“A Big, Grand House”

I’ve lived in the same house for as long as I can remember. My mother tells me of the apartment where we all lived, crammed into one bedroom. But I was too young to remember. I only know the house I live in now. A big, grand house. One with a chandelier—and a foyer. 

But obviously, my family didn’t start out privileged or well off. My mother said back in Vietnam she didn’t have anything to eat. She had a cow that didn’t produce milk. She had to scoop the cow dung with her hands. I can’t imagine doing that. My father tells me stories of how he escaped Vietnam. He was out at sea without any food or water. He encountered a typhoon which threw someone overboard. He was rescued by a big French ship. 

They went through so much so that I didn’t need to face the same hardships. I’m grateful I live in a big, grand house, but I’m most grateful for the sacrifices my parents made. 

“Orange”

I wanted to sink into the chair as my teacher ridiculed me, as the whole class turned around to face me. I felt helpless. Stupid. 

I dreaded coming to Vietnamese school. I wasn’t good at it. I didn’t try for it because there wasn’t anything likable about it. Despite that, I was forced to join a spelling bee. A group of students to represent the class. In front of the whole school, I was put on the spot. Been having the day told the day of that I was participating, I stood nervously.

Your word is trái cam, the lady said picking the word from a bowl. A word which means “orange” in Vietnamese.

It was easy. I could see my teacher let out a sigh of relief.

Trái cam. C-A-M. Cam. Before I could stop myself, I blurted out an extra accent.

I ran back to my table. Full of my teammates. One girl assured me I would be fine, but I just sat in silence picking at the plastic tablecloth.

The following week, I walked into class late. The seats were rearranged which was odd, as we typically didn’t have seating arrangements. People usually stuck to their same seats, next to their friends, whereas I didn’t have friends, so I chose a seat in the back. She walked up to me. My teacher suggested I sit in my original seat. Odd.

I’m ok, I responded as politely as possible. 

Nonetheless, she began her lecture. I wasn’t paying attention. I was looking at the group of girls in front of me. The same girls who represented the class in the Spelling Bee. Was I being paranoid? My teacher is an adult. I was a kid. There was no way she’d go out of her way to humiliate me. 

Right?

“The Bing-Bongs”

I have nieces and nephews who call me “Cô” which is a Vietnamese term for “Miss.” That makes me feel very old. And I’m not mature enough to be addressed by that title. The first time I ever met them was in the summer of 2019 when I was only 11 years old. It felt very odd that they addressed me respectfully since most of them were older than me. But recently they moved to America from Vietnam. They don’t feel the need for honorifics anymore, so they tease me all the time. In Vietnam, we used to spend every day together when I came over during the summer. We loved going to night markets to get food and play soccer. In the city, there are people who rent out toy cars, motorcycles, and hoverboards. I remember one night, we all rented out these electric motorcycles. Everyone was chasing me as I was speeding down the street. It felt like a high-speed chase, as I leaned my body to turn the sharp corner. They were catching up to me and slowly cornering me. Then, there was a loud crash, and I fell off my bike. That was one of my most memorable moments in Vietnam. We still hang out all the time now that they live in America. And we’re still as chaotic as ever.

“The Best First Concert Ever”

Right after the school bell rang, I rushed to the school parking where I met my brother. 

Are you ready to go, he asked.

YES, I exclaimed excitedly. A week prior, my brother asked me if I wanted to go to a Grentperez concert. Without hesitation, I told him I’d go. If you don’t know who Grentperez is, he’s a Filipino singer who writes mainly indie and jazz-type music. He’s one of my favorite music artists, so you can imagine how excited I was. We played a bunch of his songs on the car ride there. I don’t remember much on the way up to LA. I think I fell asleep on the car ride since I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. When we get there there’s a line that wraps around one side of the building. An hour later, the doors open and we scramble in. It was a floor concert, and we manage to get somewhere near the stage. I’m waiting eagerly when the lights turn off and the curtains open. There’s a small music artist on stage to open up the show—like a warm-up. She introduces herself as FIG and sings a series of her own songs. I’m absolutely mesmerized as she performs and hypes up the crowd. 

Ok, so we’re going to have some trivia, to gauge how smart this audience is. Her first trivia question was fairly easy and so she awards the audience…a pack of trail mix. Then, she asks a question about Phineas and Ferb—which is an iconic show that I am obsessed with. I jump up and down eagerly waving my hand. She notices me and points me out. 

A MONKEY, I shout. 

EEHHHRR, a buzzer rings. I’m just playing she says. You got it right, and your prize is free merch. She launches the t-shirt into the crowd, as I put my arms up. I grab the shirt and clutch is close to me. 

I DID IT, I exclaimed. I’m just relieved I didn’t drop it. 

“A Bottle of Sprite”

I walked into the convenience store, covered in blood. I put a bottle of Sprite on the counter.

That’ll be $1.99 the cashier said, seemingly unphased but slightly confused.

Do you accept Apple Pay? I asked.

Yes, and I scanned my phone. It had been a long night. My throat was sore and I was also completely soaked, the blood staining my Nike shoes. It had been the longest day. I had been at school for nearly 15 hours that day. Screaming, I just wanted it to stop, for the day to end. Countless people had passed by me, gawking and laughing, and some scared. I would sit in the damp grass that had been just watered by the sprinklers. That made it worse. The wet sloshing of the ground as I ran across the grass to greet the new people approaching.

Turn around, I pleaded

Get out before it’s too late. I don’t want to be here anymore. It’s too late for me, I warned. 

But they never listened. They always ignored me. Except one little girl who ran in the opposite direction clinging on to her dad. That made me laugh. I laughed maniacally, the night taking over me. Every time someone flinched at my presence, it made me happy. I anticipated another group coming over. However, they assured me. 

You’re done now. We can leave. 

I excitedly walked through the school. It was a successful Halloween night.