Chapter

10

I’VE DELIVERED ATTENDANCE SHEETS TO the principal’s office before, so I know that there are two doors you have to walk through. The first one leads to the general office, where there’s a set of cubbies to the right and a long wooden bench to the left. Right in front is the counter where Ms. Jensen, the principal’s aide, sits. You have to first check in with her, and after she lets Principal Klein know you’re here through the phone intercom, you wait on the bench until Principal Klein calls you into her actual office, which is behind the counter and directly in back.

So after I say goodbye to Mr. Silvers and make my way across campus to the administration building, I push the first door open like it’s no big deal. It’s the second door that’s scary.

But when I step into the waiting room, I stop in my tracks.

Because sitting there on the wooden bench next to the door to Principal’s Klein’s office is Marcos Alvarez.

What kind of trouble has he gotten into now?

Marcos has his usual baseball cap on, and his sticker-covered skateboard is propped upright against his knee.

“Hey, it’s you again.” He tilts his chin up in a typical skater-boy greeting. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, I’m here to talk to Principal Klein about something,” I reply shyly, my face starting to flush pink at the memory of me running away from him yesterday at Power Records.

But Marcos just looks back at me through those long eyelashes. Without Ketchup Boy around, he seems less . . . threatening.

“Why are you here?” I manage to ask.

He twirls the wheel on his skateboard, sending it into motion in a smooth, satisfying, neon-green blur. “I’m here to help my aunt and uncle with an appointment they have with Principal Klein. They don’t speak English very well, so I’m going to translate for them.”

My eyebrows pop up in surprise. He’s here to help his family?

“I do that for my cousin sometimes, too,” I admit. “She’s having some trouble keeping up with reading and writing in English. Our parents won’t ask for extra help, so I’m going to ask Principal Klein for it.”

Marcos looks at me with a strange expression on his face. “You? You’re going to ask the principal for extra help?”

“Yeah.” My jerk radar suddenly clicks on. “What’s wrong with that?”

He shrugs. “I guess I assumed you wouldn’t ask the principal for more than what she’s already giving us. You know, Student of the Year and all that.”

I stand a smidge taller. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you’re like every teacher’s favorite student. Why challenge the system that’s gotten you to where you’re at?”

Uh-oh. Marcos has a point. Mr. Silvers thought that me being Student of the Year meant Principal Klein would pay more attention to what I have to say. But what if he’s wrong and me questioning why there aren’t ESL classes at Pacific Park Middle makes me look ungrateful instead? What if it’s worse that the Student of the Year challenges her, instead of supports her decisions?

Doubt begins to creep into my veins. Am I seriously going to ask Principal Klein to change her mind? She already said no to Mr. Silvers when he asked.

Marcos keeps looking at me, like he’s expecting me to say more. But I don’t know what to say. If Vivian were here, she’d know what to do.

But she’s not.

A few awkward seconds tick by until Marcos reaches into his backpack and pulls out a CD. “By the way, this is the album I was telling you about the other day. I know you said you weren’t interested, but I’m telling you, it’s pretty sick.”

I blush again at the memory of me freaking out and running into the supermarket. The truth is, I’m super curious about what music he’s talking about. So I take the CD and read the words on the cover. “Oh, it’s the Smashing Pumpkins,” I exclaim excitedly. “I’ve heard of them before.”

“You have?” Marcos asks, his head tilted. “I thought they were new on the scene.”

“Yeah, they kinda are. But I read about them in a magazine the other day,” I reply.

“Their music is so good. A bit different from the Nirvana/Pearl Jam/Soundgarden vibe. You can borrow it if you want,” Marcos offers.

“Really?” No one’s ever lent me a CD before.

“Yeah, I’m not worried about someone like you messing it up or anything.”

Sigh. There it is again—Lily Xiao, perfect little class robot.

But it’s a small price to pay for new music. “Okay, thanks. I’d love to borrow it.” I tuck the album safely into my backpack.

“By the way, I don’t only listen to grunge music. I play it, too.” He grins at me proudly.

“You do?” I don’t know anyone in a real rock band besides Keiko.

Although now that I think about it, it makes sense that Marcos is in a rock band. He fits the grunge look and vibe perfectly: boys with long hair and baseball caps or beanies, a “who cares” attitude, T-shirts, baggy jeans, and skateboards.

But Keiko’s in a rock band, too, and she’s just as grunge as Marcos.

What exactly does it take to be grunge, anyway?

I fiddle with the zipper on my backpack. “How did you learn to play?”

Marcos shrugs and starts to spin the wheels of his skateboard again. “My older brother’s in college and he taught me. He lets me use his stuff all the time. Plus, I go to this camp every summer.”

“Camp Rock Out?” I blurt out.

“Yeah.” He looks at me, his right eyebrow arched. “You know it?”

I nod. “My cousin and I want to go this summer.”

“Whoa, girls like you two going to Camp Rock Out? That’d be a first.” He laughs.

Something hot in my chest rises to the surface. “What’s that supposed to mean?” My voice comes out louder than I expected it to.

“No girls ever come to Camp Rock Out. And no one who . . . you know . . . looks like you. Have you ever gotten loud and angry? I have to say, I can’t picture it.”

At his words, my face flashes red. Is he making fun of the idea of Asian girls like me and Vivian going to Camp Rock Out? What matters is that we love the music. That’s enough for us to belong there. . . .

Isn’t it?

And what’s this about us not being able to get loud and angry? Of course we can get that way! I would have exploded if Ah-ma didn’t stop me at the supermarket.

In fact, I feel it flare up now. It’s time to say something and put this guy in his place.

Suddenly, the door to the principal’s office swings open, and Principal Klein appears in the doorway, tapping her foot impatiently.

And just like that, the flame inside me, ready to fight Marcos Alvarez, completely dies out, like a bucket of water has been dumped over my head. Clearly, my family’s caution around authority figures has totally rubbed off on me, because seeing the ultimate authority at Pacific Park Middle stops me cold.

I mean, she calls all the shots around here.

Plus, Principal Klein is built tall and sturdy, with her brownish-gray hair piled up high on her head, like Ah-ma’s, which makes her look even bigger. Her usual outfit of stiff, button-up gray or tan blouses and pencil skirts that hit at the knee makes her look all business, and her heels make a distinct clip-clop sound as she walks around the school, visiting classrooms and tending to . . . whatever it is principals do all day.

“Marcos,” Principal Klein says sternly, arms crossed. “What are you doing here? Did you get in trouble again today?”

“No, ma’am,” he responds politely, although I can see his cheeks redden slightly under his tan skin.

Meanwhile, I’m a bit taken aback by how quickly Principal Klein assumed Marcos was here for doing something bad. Although, I thought the exact same thing when I first saw him.

“I’m here to help my aunt and uncle with the meeting they have with you this afternoon. Their son, Carlos Garcia, is my cousin.”

“Ah, I didn’t realize they were your family. And they’re running late,” she says, pointing at her watch with a long finger.

“They should be here any minute, ma’am.” Marcos stands up, hoisting his backpack up onto his shoulders. “Sometimes the buses get delayed.”

“Lily Xiao!” Principal Klein suddenly exclaims, noticing me for the first time. “To what do I owe the pleasure? How’s our Student of the Year doing?”

I squirm under her sharp gaze and my palms get clammy. But I push myself to answer. “I’d like to talk to you about my cousin, too,” I say with all the confidence I can muster.

“I’m intrigued.” Principal Klein arches her left eyebrow. “This meeting shouldn’t take long. Can you wait a bit?”

I nod.

The waiting room door suddenly creaks open, and a woman with long dark hair peers inside. She’s got Marcos’s soft eyelashes, although her hair is much curlier and cascades down her back in waves. When she spots Marcos, a big smile breaks across her face.

“¡Ya llegamos!” She turns around and calls out into the hallway. “Está aquí.”

A man in a black fleece jacket and worn jeans appears behind her. They shuffle in hesitantly.

“Hola, tîos.” Marcos beckons them in. “Principal Klein, this is my aunt and uncle, Graciela and Juve Garcia. They’re here to talk to you about how Carlos is doing in school.”

The two of them bow slightly and hunch their bodies in a way that strikes me as familiar. Where have I seen this energy before?

It hits me. Ah-ma had the same body language with that awful man at the supermarket. Like she was bowing down to someone superior to her.

“Thank you for coming. Let’s go inside so we can talk.” Principal Klein ushers them into her office.

Marcos speaks to his aunt and uncle in Spanish, then the four of them head into the principal’s office.

As I watch them leave, my head whirls. Laughing at the idea of me and Vivian going to Camp Rock Out makes Marcos a total jerk. But he’s also a protector of his family, like I am with Ah-ma and Vivian.

Plus, he lent me his Smashing Pumpkins album.

Maybe skater boys have more than one side to them, too.

Like class robots do.

Ten minutes later, Principal Klein’s door opens up again. Marcos’s aunt and uncle shuffle out, clutching white papers to their chests. Marcos trudges behind them, scowling.

I turn off the music I’d been listening to. “Are you okay, Marcos?” I whisper.

“This school is so unfair,” he mutters. “Principal Klein says my cousin isn’t doing well enough in class because of his English. But at the same time, she’s not going to do anything to help him get better,” Marcos growls. “Vengan, vamos a casa.” He leads his aunt and uncle out of the office, and the door bangs shut behind them.

“Lily, come on in. I’m ready for you now,” Principal Klein calls out from her office.

Now it’s my turn.

Uh-oh. If Marcos struck out, that means I’m going to strike out, too. There’s no way she’s going to say yes to me if she’s already said no to Marcos and his family.

Mr. Silvers has tried asking her for more ESL help, too. If other people couldn’t change Principal Klein’s mind, how am I going to?

Robot: abort mission.