Made of Magic

My first name is Sarah. In Hebrew, it means “princess.” I am definitely not a princess. My mom, Me, and my dad, Ba, both call me their little princess, but I'm too messy to be a princess. They're the girls in fairy tales who are always unhappy because of their evil step-moms and are rescued by a handsome prince who takes her away to happily ever after. I'm a rude person. I like to yell and make people mad.

Sarah is a boring name. When Americans say it, they have to make that funny sound that sounds like an angry bumblebee and that funny face that the older boys have when they tease me. It falls out of your mouth like a crate of oranges out of a farmer's truck. Like a pizza boy's delivery as he bikes across town on Super Bowl Sunday. When Me says it, the name slides out like a snake. It's a long drawn out hiss, teasing you to come closer so it can bite you with venom. That's what it sounds like when Me says it.

I have another first name too, but it's second to Sarah. It's Vietnamese, like my mom and my dad. It's Nam Giao, with funny markings. That's where Ba was born, on the other side of the Earth, where girls with long and pretty black hair ride bikes to school in their long, white dresses and their hats that the workers in the rice paddies wear. In the little town of Nam Giao, where Ba was born and where the Americans fought to help my mom and my dad stay free, where the girls laugh in their white dresses. Me made one of the dresses for me, but I didn't wear it because it made me feel different at school.

People at school don't always call me Sarah or Nam Giao. At tennis, people called me Kimmi because I didn't want to be another Sarah. They were nice to me, but they also got annoyed at the other Sarah for calling me by my real name. The boy in my theater class and the girl who sits next to me in English call me Ducky because that's my favorite animal. Little fluffy balls of yellow feathers and quacks, little balls of sunlight and happiness. Some people say I'm Made of Magic, since I do really well at a lot of things I try. They say I have too many hobbies and I'm always too good at it. That's why I'm Made of Magic.

I'm not a mean bumblebee or a scary snake like Sarah sounds like. I'm not Nam Giao or a girl that wears tight dresses to school on a hot day. I'm not Kimmi. Kimmi is someone hiding from herself. I'm not hiding at all because I just don't know who I am. I'm not Ducky, the bouncy puff ball. I get sad too, like when I had to leave my duck in Vietnam. I don't think I'm Made of Magic either. I can't sing like the other girls do and I can't run far like the other boys do. I'm not any of those people. I'm better than those people.

I'm Someone. Yes. Someone sounds nice.

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VietPryde- Hello there! I have returned! This was my English assignment last month, and I thought I should share it. It's written in the style of Sandra Cisneros (author of The House on Mango Street). You'll notice that quotation marks are missing, but that's on purpose. These are chronicles and little blurbs about my life and things that I think about. I may continue this series, just for the sake of venting out.

Now for the sad news: As you all have noticed, I haven't written much for the Everton Academy series or for the Soul of a Soldier series. I've really lost inspiration for those. If anyone has any ideas for what to happen, you can tell me.