Mama’s showing us how to make norimaki
sushi in home ec. “Put a seaweed on this makisu,”
she says, holding up the bamboo mat for rolling sushi.
“Seaweed?” Debbie asks. “Ick.”
“It tastes good. You’ll see.
Then, take this rice and press it on the seaweed.”
Miss Whittaker studies what Mama is doing.
“Mm-hmm,” she says
every now and then, and writes each step on the board.
Then we fill our rice with the cucumbers and carrots
and fish cake and sweetened scrambled egg
that Mama brought from home.
She also brought sliced hot dogs
for the girls who don’t want fish in their sushi.
I’m so happy that my shy mom came to school
and showed the girls part of herself—
and part of me.
Miss Whittaker says we should save some sushi for the boys,
but everyone groans
and says the boys can make their own.
Then I say, “Only if they could take home ec,”
and Debbie calls me a rebel.
“Sushi’s good,” Linda says. “How do you say that, Mrs. Oliver?”
“Oishii,” Mama says, then says it again
slowly with Linda. “O-i-shii.”
“Please have a seat, Mrs. Oliver,” Miss Whittaker says.
I point to the empty chair at our table,
but Mama sits with Kim and Karen,
who are popping sushi into their mouths
and saying, “Oishii!”
But then
the worst thing happens.
Kim smiles at Mama and bows,
and says, “Thank you, Baka-san,”
and Karen does the same thing.
Mama’s face grows pink
and her eyes wide.
She looks at me, like she’s asking “Nani?”
I shiver,
but then she covers her mouth and laughs.
Kim and Karen look at each other,
puzzled. “Did we say it wrong?”
Mama shakes her head and asks,
“Did Mimi teach you that?”
“Yes,” Karen says. “Why?”
“She will explain,” Mama says. “Won’t you, Mimi?”
After school I have to tell Kim and Karen
what I did and why I lied,
and apologize.
“Well, it was kinda mean,” Kim says.
Then Karen giggles, and Kim giggles,
“But it was kinda funny, too,” Karen says,
and then I don’t feel so guilty.
“Your mom is really nice,” Kim says. “And she’s so cute.”
My mama is cute, and it makes me happy
they think so. But she’s so much more.
“Maybe you could
come to my house after school someday,” I say carefully.
“Sure. We can make more sushi.”
We stop at the drugstore, where we’ll go in different directions.
“See you tomorrow,” I say, heading toward Papa’s building.
Karen calls, “Okay, see you . . . Baka!”
And we all giggle until we’re out of sight.