Free Flying the Dragon by Natalie Dias Lorenzi Page B

speak as well as the others. Or write. Or count, apparently. But what would it be like not to understand at all? And to not be able to say even the basic stuff?
    Skye thought of Hiroshi’s book that had fallen from his backpack the other day at the bus stop—
Tim Gets Dressed.
Ugh. Skye’s Japanese book was hard to read, but at least she had the same book as everyone else. Then again, she
was
in a class with mostly third graders. No, she decided Hiroshi’s situation was a million times worse. He needed to learn real English, and she would be the one to teach him.
    As Skye packed up her
o-bento
box and Kumamoto Sensei came back into the room, an idea began to grow inside of Skye. By the time she walked out the door at dismissal, she had a plan in place. A plan to help Hiroshi.

14
Hiroshi

    Hiroshi discovered the folded-up paper sticking out of his pencil box on Monday morning before the first bell. He scanned the room to see if anyone was watching him, but no one was.
    Hiroshi unfolded the paper and was surprised to see Japanese writing mixed with English:

    Hiroshi blinked.
Sucks
would definitely be useful. In fact, it was the perfect word to describe what was coming—Grandfather’s first treatment. Hiroshi glanced at the clock. In twenty-five hours and thirty-seven minutes, Grandfather would be waiting in the hospital, probably wearing one of those thin gowns, not knowing what was going to happen. Would he be scared? Hiroshi had never seen Grandfather scared.
    In twenty-five hours and thirty-six minutes, Hiroshi would be scared, sitting here in school, thinking of Grandfather.
Skye has it wrong—missing out on a soccer team doesn’t suck. Cancer is what totally sucks.
    The bell rang, and Skye took her seat. He glanced at her, smiling his thanks, and she nodded.
    Hiroshi made his way through the math worksheet, waiting for nine o’clock. But at 9:05 Mr. Jacobs still hadn’t come through the door to pick him up for ESL. Hiroshi double-checked his math. 9:10. Still no Mr. Jacobs.
    “Mrs. Garcia?” a voice filtered through a loudspeaker in the ceiling.
    “Yes?” Mrs. Garcia answered.
    “Mr. Jacobs will be late today. He’ll pick up his students when he arrives.”
    “Thank you, Ms. Baca.” Mrs. Garcia stopped by Hiroshi’s desk and leaned down. “Did you understand, Hiroshi? Mr. Jacobs will be here soon.” Hiroshi nodded. Mrs. Garcia glanced at the paper on his desk. “Do you have an ESL assignment to work on while you wait?”
    “Yes, Teacher.” Actually, Hiroshi had finished his assignments the night before, but he couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. There was no way he was going to pull out his first-grade books in front of everyone.
    Mrs. Garcia began the reading lesson for the rest of the class. Hiroshi tried to follow her words, but they all ran together. Then he had an idea. He flipped his ESL notebook over, turned it around, and opened to the last page. This would be a good place to write the new English word Skye had taught him. He began to copy her English tip into his notebook.
    “
Psssst!
“
    Hiroshi turned. Skye was looking at him out of the corner of her eye and shaking her head. Hiroshi shrugged.
What is she trying to tell me?
She looked back and forth from the paper to Hiroshi, eyes narrowed and shaking her head again, faster this time.
    “Hiroshi?” Mrs. Garcia called. Hiroshi jumped, and Skye’s eyes snapped back to the front of the room. “It’s time for ESL.” Mr. Jacobs stood in the doorway and waved. Hiroshi gathered his things and followed him to class.
    When everyone was seated in the ESL room, Mr. Jacobs turned to the group. “Sorry I was late today, everyone.” He picked up a whiteboard marker. “I ride my bike to school. How many of you ride bikes?” A few kids raised their hands. Mr. Jacobs drew a picture of a bicycle on the board. Hiroshi wished he rode his bike to school, like he had in Japan.
    “When I was on my bike, a truck passed me.” Mr. Jacobs drew