Counting by 7s(15)

But the problem was solved when Quang-ha drew a perfect pencil sketch of Cheddar, which then served as the centerpiece of the LOST CAT—PLEASE HELP—REWARD OFFERED flyer.

Dell wouldn’t list an exact reward amount.

I believe that economic incentive is crucial as a motivator, especially in a consumer-driven society.

But I didn’t argue the point.

We gathered around the copying machine in the main office and watched together as the image was reproduced.

It was here that I was able to identify a new sensation.

I have never been part of a true group effort with older kids.

And while we hadn’t been successful in finding Dell Duke’s lost cat named Cheddar, I couldn’t help but experience a kind of accomplishment as I stood next to fourteen-year-old Mai and her surly big brother.

I was not pretending to be anyone but myself, and they still accepted me into their troop.

I felt human.

That was the only way I could describe it.



Mr. Dell Duke drove us home.

He said that he had to take me first and I assumed that this was because it would be inappropriate for him to be alone with a kid in his vehicle.

Parents had to give permission for students to be off school grounds with anyone who works for the district.

But I didn’t want to raise any red flags, even though that was my signature color.

For a moment, I drifted off into my head, but not with thoughts about something like cellular structure.

I found myself imagining the place where Mai and Quang-ha lived.

Maybe it was a home with a chronically ill relative who was interested in regular examination by a young person who would listen endlessly to ailments and take precise notes.

Or perhaps Mai’s family had an apartment with a roof-deck that housed an amateur self-constructed observatory with a shockingly powerful reflecting telescope.

Sitting in the backseat, I wanted to exchange vital contact information with this older and intriguing girl named Mai.

In a blink of pure fantasy, I suddenly saw myself walking away from Dell Duke’s grimy car with a tiny glass vial of her blood sample for genome sequencing.

Because even though Mai said during the cat search that her mother came from Vietnam, I hadn’t completely given up on the idea that she could have something to do with the Cahuilla tribe.

This was one of my secrets. When I was younger, I imagined that I was an Indian princess.

Looking out the car window to the street that I’d known my whole life, I understood that origins were so important.

Even if you didn’t know your own.



I was energized.

Once I was home, I went into the kitchen and fixed myself a drink of hot water mixed with a tablespoon of honey (from my backyard beehive) and a tablespoon of my own homemade vinegar (made from tart apples, brown sugar, and distilled water).

As I sipped the tangy beverage, I was certain that the day, despite the loss of the counselor’s cat, had been a triumph.

Having a friend—even one who was older and went to high school—would open a door for me into another world.

That afternoon I made a decision.

I would learn everything possible about lost cats and Vietnam.

It felt as if I were going up and over some kind of barrier after spending too long hitting the thing straight on.





Chapter 11





Mai watched as Willow got out of the backseat and headed up the driveway, pulling her wheeled luggage behind her.

Quang-ha mumbled:

“Someone should tell her to get a backpack.”

Mai shot him a hard look, which she knew would keep her brother quiet.

She could see that the strange girl’s house had been painted the color of the shrimp curry that her mother made. It was a bold yellow that stuck out in the drab neighborhood.

But what really interested Mai was behind the house.

Because it was very green back there.

On one side, a stand of timber bamboo jutted up three stories high. On the other edge of the property, a tall palm tree and several smaller, bluish silver eucalyptus trees trembled together in the late-afternoon wind.

Staring at the house and the properties next door, it looked to Mai like there was a jungle behind where Willow lived.

No one else had that. Not in a neighborhood that spent two hundred days a year without rain.

Maybe, she theorized, the girl’s parents owned a plant nursery.

Her brother didn’t seem at all interested in Willow, or her house, but Dell stared intently with his nose almost touching the glass as Willow removed a key from a zipped pocket in her carry-on luggage.

Any regular little kid would have then turned and waved back, or done something to acknowledge the people in the waiting car.

But Willow simply unlocked the door and slid inside, disappearing into the shadows of the curry-colored house as if she were suddenly invisible.

It was intriguing.

Once Willow was gone, Mai watched as Dell Duke jerked his car out of park, hitting the gas pedal so quickly that the Ford lurched forward like a broken carnival ride.

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

So he was that eager to get rid of them?

Interesting.

She hadn’t had a very good opinion of the counselor, but in the last hour she had been feeling bad about his lost cat.

Now she was quickly returning to her original position: