Blackbird Fly

It's hard for me to fall asleep when I'm mad, because the anger swirls around my head and keeps me awake like a bad song that won't stop playing.

None of it mattered, because there was music.

When you say something out loud, it makes it a big truth. Best to keep it in your mind and keep it small

It's funny how something can be a big part of your life, and then you can forget it's even there.

On the day we moved to America, it snowed in Chapel Spring, Louisiana, for the first time in twenty years. My mother said it was a sign that the seasons of our lives were changing. Even though I was only four years old, I can still remember how she hugged me close and said we had something wonderful to look forward to: a life as real Americans.

I believe that everyone on Earth has at least three interesting facts about them.

My mom may not have a favorite song, but she has favorite stories. One of them is about the day we arrived in America. The day it snowed. That’s the story she told the morning of Alyssa Tate’s party, as she stirred a pot of sizzling garlic fried rice and adjusted her apron. It was the white one with Mabuhay Philippines! written on it in fat, red letters. I always thought it was funny how she couldn’t wait to become American, but once we lived in America, she surrounded herself with things from back home. We have a Santo Niño in our curio cabinet, pancit and chicken adobo in our refrigerator, and that apron. Stupid apron.

There weren’t any other bikes outside Alyssa’s house, which meant the boys hadn’t shown up yet. It was four weeks into the school year, and Alyssa always had a back-to-school party, but this year she invited only me, Gretchen Scott, and some of the boys from our grade. She said it was her mission to have a boyfriend all year, and she had her sights on Jake Bevans.

When Evan came over, the first thing I wanted to do was properly introduce him to George, John, Ringo, and Paul. We went into my room, and I turned on The White Album. We had to leave the door open, because my mother said I wasn’t allowed to have Evan in my room with the door closed. He sat on the floor with his back against the foot of my bed and looked at my poster of Matt Costa, but I could tell he wasn’t really-really looking at it. He was listening to my mom speak Cebuano on the phone with Lita. I couldn’t understand everything she was saying, but it sounded like she was asking her to bring something sweet for dessert.

The permission slip outlined our agenda for the day: aquarium, lunch, planetarium, museum. The trip was in eight weeks, just before Thanksgiving break. Mr. Ted went over every detail piece by piece, but no one was really listening. Everyone was blabbing about how lucky we were that we didn’t get stuck with a boring trip to the state capitol. I was busy thinking about the Dog Log and tearing the chaperone sign-up portion from the bottom of the paper so I could get rid of it.

I scanned the lunch crowd for date possibilities of my own, but I saw only the same faces I’d seen since elementary school, and none of them would want to go with a girl on the Dog Log. Who could blame them? I saw the neon sign again—DOG LOG, DOG LOG, DOG LOG—and felt the corners of my eyes moisten, so I blinked and blinked and then pretended I had an eyelash caught in my eye. When I finally looked up, I saw an unfamiliar head of messy brown hair by the vending machines. It was a boy I’d never seen before. Even though he was standing in the crowd, he wasn’t part of it. He was leaning against the wall, reading a book.

It's weird how something can be so scary and awesome all at the same time..