Chapter 9 Chapter Eight Dialogue with Father

The assignment for Maya's creative writing class was to write a short story about a person who wanted to know more. "To me, my biological father is an illusion," she wrote.She thinks the first sentence is good, but what should I write next?After writing two hundred and fifty words, the whole morning was wasted, and she surrendered.Nothing to write about, because she knew nothing about the man.To her, he really was an illusion.This assignment failed from conception. AJ sent her a grilled cheese sandwich. "How's the writing going, little Hemingway?" "You never knock?" she said.She took the sandwich and closed the door.She used to like living above the bookstore, but now that she was fourteen and Amelia lived here, the place felt small and noisy.She could hear the voices of customers downstairs all day long.With such conditions, how can people write?

In desperation, Maya wrote about Amelia's cat. "'The Blue Pit' never expected to move from Providence to Alice Island." She revised it: "'The Melancholy Pit' never imagined he would be living above a bookstore." gimmick.Creative writing teacher Mr. Balboni would say that.She's already written a short story from the point of view of the rain and one from the point of view of an old library book. "Interesting concept," Mr. Balboni wrote on the story in the old library book, "but next time you could try a character. Do you really want anthropomorphic writing to be your thing?"

She had to look up what "anthropomorphic writing" meant before making a decision, and no, she didn't want that to be her routine.She didn't want to have any routine at all.However, if this is somewhat her way, can she be blamed?Her childhood was spent reading books and imagining the lives of her customers, sometimes for inanimate objects like teapots or bookmark carousels.This kind of childhood is not lonely, but many of her close friends are somewhat unreal. After a while, Amelia knocked on the door. "Are you writing? Can I take a break?" "Come in," Maya said.

Amelia plopped down on the bed. "what are you writing?" "I don't know. That's the problem. I thought I figured out how to write it, but it doesn't work." "Oh, that's a problem." Maya explained the homework. "Write about someone important to you. Someone who is likely dead, or someone you want to know more about." "Maybe you could write about your mother?" Maya shook her head.She didn't want to hurt Amelia's feelings, but that seemed a little obvious. "I know as little about her as I do about my biological father," she said.

"You lived with her for two years. You know her name, and her past stories. Maybe you can start from here." "I knew everything she wanted to know. She had a chance, but she blew everything up." "It's not like that," said Amelia. "She gave up, didn't she?" "She probably had a hard time. I'm sure she tried her best." Amelia's mother died two years ago, and despite the tension between the two, Amelia still misses her unexpectedly.For example, her mother sent her new underwear every other month until she died.She will never have to buy underwear in her life.Standing unknowingly in the lingerie section of a TJ Max store recently, as she rummaged through the panty bin, she cried: No one will ever love me like that again.

"Someone who died?" AJ said over dinner. "How about Daniel Parrish? You were good friends with him." "That was when I was a kid," Maya said. "Didn't he make you decide to be a writer?" AJ said. Maya rolled her eyes. "no." "She had a crush on him as a kid," AJ said to Amelia. "D--Dad! It's not like that." "Your first crush in literature matters," Amelia said. "I had a crush on John Irving." "You lied," AJ said, "it's Ann M. Martin." Amelia laughed and poured herself another glass of wine. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"I'm glad you all thought this was fun," Maya said. "I'm probably going to fail, and I'm probably going to end up like my mom." She got up from her desk and ran to her room.Their quarters were not the place for the rampage, and she hit a bookshelf with her knee. "This place is too small," she said. She entered her room and closed the door with a bang. "Should I follow?" AJ whispered. "No, she needs space. She's hitting puberty, let her sulk." "Maybe she's right," AJ said, "this place is too small."

They have been looking at houses online since they got married.Now that Maya is a teenager, the one-bathroom abode in the attic has magically shrunk accordingly.Half the time, AJ found himself having to use the public bathroom in the bookstore to avoid competing with Maya and Amelia.Customers are more polite than these two.Plus, business was good (or at least stable), and if they moved, he could expand the place into a children's book section, with a storytelling area, and space for gifts and greeting cards. With the price they can afford on Alice Island, all they can afford are starter homes, and AJ feels that he has passed the age of buying a starter home.Odd kitchen and floor plan, too small rooms, ominous omens of foundation problems.Before that, the number of times AJ thought of "Timerlan" with regret was very few.

Later that night, Maya found a note under her door: Yes, Dollhouse by Katherine Mansfield, Best Day for Bananafish by JD Salinger, Brownies or Coffee Elsewhere by ZZ Parker, Amy Hempel "In the Graveyard Where Al Jolson Was Buried," Raymond Carver's "Fat," Ernest Hemingway's "Indian Camp." She stuffed the list into her pocket and went downstairs. The bookstore was closed.She spins the bookmark carousel—hey, hello, carousel! —and then a sharp right turn into the Literary for Adult Readers section. Maya was nervous and a little excited when she handed the short story to Mr. Balboni.

"A Day at the Beach." He read the title. "It's written from Sand's point of view," Maya said. "It's winter on Alice Island, and Sand misses those tourists." Mr. Balboni changed his sitting position, and his black leather pants creaked.He encourages them to emphasize the positive while reading with a critical and informed eye. "Well, it sounds like there are already thought-provoking descriptions in it." "I'm joking, Mr. Balboni. I'm trying not to anthropomorphize my writing." "I look forward to reading it," Mr Balboni said.

A week later, when Mr. Balboni announced that he was going to read a short story, everyone sat up a little.Those who are chosen will be excited, even if they will be criticized.It's also exciting to be criticized. "What do you think?" he asked the class after he finished reading. "Well," says Sarah Peep, "with all due respect, the dialogue is kinda bad. Like I understand the guy's intentions, why didn't the author write it more concisely?" Sarah Peep writes on her blog "Pace Leigh Unicorn Book Review, she always brags about the publisher sending her books for free. "And why the third person? Why the present tense? In my opinion, the work looks childish." Billy Lieberman — who writes about misunderstood boy protagonists who overcome supernatural and parental obstacles — said: "I just don't understand what the hell is supposed to happen at the end? It's confusing." "I think that's obscurity," Mr. Balboni said. "Remember we talked about obscurity last week?" Maggie Markakis — who took the class because of conflicting schedules between math and debate classes — said she liked it, but noticed inconsistencies in the story's money element. Abner Schotcher didn't like this one for several reasons: He didn't like stories where characters lied ("I'm really fed up with unreliable narrators" - a concept introduced to them two weeks ago) , and to make matters worse, he felt there was no plot at all.It didn't hurt Maya's feelings, because all of Abner's short stories ended with the same twist: everything was a dream. "Is there anything you like about this one?" said Mr. Balboni. "Grammar," said Sarah Peep. "I love how sad it is," says John Furness, with long brown eyelashes and a posy bob like a pop icon.He wrote a short story about his grandma's hand that even moved hard-hearted Sarah Peep to tears. "Me too," said Mr. Balboni, "as a reader, I'm struck by a lot of things you don't like. I like the slightly formal style and the obscurity in it. I don't agree with that about the 'unreliable narrator'. Comments - we may have to revisit this concept. I don't think the money factor is handled well either. Taken together, I think this one and John's "Grandma's Hand" are the best in our class this semester. Two short stories. These two will represent Alice Township Middle School in the county short story competition." Abner muttered unhappily, "You haven't said who wrote the other one." "Yes, of course. It's Maya. A round of applause for John and Maya." Maya tried not to look smug. "Great, huh? Mr. Balboni picked us both," John said after class.He followed Maya to her locker, and Maya couldn't figure out why. "Yeah," Maya said, "I like your short stories." She did like his short stories, but she really wanted to win.First place is a $150 Amazon gift certificate and a trophy. "What would you buy if you got first?" John asked. "Not books. My father will give me books." "You're lucky," John said, "I wish I lived in a bookstore." "I live above the bookstore, not inside, and it's not that great either." "I dare say it's pretty good." He pushed back the brown hair that covered his eyes. "My mom wants to know if you'd like to share a car with us to the awards ceremony." "But we only found out about it today." Maya said. "I know my mom. She always likes carpooling to split the cost. Ask your dad." "The thing is, my dad will want to go and he can't drive. So chances are my dad will ask my godmother or godfather to drive us. Plus your mom will want to go too. So I'm not sure carpooling will work ’” She felt like she had been talking for half an hour. He smiled at her, his back-swept hair undulating a little. "No problem. Maybe we can drive you somewhere else at another time." The award ceremony was held at a middle school in Hyannis.Even though it was a gymnasium (the smell of all kinds of balls can still be smelled), when the ceremony did not start, everyone spoke in a low voice, as if in a church.An important literary event is about to take place here. Forty entries from twenty secondary schools, only the top three will be read aloud.Maya practiced reading her short stories with John Furness.He advised her to take more breaths and slow down.She has been practicing breathing and reading aloud, which is not as easy as people think.She had also heard him read it.Her advice to him was to read in his normal voice.He'd been reading it in that slightly fake news voice. "You know what you like," he said.Now he talks to her in this fake voice all the time, it's annoying. Maya saw Mr. Balboni talking to someone who could only have been a teacher from another school.She was wearing her teacher's clothes—a floral skirt and a beige cardigan embroidered with snowflakes—and she nodded vigorously to whatever Mr. Balboniel said.Of course, Mr. Balboni was wearing his leather trousers, because he came out, and a leather jacket—in general, a leather outfit.Maya wants to take him to meet Dad because she wants AJ to hear Mr. Balboni compliment her.On balance, she didn't want AJ to embarrass her.At the bookstore last month, she had introduced AJ to her English teacher, Mrs. Smythe, and AJ had shoved a book into the teacher's hand, adding: "You'll love this novel, erotic The description is very delicate." Maya was so embarrassed that she died. AJ is wearing a tie, Maya is wearing jeans.She had been wearing a dress that Amelia had chosen for her, but she thought it would look like she cared too much.Amelia is in Providence this week and will come to meet them, though she will most likely be late.Maya knew that not wearing a dress would break her heart. Someone knocked on the podium with a baton.Teachers in snowflake cardigans welcome them to the Island County Middle School Short Story Contest.She praised all the entries for their variety and emotion.She said she loves her job and wants everyone to win an award.Then she announced the first entry to the finals. John Furness, of course, would be in the final round.Maya leaned back in her chair and listened.The story was even better than she had imagined.She likes the sentence about the grandma whose hands are like tissues.She looked to AJ to see his reaction to this.There was an indifference in his eyes, which Maya recognized as boredom. The second short is the work of Virginia Kim of Blackhart Middle School.It's about a kid who's adopted from China. AJ nodded several times.She could tell he liked this one better than "Grandma's Hand." Maya starts to worry that she won't be chosen at all.She was glad she was wearing jeans.She turned her head to see where she could get out the fastest.Amelia stood at the door of the auditorium, and she gave Maya two thumbs up. "Skirt, where's that skirt?" Amelia mouthed silently. Maya shrugged, turned her head and listened.Virginia Kim wore a black velvet dress with a Peter Pan collar.Her voice was very soft, sometimes not much louder than a whisper.As if she wanted everyone to have to lean forward to listen. Unfortunately, this one is endless and five times as long as "Grandma's Hand".After a while, Maya stopped listening.Maya thought it would take even less time to fly to China. If "A Day at the Beach" isn't in the top three, there will also be T-shirts and cookies at the reception.But who wants to stay until the reception if they don't get the ranking? If she gets a place, she won't be annoyed that she isn't number one. If John Furness gets number one, she'll try not to hate him. If Maya wins first place, maybe she will donate the gift certificate to a charity, such as for poor children or an orphanage. It doesn't matter if she doesn't get the ranking.She didn't write that short story to win a prize, or even to do her homework.If she just wanted to do her homework, she could write "The Blue Pit."Creative writing is graded nothing more than a pass and a fail. The third-place short story was announced, and Maya grabbed AJ's hand.