of gingersnap.
Shayna turned to me and said, “Huh?” but I pointed at Ms. Morgan and she turned back around, so quick one of her braids whipped me!
“Ow,” I whispered in a loud voice—even though, truth be told, it didn’t really hurt.
When it was time for music, I didn’t go inside the music room right away. I went straight over to the sign-up sheet hanging outside Mr. Charlevoix’s door. The only name on it so far was Dionne’s, in oh-so-perfect cursive. I made a face at it. Then I signed my name right below, only my cursive didn’t lo
ok as good as hers, not nearly. I messed up my capital L. I thought about scratching it out and trying again, but decided that would look even worse, so I left it the way it was.
Dionne came up to me during recess. Shayna, Georgina, and I were jumping rope.
“I saw your name on the sign-up sheet, Clara Lee,” she said.
I kept jumping. “Yup.”
“I think it’s great you’re trying out.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“I’m trying out too. Did you know that my great-great-great-uncle was one of Bramley’s founding fathers?”
“No,” I said. I stopped jumping.
“My mom thinks I should automatically be Little Miss Apple Pie just for that.” Dionne rolled her eyes, like, Isn’t my mom so crazy? “Since my family partly founded this town and all.”
“Neat,” I said sourly. “Maybe you’ll get it, then.”
“I hope so. I mean, I hope you get it too.” She paused. “Did I tell you my mom was Little Miss Apple Pie when she was in elementary school? My grandma too. It sort of runs in our family. You know, ’cause we’re as American as apple pie. We’re probably the oldest family in Bramley. When did your family come to Bramley, Clara Lee?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. I could feel a little lump rising in my throat.
Then Shayna came up next to us and put her arm around me. “Dionne, we’re going to jump rope now.”
“Sure,” Dionne said. “Good luck, Clara Lee.”
When she was gone, Shayna said, “Don’t you listen to her, Clara Lee.”
Georgina said, “Dionne Gregory thinks she knows it all but she doesn’t know anything about anything.”
Shayna and Georgina started swinging the jump rope, and I jumped in. But my heart wasn’t in it. Wasn’t my family as American as apple pie too? Grandpa came from Korea, but both my mom and dad were born in America, just like me. I deserved to have a shot at Little Miss Apple Pie as much as Dionne did. Didn’t I?
When I got on the bus that afternoon, I sat on the window side, even though I like the aisle better because I can talk to more people that way. I was too depressed to talk to people. I felt about as low as a flea on a dead dog. How could I compete with the founder of this town’s great-great-great-niece?
Shayna patted my shoulder and tried to cheer me up, but I just wasn’t feeling it. All I wanted to do was stare out the window.
Then Max said, “Hey, Shayna, will you switch seats with me?”
Shayna looked at me and shrugged. “Sure,” she said.
She got up and Max sat down. He fished around in his backpack and handed me a gingersnap, which of course I snatched right up. I might have been depressed, but I wasn’t too depressed for a gingersnap.
“Thanks,” I said, stuffing it into my mouth. Wait a minute. I thought Max didn’t have any gingersnaps today.…
“You’re welcome,” he said. Then he looked over his shoulder and around the bus before he asked in a quiet voice, “Clara Lee, will you be my valentine?”
My mouth was still full, and I said, “Huh? It’s not even Valentine’s Day.”
“I know that,” he said very seriously. “I want you to be my valentine all the days of the year, not just on Valentine’s Day.”
“Um,” I said. “Did you put that cookie in my desk?”
“Of course. I put that necklace in there too,” he said, pointing at my neck.
I was starting to wish I hadn’t taken his necklace, or his gingersnap. I didn’t want to be anybody’s valentine and I definitely didn’t want to be Max’s. Max was my buddy and that was it. I said, “But… I thought that came from someplace else.”
“Where else would it come from?”
“I thought it came from my Good Luck,” I said.
“Good Luck?” Max repeated. “That doesn’t make any scientific sense, Clara Lee. There’s no such thing as good or bad luck.”
I stared at him. “Yes, there is.”
“Look, do you want to be my valentine or not?”
“No,” I said meanly. “I don’t want to be your valentine at all.”
Max looked mad. He said, “Then give me back my necklace!”
“No! You gave it to me as a gift! You can’t take it back!”
Max reached over and tried to grab it off my neck, and I held on with all my might. “Give it!”
“It’s mine!”
“Give it!”
And that’s when the string holding the necklace together snapped. And the candy pieces fell all over my lap and the seat. My precious necklace. My signature look.
“Now look what you’ve done!” I yelled. I could feel tears prickling the backs of my eyes like needles.
Max looked sorry, but not that sorry. “It was my necklace anyway,” he said, picking up a few pieces and popping one in his mouth.
“Look, Max, when you give something to someone, it’s not yours anymore. Get it?” Then I took my foot and kicked him off the seat, kinda sorta hard. Max landed on the ground with a thud. He had tears in his eyes. Whoops. Maybe I had gone too far.
“I don’t want you to be my valentine anymore, Clara Lee,” Max said, getting up and wiping away tears with the back of his hand. “You’re just a big show-off, and your hair isn’t that pretty anyway. And you know what? I hope you don’t win Little Miss Apple Pie either because you don’t deserve it!”
Then he grabbed his backpack and moved up two seats.
Shayna tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Hey, what’s going on?”
“Why’d you push my brother?” Georgina asked me with accusing eyes.
“None of your business,” I said, turning back around.
“Clara Lee!” Shayna said. But I wouldn’t turn back around. I was afraid I might cry, and there was nothing I hated worse than crying in front of people.
What’s the matter, Clara Lee?” Emmeline asked me on the walk home from the bus stop.
“Nothing,” I told her.
“Uh-huh, there’s something,” she insisted. “I can tell. Sister to sister, what’s wrong?”
I sighed. Pushing a rock along the ground with my toe, I said, “Remember how I had that Good Luck dream?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, I had Good Luck for a while and now it’s gone and all I’ve got left is Bad Luck.” I let out a big gust of air. “Dionne Gregory doesn’t think I’m American as apple pie enough to be Little Miss Apple Pie.”
“Dionne Gregory is a baha bighead.”
“What’s a baha bighead?”
“It’s someone who thinks they know it all,” Emmeline explained. “Kinda like how you’re a baha bighead sometimes.”
I frowned at her.
“But not today,” she added quickly.
“Thanks,” I said. “And that’s not all. Me and Max had a fight and I kicked him out of the seat and now everybody hates me.”
“You shouldn’t have kicked him out of the seat,” Emmeline said with a shrug. “Duh.”
“I know that!”
“Then why’d you do it?”
“I don’t know,” I said miserably. “I guess I was just mad about that stuff with Dionne.”
“He’s probably gonna tell on you when he gets home and you’re gonna get in trouble with Mom and Daddy and Grandpa. I bet his mom is gonna call. You want me to distract them when the phone rings?”
“That’s okay, Max wouldn’t tell,” I said. I mean, I doubted he’d tell. He was no tattletale. It wasn’t his style. But he did look pretty mad sitting there on the ground. Maybe he would tell.
When we got home, I took off my shoes like always and was about to sneak off to my room so I wouldn’t have to tell Grandpa about everything that happened that day. Grandpa was in the TV room watching one of his Korean soap operas, the kind where the women are always crying and the men wear fancy suits.
He had his back to me and I was sneaking past him when he said, “Welcome home! Come give Grandpa a hug.”
I swear, my grandpa has eyes in the back of
his head.
I went over and gave him a hug, but it was a limp green bean kind of hug. My heart wasn’t in it.
“What’s wrong with my Clara?” He patted the cushion next to him.
I plopped down on the couch. I didn’t want to make him feel bad for our family not being American as apple pie enough, but I’d never lied to him before either. Grandpa and I don’t lie to each other.
I let out a big sigh. “Well, remember that Little Miss Apple Pie thing I told you about?”
Grandpa nodded.
“I don’t think I’m gonna try out anymore,” I said. My voice came out sounding so little and shaky, it made me feel even sadder. I could not look at him. If I saw Grandpa looking at me with sorry eyes, I just knew I would cry and maybe never stop.
“Why you not try out?” he wanted to know.
“Because Dionne Gregory was saying how her great-great-great-uncle was one of the founders of this town, and how her family is all-American. American as apple pie.” I sniffled.
“What’s this, American as apple pie?”
“It just means really, really American,” I said.
“So what? So are you, American as apple pie.”
“I don’t think I’m as American as Dionne Gregory,” I said, wiping a tear away.
“Clara-yah, of course you are! You are all-American Korean American!” Grandpa put his arm around me. “You are both. One hundred percent American, one hundred percent Korean. Doesn’t make you less than anybody else. It makes you more.”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“I know. Trust Grandpa. I am telling you the truth. You trust Grandpa?”
I nodded.
“Good. You remember that and be proud, Clara-yah.”
I snuggled in close to Grandpa and said, “So you think I should still try out?”
“Of course I do.” He took his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped my teary face.
“So maybe I will,” I said.
“That’s my Clara!” Grandpa lifted his hand for a high five, which of course, yours truly taught him. We high-fived so hard my hand stung. What did Dionne know about it anyway? Georgina was right. Dionne Gregory didn’t know nothin’ ‘bout nothin’.