May-lee Chai
Training Days
May-lee Chai is the author of eight books, including the memoir Hapa Girl, a Kiriyama Prize Notable Book; the novel Dragon Chica; and the novel Tiger Girl, which won an Asian/Pacific American Award for Literature. She teaches creative writing and literary translation at San Francisco State University.
First published by GemmaMedia in 2018.
GemmaMedia
230 Commercial Street
Boston MA 02109 USA
www.gemmamedia.com
©2018 by May-lee Chai
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Printed in the United States of America
978-1-936846-62-7
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Chai, May-Lee, author.
Title: Training days / May-Lee Chai.
Description: Boston MA : GemmaMedia, 2017. | Series: Gemma open doors
Identifiers: LCCN 2017040459 | ISBN 9781936846627
Classification: LCC PS3553.H2423 T73 2017 | DDC 813/.54–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017040459
Cover by Laura Shaw Design
Gemma’s Open Doors provide fresh stories, new ideas, and essential resources for young people and adults as they embrace the power of reading and the written word.
Brian Bouldrey
Series Editor
Open Door
For Judy Blume
For Judy Blume
“If Sally could sing like her father, or even whistle, she wouldn’t be in the listener group in music class. It wasn’t much fun to mouth the words while everyone else got to sing them. Sometimes Sally would forget to just listen and she would sing too. Then Miss Vickers would ask, ‘Sally Freedman . . . are you singing out loud?’ and Sally would go back to mouthing the words.”
—Starring Sally J. Freedman as Herself
Characters
Aunt Mei, pronounced “MAY”
Cindy Van Lenten—Jun-li’s classmate
George—Jun-li’s Siberian husky
Jeremy—Jun-li’s brother, three years younger
Jun-li, pronounced “JUN-LEE”—eleven-year-old girl
Linda—Jun-li’s mother
Madison—Jun-li’s cousin, daughter of Aunt Mei
Maria Glinbizzi, pronounced “glin-BIT-zee”—Jun-li’s friend with dark, curly hair
Mr. Tralucci, pronounced “trah-LOO-chee”—father of one of Jeremy’s classmates
Nai-nai, pronounced “NYE-NYE” (rhymes with bye-bye)—Jun-li’s grandmother
Sean, pronounced “SHAHN”—Maria’s brother, one year younger
Uncle Roger—Aunt Mei’s husband, father of Madison and the twins
Walter—Jun-li’s dad, brother of Uncle Roger
Ye-ye, pronounced “YEH-YEH”—Jun-li’s grandfather
Chapter 1
“Did you get yours yet?” Maria asked. She pulled the package out of her dresser. It was her new training bra. It was white and stretchy and had two pink rosebuds sewn between the cups.
I felt my cheeks grow hot. I looked down so my hair fell in front of my face, like looking at the bra was so interesting, I just couldn’t look up again. “My mother says we’re going to wait till the end of the summer.”
“That’s in case you grow,” Maria said. “That’s what my mother was worried about, too. But my dad said she’d better hurry up. Can you believe it? At the dinner table. In front of Sean.”
“Oh my god. I can’t believe your dad said that.” I was suddenly thankful my father was too busy to ever notice anything I was doing.
“I know,” she said. Maria twisted one of her long, dark, curly locks around her index finger. “That’s why I’m hiding it. I think Sean and his stupid friends were looking through my stuff.”
“What a jerk,” I said.
“He’s a pervert,” Maria agreed.
Maria’s brother was only a year behind us in school. Sometimes I’d see Sean in the hallway, waiting with his friends to go to the bathroom or lining up in front of the drinking fountain. At Maria’s house, he was like a little kid, sitting in front of the TV, shooting a toy gun at the Klingons, pew pew pew! But at school, the boys he hung out with whistled in the halls and called girls names.
I was glad my brother, Jeremy, was three years younger. It made him more manageable.
At least when we started junior high in September, Sean would still be in elementary school, and we wouldn’t have to worry about him for a year.
“Look, Jun-li, do you wanna guess where it was made?” Maria pulled the bra’s tag up so that I could see. In very clear red letters it said, made in r.o.c.
Suddenly, my face burned anew. Republic of China. I knew exactly where that was on the map. It was a small island in the sea next to the bigger mainland. Dad had lived there as a boy, but I couldn’t picture him there. Instead, I thought of my grandparents who’d lived in Taipei before coming to America five years ago. Ye-ye always dressed up in his suit when we went out to eat dinner as a family, and Nai-nai wore her Chinese-style dresses in New York. Still, the image came to me of dozens of old women who looked just like my grandmother hunched over sewing machines, sewing little bras for American girls. I felt ashamed, although I did not know why. I braced myself for whatever Maria would say. Would she think my family had made her bra?
“Rock,” she pronounced. “Isn’t that funny? What kind of country is that?”
Poor Maria, I thought, relieved. But then I realized that maybe this was secretly why we were friends. I could feel safe with her. I was always one step ahead.
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s like Rocky the movie.” I laughed. “Yo, Adrian!” I called in my best Rocky voice.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s just like that,” she said, and she snatched the bra and put it over her shirt, her fists in the cups. “Yo, Adrian!” she called to herself, and then pranced around. Maybe she was supposed to be Adrian, or just some woman with a bra, something ridiculous like that. We both laughed and laughed until Maria farted and then she turned red and ran outside her room, then back inside, and farted again. We both rolled on her carpet, hysterical.
Chapter 2
I was still on Nancy Drew 43: The Mystery of the 99 Steps, and the muggy days in northern New Jersey stretched taffy-slow from one Good Humor truck to the next.
That summer, my father was under contract to write a new textbook, and he was stressed-out, tense and angry all the time. There were pages of the book spread on the dining room table, on the folding table Dad had set up in the living room, and on the ping-pong table in the basement. Jeremy and I weren’t allowed to go into the rooms where Dad was working, so there was no ping-pong for us all summer.
At least this work meant Mom and Dad were arguing less than usual. In fact, they weren’t really talking much at all. Dad was busy typing and Mom was busy teaching summer school.
I hadn’t thought about getting my bra until Maria brought it up. Then I felt left behind.