The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry(43)

The second story is by Virgina Kim from Blackheart High. “The Journey” is about an adopted child from China. A.J. nods a couple of times. She can tell he likes the story better than “My Grandmother’s Hands.”

Maya is starting to worry that she won’t be picked at all. She is glad she wore jeans. She turns around to look for the quickest way out. Amelia is standing by the door of the auditorium. She gives Maya a thumbs-up sign. “The dress. What happened to the dress?” Amelia mouths.

Maya shrugs, turns back to listen to “The Journey.” Virginia Kim wears a black velvet dress with a white Peter Pan collar. She reads in a very soft voice, barely more than a whisper at times. It’s as if she wants everyone to have to lean in to listen.

Unfortunately, “The Journey” is endless, five times as long as “My Grandmother’s Hands,” and after a while, Maya stops listening. Maya guesses it probably takes less time to fly to China.

If “A Trip to the Beach” isn’t top three, there will be T-shirts and cookies at the reception. But who wants to stay for the reception if you don’t at least place.

If she places, she won’t be mad that she didn’t win.

If John Furness wins, she will try not to hate him.

If Maya wins, maybe she will donate the gift certificate to charity. To, like, underprivileged kids or orphanages.

If she loses, it will be okay. She didn’t write the story to win a prize or even complete an assignment. If she’d wanted to complete the assignment, she could have written about Puddleglum. Creative writing is graded pass/fail.

The third story is announced, and Maya grabs A.J.’s hand.

A Perfect Day for Bananafish

1948 / J. D. Salinger

If something is good and universally acknowledged to be so, this is not reason enough to dislike it. (Side note: It has taken me all afternoon to write this sentence. My brain kept making hash of the phrase “universally acknowledged.”)

“A Trip to the Beach,” your entry for the county short-story contest, reminds me a bit of Salinger’s story. I mention this because I think you should have won first place. The first-place entry, which I believe was titled “My Grandmother’s Hands,” was much simpler both formally, narratively, and certainly emotionally than yours. Take heart, Maya. As a bookseller, I assure you that prizewinning can be somewhat important for sales but rarely matters much in terms of quality.

—A.J.F.

P.S. The thing I find most promising about your short story is that it shows empathy. Why do people do what they do? This is the hallmark of great writing.

P.P.S. If I have a criticism, perhaps it’s that you might have introduced the swimming element earlier.

P.P.P.S. Also, readers will know what an ATM card is.

A Trip to the Beach

By Maya Tamerlane Fikry

Teacher: Edward Balboni, Alicetown High School

Grade 9

Mary is running late. She has a private room, but she shares the bathroom with six other people, and it seems like someone is always using it. When she gets back from the bathroom, the babysitter is sitting on her bed. “Mary, I have been waiting for you for five minutes.”

“I’m sorry,” Mary says. “I wanted to take a shower, but I couldn’t get in.”

“It is already eleven,” the babysitter says. “You’ve only paid me to be here until noon, and I have somewhere I need to be at 12:15 p.m. So you better not be late getting back.”

Mary thanks the babysitter. She kisses the baby on the head. “Be good,” she says.

Mary runs across the campus to the English department. She runs up the stairs. Her teacher is already leaving by the time she gets there. “Mary. I was just about to leave. I didn’t think you were going to show. Please come in.”

Mary goes into the office. The teacher takes out Mary’s homework and sets it on the desk. “Mary,” the teacher says. “You used to get straight A’s, and now you are failing all of your classes.”

“I’m sorry,” Mary says. “I’ll try to do better.”

“Is something happening in your life?” the teacher asks. “You used to be one of our best students.”

“No,” Mary says. She bites her lip.

“You have a scholarship to this college. You are already in trouble because your grades have been bad for a while, and when I tell the college, they will probably end your scholarship or at least make you leave for some time.”

“Please don’t do that!” Mary begs. “I don’t have anywhere I can go. The only money I have is my scholarship money.”

“It is for your own good, Mary. You should go home and sort yourself out. Christmas is in a couple of weeks. Your parents will understand.”

Mary is fifteen minutes late getting back to the dorm. The babysitter is frowning when Mary gets there. “Mary,” the babysitter says. “You are late once again! When you’re late, it makes me late for the things I have to do. I’m sorry. I really like the baby, but I don’t think I can babysit for you anymore.”

Mary takes the baby from the babysitter. “Okay,” she says.

“Also,” the babysitter adds, “you owe me for the last three times I babysat. It’s ten dollars an hour so that’s thirty dollars.”

“Can I pay you next time?” Mary asks. “I meant to go to the automated teller machine (ATM) on my way back, but I didn’t have time.”