I told her about.
I almost scream
because the doll
with long black hair
is so beautiful.
But I whisper,
Thank you.
My high emotions
are squished beneath
the embarrassment
of not having a gift
for her.
December 25
What If
Brother Quang asks
what if
Father escaped to Cambodia
and is building an army
to go back and change history?
Vu Lee asks
what if
Father escaped to France
but can’t remember his own history,
so he builds a new family
and is happy?
Brother Khôi asks
what if
Father escaped to Tibet
after shaving his head
and joining a monastery?
I can’t think of anything
but can’t let my brothers best me,
so I blurt out,
What if
Father is really gone?
From the sad look
on their faces
I know
despite their brave guesses
they have begun to accept
what I said on a whim.
December 29
A Sign
Mother says nothing
about Father
but
she chants every night,
long chants
where her voice
wavers between
hope and acceptance.
She’s waiting
for a sign.
I’ll decide
what she decides.
December 30
No More
First day back
after Christmas break,
I know I’m supposed
to wear everything new.
I don’t have
anything new
except for the coat,
and a hand-me-down dress
still wrapped in plastic.
It’s beige with blue flowers
made from a fabric fuzzy and thick,
perfect for this cold day.
Best of all
it’s past my knees,
perfect for a cold bike ride.
Pem is wearing a new skirt
falling to her calves, as always.
SSsì-Ti-Vân’s new white shirt
looks stiff as a wall.
As soon as I remove my coat,
everyone stops talking.
A girl in red velvet
comes over to me.
Don’t ya know flannel
is for nightgowns and sheets?
I panic.
Pem shrugs.
I can’t wear pants
or cut my hair
or wear skirts above my calves;
what do I care what you wear?
SSsì-Ti-Vân says,
It looks like a dress to me.
The red-velvet girl
points to the middle
of my chest.
See this flower?
They only put that
on nightgowns.
I look down
at the tiny blue flower
barely stitched on.
I rip it off.
Nightgown no more.
January 5
Seeds
I wear the same dress
to sleep,
telling Mother why.
I pretended not to care,
then no one cared,
so I really didn’t care.
Mother laughs.
I tell her
a much worse embarrassment
is not having
a gift for Pem.
Mother nods, thinks,
goes to her top drawer.
I was saving this for you
for Tt,
but why wait?
In her palm lies
the tin of flower seeds
I had gathered with TiTi.
Perfect for Pem!
Mother always
thinks of everything.
January 5
Night
Gone
Mother runs in after work,
hands clenched into white balls,
words chopped into grunts,
face of ash.
We stare at her left hand.
The amethyst stone is gone!
Brother Quang drives us back
to the sewing factory
in his car made of mismatched parts.
We search where Mother sat,
then retrace her steps
to the cafeteria
to the bathroom
to the parking lot.
We repeat so often we lose count,
propelled by Mother’s
wild eyes and
pressed mouth,
frightened of what
her expression would be
if…
At dusk,
the guards shoo us out.
We’re afraid to look at Mother.
January 14
Truly Gone
When home,
Mother
retreats to our room,
misses dinner,
remains soundless.
At bedtime
we hear
the gong,
then chanting.
The chant is long,
the voice
low and sure.
Finally
she appears,
looks at each of us.
Your father is
truly gone.
January 14
Late
Eternal Peace
Mother wears
her brown áo dài
brought from home.
Each of my brothers
wears a suit,
too small or too big.
I wear a pink dress
of ruffles and lace,
which I hate,
but at least
it’s definitely a dress.
Each of us faces the altar,
holding a lit incense stick
between palms in prayer.
Father’s portrait
stares back.
This is as old
as we’ll ever know him.
That thought
turns my eyes
red.
Mother says,
We’ll chant
for Father’s safe passage
toward eternal peace,
where his parents await him.
She pauses,
voice choked.
Father won’t leave
if we hold on to him.
If you feel like crying,
at least now
we know.
At least
we no longer live
in waiting.
January 17
Start Over
I’m trying to tell
MiSSSisss WaSShington
about our ceremony for Father.
But it takes time to
match every noun and verb,
sort all the tenses,
remember all the articles,
set the tone for every s.
MiSSSisss WaSShington says
if every learner waits
to speak perfectly,
no one would learn
a new language.
Being stubborn
won’t make you fluent.
Practicing will!
The more mistakes you make,
the more you’ll learn not to.
They laugh.
Shame on them!
Challenge them to say
something in Vietnamese
and laugh right back.
I tell her
Father is at p
eace.
I tell her
I’d like to plant
flowers from
Vietnam
in her backyard.
I tell her
Tt is coming
and luck starts over
every new year.
January 19
An Engineer, a Chef, a Vet, and Not a Lawyer
Brother Quang
has started night school
to restudy engineering
to become what
he was meant to be.
Mother smiles.
Vu Lee
refuses to apply to a real college,
instead will go to a cooking school
in San-fran-cis-co,
where his idol once walked.
Mother sighs,
twists her brows
to no effect.
Brother Khôi
announces he will become a doctor
of animals.
Mother starts to say something,
then nods.
Mother has always wanted
an engineer, a real doctor, a poet,
and a lawyer.
She turns to me.
You love to argue, right?
No I don’t.
She brightens.
I vow to become
much more agreeable.
January 29
1976: Year of the Dragon
This Tt
there’s no I Ching Teller of Fate,
so Mother predicts our year.
Our lives
will twist and twist,
intermingling the old and the new
until it doesn’t matter
which is which.
This Tt
there’s no bánh chng
in the shape of a square,
made of pork,
glutinous rice,
and mung beans,
wrapped in banana leaves.
Mother makes her own
in the shape of a log,
made of pork,
regular rice,
and black beans,
wrapped in cloth.
Not the same,
but not bad.
As with every Tt
we are expected to
smile until it hurts
all three first days
of the year,
especially underneath,
not sweep,
not splash water,
not talk back,
not pout.
Mother thinks of everything.
She even asked Brother Quang
to bless the house
right after midnight,
so I couldn’t beat him to it
by touching my big toe
to the carpet before dawn.
Mother has set up
an altar
on the highest bookshelf.
The same, forever-young
portrait of Father.
I have to look away.
We each hold an incense stick
and wait for the gong.
I pray for
Father to find warmth in his new home,
Mother to keep smiling more,
Brother Quang to enjoy his studies,
Vu Lee to drive me from and to school,
Brother Khôi to hatch an American chick.
I open my eyes.
The others are still praying.
What could they be asking for?
I think and think
then close my eyes again.
This year I hope
I truly learn
to fly-kick,
not to kick anyone
so much as
to fly.
January 31
Tt
Author’s Note
Dear Reader:
Much of what happened to Hà, the main character in Inside Out & Back Again, also happened to me.
At age ten, I, too, witnessed the end of the Vietnam War and fled to Alabama with my family. I, too, had a father who was missing in action. I also had to learn English and even had my arm hair pulled the first day of school. The fourth graders wanted to make sure I was real, not an image they had seen on TV. So many details in this story were inspired by my own memories.
Aside from remembering facts, I worked hard to capture Hà’s emotional life. What was it like to live where bombs exploded every night yet where sweet snacks popped up at every corner? What was it like to sit on a ship heading toward hope? What was it like to go from knowing you’re smart to feeling dumb all the time?
The emotional aspect is important because of something I noticed in my nieces and nephews. They may know in general where their parents came from, but they can’t really imagine the noises and smells of Vietnam, the daily challenges of starting over in a strange land. I extend this idea to all: How much do we know about those around us?
I hope you enjoy reading about Hà as much as I have enjoyed remembering the pivotal year in my life. I also hope after you finish this book that you sit close to someone you love and implore that person to tell and tell and tell their story.
Thanhha Lai
Acknowledgments
Much thanks to Angie Wojak, Joe Hosking, Sarah Sevier, Tara Weikum, Rosemary Stimola, and of course my family (M, Ch Mai, Anh Anh, Anh Tun, Anh Nam, Anh Zng, Anh Tin, Anh Sn, Ch Hng), with whom I shared April 30, 1975, and weeks on a ship, events that decades later led me to Henri and An.
About the Author
THANHHA LAI was born in Vietnam and moved to Alabama at the end of the war. She lives in New York City with her family.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
Credits
Jacket art © 2011 by Zdenko Baši and Manuel Šumberac
Jacket design by Ray Shappell
Copyright
INSIDE OUT & BACK AGAIN. Copyright © 2011 by Thanhha Lai. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Lai, Thanhha.
Inside out and back again / Thanhha Lai.—1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: Through a series of poems, a young girl chronicles the life-changing year of 1975, when she, her mother, and her brothers leave Vietnam and resettle in Alabama.
ISBN 978-0-06-196278-3
[1. Novels in verse. 2. Vietnamese Americans—Fiction. 3. Emigration and immigration—Fiction. 4. Immigrants—Fiction. 5. Vietnam—History—1971–1980—Fiction. 6. Alabama—History—1951—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.5.L35In 2011 2010007855
[Fic]—dc22 CIP
AC
FIRST EDITION
EPub Edition © January 2011 ISBN: 978-0-06-206972-6
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
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