Afterwards, when they all become professionals, they have good work habits and get promoted sooner.”
Tully’s mother didn’t just talk to you; she lectured. She also had a pretty warped idea of how the world worked.
“So what subjects did you pick this year, Lucy?”
I listed them, one by one. Mrs Cho’s eyes widened when I finished. “No advanced maths?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m no good at it, Mrs Cho.”
“But how are you going to get into university without taking an advanced subject?”
I didn’t dare tell her that I also intended to drop most of my science subjects when I got to Year Eleven next year, Linh. She would have had a heart attack and collapsed on her tray of duck livers. Instead, I smiled, because within our community a smile often seemed to be the right answer to anything if you’re a girl. “I don’t want to be a doctor or anything like that.”
“What do you think you will do, then? Law?”
“No,” I confessed. “I’d like to get into teaching.”
“Wah! What a waste, with you being so smart. Aiyoh, such a waste. So much smarter than Tully!”
I didn’t take the bait. “Not sure about that.”
“Ah, that Tully!” Mrs Cho sighed. “Uncle says she’s lazy and, well, you know, that kind of ding-dong way she has – so helpless and impractical. We despair. What will she ever make of herself? She’s not as stable or as hardworking as you are, Lucy Lam.”
Even though I didn’t really like Tully, it seemed unfair that her own mother would talk about her like this.
“Ay, ay,” she said, waving me closer. “I know why Tully did not get into the school. Her English is not as good as yours. I remember now, Lucy, you won the Year Eight poetry competition! Yes! You!”
I smiled again, although by now my jaw was beginning to feel sore.
“Maybe you can come over and give Tully some lessons in English, huh?” she asked. I said yes to be polite, knowing that the last thing Tully needed was tutoring from me.
Mrs Cho handed me the bloodied block of steak in a plastic bag with a knot tied at the top. “Well, pass on our regards to your mum and dad. They must be very proud of you.”
“Yes, I will. Thanks, Mrs Cho.”
*
There was a letter from the school in our mailbox when I arrived home.
Dear Mr Lam,
It appears that your daughter is not participating in Laurinda’s extracurricular Physical Education Programme. We stress the importance of physical education for the overall health of every student, and for the beneficial effects of teamwork.
Lucy has been signed up for netball but has not attended any games this term. Please ensure that she . . .
I dropped the letter in the kitchen bin and went to the garage, where I found the Lamb in his cardboard box. He listlessly banged his rattle and one-eyed terry-towelling duck together.
“Yo, Lamb,” I said, picking him up. “What have you been up to today?”
His nose was running, so I tore a sheet from a roll of toilet paper Mum had left nearby and wiped his face. A streak of blue stained his cheek. That was strange, I thought; I hadn’t seen textas in his box today. Then I looked at the wad in my hands and realised that the tissue was also daubed blue. I looked back at the Lamb, and wiped his nose again. His snot was the same blue that a Toilet Duck cube would turn the water after you flushed.
“Ma!” I yelled. “Ma, come and have a look at this!”
“Coming, coming. No need to yell the house down.” My mother came back into the garage with Lamb’s bottle and set it down next to her overlocker. “What is it?”
“His snot is blue!”
“Let me see.”
I showed her the tissue, and as she took it from me I noticed that her fingertips were the same blue. After examining the tissue, she looked at the pile of denim jeans by her sewing machine. “Oh, crap,” she sighed. “He’s breathing it all in.”
She was right: the Lamb had been inhaling the floating blue-dyed dust motes whenever my mother shook
Tully’s mother didn’t just talk to you; she lectured. She also had a pretty warped idea of how the world worked.
“So what subjects did you pick this year, Lucy?”
I listed them, one by one. Mrs Cho’s eyes widened when I finished. “No advanced maths?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m no good at it, Mrs Cho.”
“But how are you going to get into university without taking an advanced subject?”
I didn’t dare tell her that I also intended to drop most of my science subjects when I got to Year Eleven next year, Linh. She would have had a heart attack and collapsed on her tray of duck livers. Instead, I smiled, because within our community a smile often seemed to be the right answer to anything if you’re a girl. “I don’t want to be a doctor or anything like that.”
“What do you think you will do, then? Law?”
“No,” I confessed. “I’d like to get into teaching.”
“Wah! What a waste, with you being so smart. Aiyoh, such a waste. So much smarter than Tully!”
I didn’t take the bait. “Not sure about that.”
“Ah, that Tully!” Mrs Cho sighed. “Uncle says she’s lazy and, well, you know, that kind of ding-dong way she has – so helpless and impractical. We despair. What will she ever make of herself? She’s not as stable or as hardworking as you are, Lucy Lam.”
Even though I didn’t really like Tully, it seemed unfair that her own mother would talk about her like this.
“Ay, ay,” she said, waving me closer. “I know why Tully did not get into the school. Her English is not as good as yours. I remember now, Lucy, you won the Year Eight poetry competition! Yes! You!”
I smiled again, although by now my jaw was beginning to feel sore.
“Maybe you can come over and give Tully some lessons in English, huh?” she asked. I said yes to be polite, knowing that the last thing Tully needed was tutoring from me.
Mrs Cho handed me the bloodied block of steak in a plastic bag with a knot tied at the top. “Well, pass on our regards to your mum and dad. They must be very proud of you.”
“Yes, I will. Thanks, Mrs Cho.”
*
There was a letter from the school in our mailbox when I arrived home.
Dear Mr Lam,
It appears that your daughter is not participating in Laurinda’s extracurricular Physical Education Programme. We stress the importance of physical education for the overall health of every student, and for the beneficial effects of teamwork.
Lucy has been signed up for netball but has not attended any games this term. Please ensure that she . . .
I dropped the letter in the kitchen bin and went to the garage, where I found the Lamb in his cardboard box. He listlessly banged his rattle and one-eyed terry-towelling duck together.
“Yo, Lamb,” I said, picking him up. “What have you been up to today?”
His nose was running, so I tore a sheet from a roll of toilet paper Mum had left nearby and wiped his face. A streak of blue stained his cheek. That was strange, I thought; I hadn’t seen textas in his box today. Then I looked at the wad in my hands and realised that the tissue was also daubed blue. I looked back at the Lamb, and wiped his nose again. His snot was the same blue that a Toilet Duck cube would turn the water after you flushed.
“Ma!” I yelled. “Ma, come and have a look at this!”
“Coming, coming. No need to yell the house down.” My mother came back into the garage with Lamb’s bottle and set it down next to her overlocker. “What is it?”
“His snot is blue!”
“Let me see.”
I showed her the tissue, and as she took it from me I noticed that her fingertips were the same blue. After examining the tissue, she looked at the pile of denim jeans by her sewing machine. “Oh, crap,” she sighed. “He’s breathing it all in.”
She was right: the Lamb had been inhaling the floating blue-dyed dust motes whenever my mother shook
Similar Books
