Counting by 7s(67)

Mrs. Bode-Ernst smiles and I understand that she’s thinking this is good news.

Or maybe she is just smiling to be encouraging.

I don’t share her optimism.

The grief counselor says:

“The beginning of anything is hard. I know you’ve been through a lot. We’re going to get you in school. And you’ll make all kinds of new friends. Before you know it, you are going to be right back in the swing of things.”

I think about telling her that my school experience was never that great, and besides Margaret Z. Buckle, I didn’t have close friends until I met Mai and Quang-ha and lived at the Gardens of Glenwood.

But I don’t want to upset her.

How could she know that I never had that kind of swing?



Lenore and I return to her car.

She explains that the judge will take legal responsibility for me.

I’m hoping that it will be a woman and a person of color who sees me and understands that I’m different, even Strange (as Dell Duke figured out), but that I still have value.

The court will now call the shots.

I can tell that Lenore feels bad right now.

But none of this is her fault.

I want her to understand.

I want to tell her that I’m sorry. Instead, I reach over and touch her arm.

Just my fingertips.

After that, I don’t have to say anything. I can tell she understands.



I go into the girls’ bathroom in the courthouse.

I need a few minutes by myself.

The mirror in here is not made of glass.

It’s a polyester film coating made with aluminum stretched perfectly flat against a rectangular board.

So you can’t break this mirror.

I’m guessing they think that people who end up here don’t need any more bad luck.

I open my mouth and stare.

Because my skin is dark, my teeth look very white. They are straight and I think a good size.

But they are permanent teeth.

There’s no hiding it.

I shut my eyes.

I can see my always-smiling mother and my strong father.

I hear their words voiced in so many ways, since as early as I can remember, trying to protect me.

Were they too worried about me to look out for themselves?

Or is life so filled with random action that the very notion of caution is futile?

If the last few months have proven anything, it’s that I don’t need more theory, but rather more experience with reality.

Even though the dose I’ve received is enough to last a lifetime.

When I see the judge I will try to convey a positive attitude, while at the same time monitoring my blood pressure and other vital signs.

There have been cases of stress-induced cardiomyopathy, which also is known as broken heart syndrome.





Chapter 59





Dell was getting ready.

He picked out a red tie. And put on his suit. It had been the first time he’d told his boss a version of the truth about why he wouldn’t be at work.

He was going to juvenile court to be there for one of the kids that he counseled.

Instead of feeling like a lazy slacker, he had thought he could hear admiration in the voice of his supervisor.

Or maybe the guy was just yawning.

Now, as he pulled up the pants on his suit, he was surprised that he was able to button the waistband.

The last time he found himself in this situation he’d used a safety pin to keep the pants closed.

This was solid evidence that he’d been losing weight. Not enough that he could get out of his car when it was pinned up against a van, but still, it felt good to see his stomach receding.



Down the hall in #28, Pattie debated what to wear and settled on a white silk shirt with two embroidered doves. It came from Vietnam.

She already had on a black skirt from a discount store.

And red slippers.

The doves were a symbol of love.

The black skirt was a show of respect.

And the red slippers were of course lucky.

Probably no one in authority would pick up on the symbolism, but if they did, Pattie wanted to give the right impression of her intent.



Across town, Mai sat in her high school history class and stared out the window.

It wasn’t fair.

She of all people should be there.

She’d started this.

The clock on the far wall behind the teacher’s head hadn’t moved in what seemed like forever.

The woman was going on and on about ancient Rome when it became clear to Mai that the only thing that mattered was in a courthouse in downtown Bakersfield.

By the time the bell rang, she knew one thing with absolute certainty.



Mai explained to the woman in the office that there was a family emergency.

And then she used a trick. She started speaking in Vietnamese. Rapid fire.

That unnerved people.

The next thing she knew, she had a permission slip to get Quang-ha out of biology (where he was actually paying attention to a short film on mitosis).

And only minutes later the two Nguyens were walking out the front doors on their way downtown.

Mai looked back at the school and saw a decal in a classroom window.

It was of a sunflower. Bathed in the hard light, it glowed as if it were made of gold.