The Thing About Luck: Chapters 1–3

I got malaria, one of fifteen hundred cases in the United States that year.

Furthermore, random bad smells emanated from we knew not where.

Even our cousins looked the other way when they saw him at our annual Christmas party. They didn’t even seem to be snubbing my brother; they just didn’t see him.

Airport malaria is when a rogue mosquito from, say, Africa has been inadvertently carried into the United States on a jet.

The chances that I would get malaria from going to the airport in Kansas were remote, but I’d grown so scared of mosquitoes that sometimes I didn’t even like stepping outside.

Then in the fifties the experts thought malaria here was eradicated.

I didn’t quite understand what “paying the mortgage” meant, but apparently, it was a constant struggle.

Another phrase that came up a lot was “paying down the principal,” as in, “If we could just pay down the principal, I’d feel like we were getting somewhere.”

As soon as my grandparents got home from dropping off my parents, changes were implemented.

My mother had told Jaz, “Don’t worry. You’ll make a friend when you least expect it.” My grandparents were more proactive.

“We having meeting-party,” she announced regally. “We invite boys we will consider for friendship with Jaz.”

My grandfather nodded sagely.

“Agenda,” he said. “List for boys we invite, agenda for party.”

He clutched at his heart. “You kids go to kill me.” Apparently, about once every couple of weeks, he thought we were going to kill him.

Jiichan was now standing and staggering away from us with his hands on his heart.

My brother had approximately one thousand dollars’ worth of LEGOs. Seriously. I counted once. LEGOs were one of our biggest expenses and the only thing we splurged on.

“That brilliant!” I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic as he peered over my shoulder from his death throes.

Jaz stared at him doubtfully for a moment, but then his face turned from doubtful to ecstatic. I could almost hear him thinking, Wow, the whole school might come to my meeting-party!

He was a good artist in kind of a weird way. Like, he never drew pictures of anything recognizable, but if you needed a totally psychedelic design, he was your man.

But we could pray all we wanted, in front of several sprigs of silk cherry blossoms on the coffee table.

Cherry blossoms, as the harbingers of spring, were important to Japanese farmers.

One time I thought I had a perfect drawing, so I sent it to a mosquito expert, and this is what he said: “Looks like an Anopheles, but the proboscis is ‘hairy’ and the palps look like a thin line, so this is not a good representation, but could easily
 be changed (make palps more than a line and get rid of bristle on mouthparts and you have an Anopheles female). The problem is that most (but not all) Anopheles in the U.S. tend to have spots on their wings, which these drawings lack.”

One time I thought I had a perfect drawing, so I sent it to a mosquito expert, and this is what he said: “Looks like an Anopheles, but the proboscis is ‘hairy’ and the palps look like a thin line, so this is not a good representation, but could easily
 be changed (make palps more than a line and get rid of bristle on mouthparts and you have an Anopheles female). The problem is that most (but not all) Anopheles in the U.S. tend to have spots on their wings, which these drawings lack.”

But the more I looked at mosquitoes, even the same type that had infected me, the more delicate they seemed. Fragile, even. And yet one had almost taken my life.

They also hire drivers of big rigs to haul the wheat to grain elevators.

Grain elevators are usually tall reinforced-concrete buildings that you may have seen but never really thought about. The elevators are where the grain is stored.

I looked down at the flecks of silver in the kitchen table. Jaz had once counted every fleck on the table; there were 3,412.

It was disconcerting to talk to Jaz because his eyes had a strange, unwavering quality. He was a very serious kiddo, but I had seen him smile.

It was disconcerting to talk to Jaz because his eyes had a strange, unwavering quality. He was a very serious kiddo, but I had seen him smile.

Finally, at 12:45, my grandmother’s back slumped with defeat.

I walked reluctantly into the living room, where Jaz sat stoically.

In my class the boys were nicer. They did not shun anyone.

He was long and lanky, and he always held his chin slightly up, so you could see in his nostrils.

He stared down his food as if eating were a fight to the finish, and he chewed so vigorously that my parents worried he might crack his teeth.

I had to solve an equation with two unknowns on the board, read a page out loud, explain what an element was, and define “ethical” versus “moral.”