It was a beautiful autumn day in 1963. In a cozy New Jersey suburb, a 13-year-old, pink-skinned girl walked along the sidewalk towards a particular house with a contented smile on her face. She wore her brown hair in two long pigtails and a pair of thick-rimmed, rectangular glasses in front of her warm, brown eyes. She happily pranced up to the door and rang the bell.
A woman with pale yellow skin and almond-shaped, jade green eyes answered the door. Her striking white hair made her look older than her age while the shape of her face and the smoothness of her skin made her look far younger. Despite the simplicity of her hairstyle, it was so meticulously done that from a distance, the woman looked as if she was wearing several large pearls on her head. She wore a plain, light green qipao in contrast to the baby blue dress with pleated skirt her visitor was wearing.
“Ah, Birdie, nǐ láile!” the woman greeted, “Qǐng jìn! Qǐng jìn!”[1]
“Hi, Ms. Magnolia,” Birdie replied. “What are we making today?”
“Gēn wǒ lái. I show you.”[2]
Ms. Magnolia led Birdie into the dining room where a bowl of a raw ground meat mixture and a plate of raw dough balls sat in the middle of a small round table. Around the table, two boys about Birdie’s age sat next to each other with their gazes averted and deep scowls on their faces. The two of them were rolling the dough into discs with wooden dowels and filling the discs with the meat mixture. One boy had orange-tan skin with silver hair and grey eyes that were shaped similarly to Ms. Magnolia’s, which were visible behind a pair of glasses that were similar in style to Birdie’s.
“Érzi! Nǐ kàn,” Ms. Magnolia called out. The silver-haired boy looked up. “Birdie láile!”[3]
“Hi, Lionheart,” Birdie greeted.
“Hello,” Lionheart muttered, looking away from her awkwardly. As he did, his gaze landed on the other boy’s handiwork, causing him to scoff.
“You blockhead!” he berated his companion. “Weren’t you paying attention to how Māmā showed us how to do it? You’re doing yours wrong!”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” the other boy retorted, striking Lionheart with the dowel in his hand.
“Ow! Quit it!” Lionheart yelled back, hitting the boy with his own dowel.
“You started it!”
“No, you!”
“Āiyā! Tíng!” Ms. Magnolia cried out. The boys turned to her and immediately turned their eyes toward the table, avoiding the stern glare she was giving them. “What did I say er-li-er?”[4]
“No fighting,” both boys muttered simultaneously with their gazes still averted.
“Duìle! Now, you behave, or I wir keep you here ar day. Undersand?”[5]
“Yes, Māmā /ma’am.”
“Good,” Ms. Magnolia replied before turning her attention back to Birdie. “I am so sorry. These two, no shame, no shame.”
“It’s alright, really,” Birdie replied, forcing a smile before turning to the two boys and frowning thoughtfully.
“I guess this is their punishment for that fight they got into the other day,” she thought to herself as she watched the boys resume their work.
“So,” Birdie said to Lionheart, “what’s this?”
“Dumplings,” Lion replied sullenly, not even looking at her. “Māmā’s bringing them to the church potluck tomorrow.”
“Sounds yummy.”
“Sure, it does,” Lionheart muttered sarcastically.
“Birdie, nǐ kàn wǒ,” Ms. Magnolia called Birdie over to her, distracting her from Lionheart’s comment. As soon as she had Birdie’s attention, she proceeded to roll and stuff a dumpling using the same motions the boys had been using earlier, only much faster and far more skillfully.[6]
“Wow,” Birdie gasped, awed at Ms. Magnolia’s skill. She listened carefully as Ms. Magnolia began to verbally instruct her on how to perform each step. Ms. Magnolia’s accent made understanding her a little difficult, but Birdie’s patience and attentiveness significantly facilitated the process. Birdie performed each step under Ms. Magnolia’s watchful eye slowly yet carefully, eventually being rewarded with a well-made yet slightly lopsided dumpling.
“Hǎo jíle!” Ms. Magnolia praised, “Very good! You good sudent.”[7]
“Thank you,” Birdie replied. “All the other church ladies who are teaching me how to cook think so too.”
“Your bàba very lucky to have you for daughter,” Ms. Magnolia continued as the two of them and the boys continued making dumplings, causing Birdie’s smile to widen.
Birdie didn’t know how long the four of them had been working for, but after a while a cry was heard coming from a different part of the house.
“Māmā!” a small, feminine voice cried out. “Māmā!”
“Āiyā!” Ms. Magnolia exclaimed as she rushed into the kitchen to wash her hands. “Mèimei xǐngle!”[8]
She quickly left the kitchen and dining area, fussing under her breath. A few minutes later, she returned with a three-year-old girl in her arms. The little girl’s skin color was similar to Lionheart’s but more golden and her eyes were just like Ms. Magnolia’s in shape and color. She also had straight, blue black hair that was styled in a way that reminded Birdie of mouse ears.
“Érzi,” Ms. Magnolia called to her son, “buh-ring me Mèimei’s chair.”
Lionheart did as he was requested, pushing a metal and plastic high chair towards the table.
Ms. Magnolia gently set her daughter on the chair, cooing at her playfully.
“Māmā, wǒ èle!” the little girl demanded, rubbing her stomach pitifully. Even though Birdie had never learned a word of Chinese in her life, she could tell by the cranky tone in her voice and her body language that the girl was hungry. Ms. Magnolia went into the kitchen and returned with a box of saltines, confirming Birdie’s inference.[9]
“Bùyào!” the girl screamed, pushing away the cracker that her mother offered her. “I want cookie!”[10]
“Āiyā! No!” Ms. Magnolia retorted. “Tài tiánle! Too sweet!”[11]
“I want cookie!”
Ms. Magnolia humphed and turned towards her son, requesting, “Érzi, can you get me, um, āiyā, how you say in Inguhlish? Uh, píngguǒ.”[12]
“You mean an apple?” Lionheart asked for clarification.
“Duì! That is it. Apper.” How his mother mispronounced that word made Lionheart want to hit himself, but he resisted for her sake while the other boy snickered under his breath. “Can you get me apper and sahmall knife, please?”
Lionheart slowly exhaled through is teeth and fetched his mother an apple and a small knife from the kitchen.
Ms. Magnolia turned her attention back towards her daughter and said to her, “Apper sweet too. Māmā cut for you, hǎo ba?”[13]
The little girl pouted a little before reluctantly agreeing, “Okay.”
While Ms. Magnolia began peeling and cutting the apple for her daughter, the three teenagers continued folding and stuffing dumplings.
“Your mother couldn’t have given your sister a normal name,” the other boy muttered to Lionheart, too softly for Ms. Magnolia to hear.
Lionheart growled before arguing, “First of all, her name isn’t Mèimei. It’s Tiger Orchid. Māmā just calls her that because it means ‘little sister,’ and she’s my little sister. Second of all, only Māmā, Dad, and I get to call her Mèimei; you don’t. Idiot.”
The boy responded by kicking Lionheart hard on the shin under the table.
“Ow!” Lion exclaimed before pulling his fist back to throw a punch. “Why you—!”
“Eh!” Ms. Magnolia cut in. “What did I say about fighting?! One more time, and you are washing dishes.”
“Gēgē bad!” Tiger Orchid agreed, giggling naughtily.[14]
“No!” Ms. Magnolia scolded her daughter as she continued to hand the little girl apple slices. “Oh-ly Māmā and Bàba can say when Gēgē is being bad. Māmā is Māmā . You are Mèimei. Okay?”
Tiger Orchid didn’t say anything but simply continued to stuff her face with apple slices.
As Birdie watched Ms. Magnolia feed Tiger Orchid apple slices, she couldn’t help but smile, finding the whole scene adorable. That smile slowly faded as an unhappy thought formed on her head.
“Gee, I wonder if my mother ever did anything like that for me before she left,” Birdie thought to herself. Without even thinking, she said to Ms. Magnolia, “I wish I had a mother like you.”
That sentence caused everyone at the table except Tiger Orchid, who was still munching away at her apple slices, to turn to her with surprise on their faces. For Lionheart, that surprise slowly morphed into guilt while the other boy simply turned away in indifference.
Ms. Magnolia looked into Birdie’s eyes, surprised concern giving way to pure maternal compassion.
“You good daughter,” she said to Birdie plainly. “Your māmā did not know what she had.”
Late spring in 2016, a black sports car with a shield and lightning bolt decaled on the hood pulled in front of a small house and parked next to the mailbox. At the car’s driver’s seat sat a 16-year-old boy with yellow-orange skin, blue eyes, and spiked blue hair. His 13-year-old younger brother, who looked similar too him in appearance, sat next to him in the front passenger’s seat.
“Here it is, Little Bro,” the older boy said as he stepped out of the car and looked over the house nostalgically. “This place sure brings back memories, doesn’t it?”
“It sure does,” the younger one replied with a smile before his face twisted in disgust. “I just hope the tenants didn’t do anything to our old treehouse.”
“I’m sure it’s fine. Besides, that treehouse was built for kids. We wouldn’t even be able to fit inside of it anymore.”
The older boy led the way as the two of them walked up to the front door and rang the bell. A middle-aged woman with chestnut, bobbed hair, reddish skin, and dark brown, almost black, eyes answered the door.
“Oh, hello, Flash,” she greeted, addressing the older boy, “and hello to you, First Base. I haven’t seen you two since we first moved in here. Your aunt usually comes to pick up the rent.”
“Hi, Mrs. Jujube,” Flash replied. “We’re not here for the rent. I have a family history project for my speech class, and I need to look through the attic for anything that I can use for my project.”
“Oh, yes, your grandmother called about that yesterday. Do you need me to show you to the attic, or do you know where it is?”
“I think I still remember where it is. I should have no problem finding it.”
“Is our old treehouse still in the backyard?” First Base interrupted.
“Bro,” Flash scolded.
Mrs. Jujube bit her lip uncomfortably before answering, “It is, but you probably won’t recognize it. My daughter and her friends might have, err, altered it a little.”
First Base’s eyes widened, and he worriedly ran past Mrs. Jujube through the house. Before Flash even had time to apologize for his brother’s rudeness, a loud, long, earth-shattering scream erupted from the backyard.
First Base ran back to the front of the house and cried out, “It. Is. PINK! Our treehouse is pink! And covered in glitter! And whatever you call those plastic gemstone-looking things with the sticker on the back!”
“You mean rhinestone stickers?” Mrs. Jujube clarified.
“Yes!”
Flash could only stare back at his younger brother incredulously before turning to Mrs. Jujube and asking, “I just realized that I haven’t been here in a while. Could you point me to the general direction of the attic?”
Flash and First Base made their way to the attic of their grandparents’ old house. Using the light from his phone to help him see better, Flash groped around for the light switch and turned on the lights. All around him, he could see stacks of cardboard and plastic boxes, wooden chests, and old furniture.
“Whoa!” First Base exclaimed. “This is a lot of stuff. Where are we even supposed to start looking?”
“Anywhere, I guess,” Flash replied, opening the first box to find several books of piano sheet music. He picked it up and set it aside, getting ready to examine the next box. First Base was about to follow suit when he noticed something peculiar about some of the writing on the boxes.
“Hey, Big Bro,” Base called. “Didn’t Grandma say that Grandpa’s mom was from China before we came here?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Some of these boxes have stuff written on them that aren’t English,” Base pointed out. “Why don’t we start looking there?”
“Oh,” Flash said, awed and slightly embarrassed. “Great idea.”
Flash looked through the boxes labeled with Chinese characters and found one that was also labeled with the word “photographs” in English. He opened and found a framed, black and white photo of a family of four. Underneath it were other framed photographs and a few photo albums. Flash took a passing glance at the topmost photo before suddenly doing a double take.
“No way,” he gasped, picking up the photo and staring at it, particularly at the boy in the photo.
“What is it, Big Bro?” Base asked, turning away from the boxes that he had been looking through.
“Look.” Flash passed the photograph to his younger brother. First Base took the photo from Flash, and his jaw dropped when he saw the boy in the photo. He looked from the photograph to Flash and back again.
“Holy crud!” Base cried. “The kid in this photo looks just like you!”
“Yeah, if I wore glasses and had my hair cut shorter and slicked back,” Flash agreed.
“Wait. If the kid in this photo is who I think it is, then,” Base began before looking at the adults in the picture, “that means these two are our great-grandparents.”
“Yeah.”
“Dang! Great-grandma looks amazingly good for a middle-aged lady. Now, we know where Mom and Aunt Flare get it from,” Base exclaimed. Flash rolled his eyes and snatched the photo back from his younger brother.
“Looks like we found what we needed,” Flash pointed out, about to return the photograph to its box. Before he did, however, he found himself staring at the boy’s face again. He touched his own face with his right hand, hardly believing that he and that boy from the past could look so similar.
“What were you like back then?” Flash thought to himself as he stared, eventually forcing himself to return the photo and close the box. He picked up the box and set it aside before continuing to look through the other boxes.
“Hey, Big Bro,” Base called out, motioning for his brother to come over. He seemed to be in the middle of looking through a medium-sized mahogany chest. “Look what I found.”
Flash went over and looked inside the chest. The chest was filled with nothing but qipaos. Most of them were plain cotton in varying shades of green, but two of them were made of shiny, red fabric with gold embroidery on the left shoulder.
First Base reached over to pick one up, but Flash stopped him before he could.
“What are you doing?” Flash scolded, grabbing Base’s hand mid-reach.
“What? I’m just trying to get a better look,” Base retorted.
“Bro, we don’t know how old these are. If we’re not careful, we could end up damaging them.”
First Base rolled his eyes but withdrew his hand all the same.
“So, what are we going to do with them?” Base asked, looking over their great-grandmother's clothes one more time. “I mean, I don’t know anything about women’s clothing, but even I can tell that these look way too nice to be thrown away.”
“Let’s take them home with us. Maybe Mom, Grandma, or Aunt Flare would know what to do,” Flash replied, closing the chest and moving it next to the box he had set aside earlier. “I might even call up my friend Rarity for suggestions if none of us can think of anything.”
“Boys!” Mrs. Jujube called up from the bottom of the ladder leading to the attic. “I know you’re both busy, but I set out some snacks on the dining room table if you need a break.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Jujube,” both boys called back.