Dream, Annie, Dream: Chapters 32–41

All the air left me and I felt myself deflate like a punctured basketball.

Mrs. Olds sat behind her large imposing desk instead of pulling up a student seat next to us.

Mrs. Olds regarded me with a glimmer of a smile behind her thin, wrinkled lips. Since she was usually not a smiley sort of lady, her expression made me especially nervous.

“It’s no secret that Asians tend to be especially adept at math and science. Did you happen to read that recent TIME magazine article?”

“I know I’m not going to play basketball for a living!” I shouted. I wanted to show my mom I was practical.

She crossed her arms as she contemplated her answer.

I contemplated just kicking her out, but then I knew she’d just mewl and scratch at the door until I let her back in.

As a family, we all watched Shogun, an American TV miniseries about Japan in the 1600s, but the Japanese actors in that were actually Japanese.

We saw the first one on video a while ago. Tak was only two, but he drop-kicked his stuffed animals and then threw them around the house after watching it, so I actually think he got the gist of it.

Back at home, we sat mesmerized as Daniel LaRusso traveled to Okinawa with his teacher, Mr. Miyagi.

There were intimate scenes in which Mr. Miyagi reconnected with his long-lost love. But they spoke in English to each other...wouldn’t they speak in Japanese?

Usually in this type of situation he would wink, or flash me a conspiratorial smile.

But Ben’s silence was making me increasingly uncomfortable and I didn’t know what else to do other than keep on blathering.

Cymbals crashed and trumpets blared inside my brain.

She only patted my back and handed me the coarse brown cafeteria napkins.

Finally, Natalie also told me that Jessica’s mom was on the Regional Arts Council and her parents were “patrons of the theater.” I didn’t know exactly what that meant, but Natalie explained that since they donated lots of money, Jessica would always have a leg up in auditions.

“Sorry, Jessica,” I said sweetly as I glowered, my eyes showing I was anything but.

After what had passed between us, I wanted nothing more than to see red-and-blue KU mop the floor with a bunch of dejected purple-and-white Wildcats.

But for those of us who knew we would never have a chance to play like that ourselves, for those of us like my dad, who was bogged down every week with a mountain of administrative work because of a so-called “promotion” to department chair, for those of us like my mom, who might not speak English perfectly, for those of us who didn’t have vocal coaches...that win gave us a little taste of what having a dream come true felt like.

She had a new puppy, hated slugs with a passion, but loved math even more than she disliked Mrs. Olds.

Were there any flamingos out there that weren’t as lucky in the brine shrimp department? And did they never turn pink as a result?

It was hard for me to believe that hanging out in this sterile office and seeing sick people all day was anyone's dream.

Dr. Wang didn’t look at either of us as she tapped my knees to check my reflexes.

“I tell people only to go into it if they truly want to be a doctor. I mean, no one wants a surgeon who doesn’t want to be there, right? Could you imagine? Daydreaming about being a rock star and oops! There goes an artery!”

“That’s a great idea!” Patty swabbed my arm, oblivious to the tension around her.

I thought I was done with shots, but it turned out I needed a tetanus booster.

The last week of seventh grade, our teachers sent us home with bags of stuff we had accumulated over the year. Old papers, art projects, and of course—piles and piles of worksheets.

I opened up my backpack and rummaged around. I found a few old napkins shoved in there.

“What are you doing in here?”
“Helping you clean,” my mother responded without a smidgen of guilt.

People bumped and shoved me out of their way as I trudged down the hall.

“Why are we going this way?” I asked.
“Because,” Mom replied in her typical way.

Ms. Tracy hunkered down to meet my little brother eye to eye.

When Sam gestured my way, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ben slump down. Ha! So Alice in Fartland was his. I sat up a little straighter.

“Well, that’s because I want to act, not be a writer—” Jessica spat the word out like being a writer was a fate worse than death.

On the final night of Alice in Wonderland, the roars of applause surrounded us and Tak’s sharp whistles of appreciation pierced through the ruckus like exploding confetti.

She paused like she was wondering if it would be okay to use the type of language she wanted to use, or if she should refrain since she was still in the children’s theater office.

You guys made me love it again. The directing. The collaboration to create something awesome.

So many people dream of being a big star, and does everyone’s dream come true? Course not. Will people with connections and money get the gig more times than you? Absolutely.

Once the leeches get an inkling that you might be able to do something for them, they come out of the woodwork, all sunshine and false promises.

“So...” she drawled. “Whaddaya say we get some frozen yogurt at the new place that opened near the Wendy’s?”