Chapter 12:

Good Neighbors

Leader. I chewed on the tip of my pen for a second and then wrote a sentence in my best handwriting. The aliens took the scientist to their ship to meet their leader.

Ancient. The explorer gained magical powers when she stepped through an ancient portal.

Mom leaned over my shoulder, reading what I had written. “These are your spelling words for the week? Your teacher is going to think you’re trying to win an award in fiction writing.”

I shrugged, moving my paper slightly so that the tomato sauce clinging to her wooden spoon wouldn’t drip onto my homework. “I think it’s worth it to make the sentences interesting.”

Mom smiled. “Good strategy! It probably helps you remember the words, too.” Suddenly, her smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “Shoot,” she said. “I’m out of oregano.” She glanced out the window. The sky was orange and purple as the sun was starting to go down, but it wasn’t dark yet. “Maya, can you and Ralph—”

I had already pushed my chair away from the table, eager for a chance to take a break from my homework. “Go to the store and get some so that our spaghetti sauce is delicious?” I did a quick salute, like I was accepting an important mission. “You got it.” I looked over at Ralph, who was busy helping Amir build a tower of blocks in the corner. “Ralph, let’s go to the store.”

OKAY, MAYA.

Ralph headed toward the door. Amir looked betrayed and mad at me for stealing his assistant. “Raf block!” He waved a block at us menacingly. “Come!”

“Sorry, Amir,” I said as I zipped up my coat. “Back in a second.”

As we walked down the block, I warmed up right away—I almost didn’t need my coat at all. I loved the feeling of independence as Ralph and I made our way to the store, me skipping and Ralph rumbling along on his tire-tread feet. When we got inside, an older man was standing at the counter talking to Mr. Mac. They were both frowning, looking frustrated.

“Hey, Mr. Mac!” I said. “Ralph and I are here for some oregano.”

“Oh, okay, Maya. You know where it is.” Mr. Mac paused, glancing back at the older man. “Say, Maya, do you know any Spanish?”

“Poquito español,” I said, looking carefully at the labels of each spice in the spice rack and searching for oregano. Cumin, curry, adobo, basil . . . “We don’t start learning it at my school until sixth grade.” I turned toward Mr. Mac and the man at the counter. The man had a city bus map spread across the counter and was pointing at it.

“Estoy buscando el autobús setenta,” he said, gesturing at the map. “Setenta oeste.” Mr. Mac looked helpless.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “No hablo.” Mr. Mac turned to me sadly. “I hate not being able to help him. Mrs. Crespo was in here a few minutes ago. She would have been able to help.” He looked back at the man and shrugged hopelessly. The man, looking disappointed, nodded his head in polite thanks, folded his map, and left, the bells ringing behind him.

Mr. Mac shook his head as I put the oregano onto the counter. “I wish I’d studied some Spanish in school,” he said.

“It’s not too late!” I said cheerily, counting out the money to pay as Ralph hung back near the shelf, quietly and neatly reorganizing the spices I had messed up during my oregano search. “You can take a class!”

“No, I know,” said Mr. Mac. “But it’s not only Spanish. We have so many folks around here who speak Arabic, or Chinese. I feel bad when I’m not being as helpful to them as I should, or being as neighborly as I want to, because we have a language barrier.” He handed me my oregano, sighing heavily. “Ah well. Careful getting home, Maya.”

That night, when my homework was finished, I had washed the dishes, and Mom was reading Amir a bedtime story, I sat curled on the couch scribbling in my blue notebook. I couldn’t stop thinking about the man at the store—what if he really needed help with something important, or an emergency? And Mr. Mac had looked so sad at not being able to answer his question. I jotted down notes so quickly that my handwriting, which is usually neat, was hard to read. One-on-one coaching? That would take too long. Online learning—headphones? But . . . yes! I made one more note, circled it, then went to brush my teeth.

The next day, after I begged Mom to take me to the library, I stumbled through the door to our apartment with so many audio CDs that my arms were aching. The librarian had been surprised that I wanted them or that I even knew what they were. “Everyone uses those language learning apps these days,” he lamented.

“I’m kind of old-school,” I said, handing him my library card.

Back at home, I dug through a pile of old electronics in a milk crate at the back of my closet—mostly stuff Mr. Mac had saved for me over the years, and a few yard sale finds—until I found what I needed. A disc drive and an SD memory card. I pried open the first plastic CD case and got to work.

Just as the sun was about to go down, Ralph and I once again rounded the corner to Mr. Mac’s. Zaid was at the counter buying a newspaper for his grandmother and some hair gel for himself. He waved at us as we entered.

“Hey, Zaid,” I said. “Can you help me test Ralph on something?”

Zaid drummed out a beat on the counter absentmindedly, waiting for Mr. Mac to count out his change. “Sure,” he said.

“Say something in Arabic. Anything.”

Zaid raised an eyebrow. “Uh, okay. Shukran. It means—”

“Don’t tell me!” I turned to Ralph. “Ralph, translate to English.”

THANK YOU.

I frowned. “For what? Dang. I really thought this would work.” But Zaid was smiling.

“That’s what I said.” He grinned. “Shukran means ‘thank you’ in Arabic. One of the few words I know, honestly. I really don’t speak it too much except for the words my grandma yells at me when she wants me to turn the channel on the TV for her.” He opened the door to leave. “You’re doing big things with that robot, Maya. Keep it up. See you later, Mr. Mac. Thanks for the discount on the gel.”

Mr. Mac waved after him. “Shukran!” He turned to me and laughed. “Maya, did you teach Ralph to be a translator?”

“Yup!” I tapped proudly on Ralph’s belly. “I took out every copy of Professor Pangloss’s Deluxe Audio Language Courses from the library and transferred them to an old memory card. Ralph is now fluent in Spanish, Arabic, Mandarin Chinese, French, and just for fun, Latin. So next time someone comes in here needing help in another language, he’s got your back!”

Mr. Mac put his elbow on the counter and leaned forward admiringly. “Not bad, Maya. Not bad at all. Carpe diem.”