Zen and the Art of Faking It by Jordan Sonnenblick

Author:Jordan Sonnenblick
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: United States, Asian Americans, Young adult fiction, Middle schools, Zen Buddhism, Pennsylvania, School & Education, Social Issues, Adolescence, General, New Experience, Other, Schools, People & Places, Fiction, Religious, Juvenile Fiction, Identity, Identity (Psychology)
ISBN: 9780439837095
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2010-01-01T19:09:30.911416+00:00

second helping

On the way to the soup kitchen the next day, Woody was practically bouncing out of her boots. “San, that was so cool! Did you see the look on Peter’s face when you beat him with your back turned? Oh, that was awesome! You just take everything so calmly. Even when everyone was running up to you and giving high-fives, you were so relaxed about it. And, you know, today all these guys from the basketball B team asked me if you and I could give them free-throw lessons.”

“I hope you said no.”

“Wellllll…”

I stared.

“…I said maybe.”

I stared some more.

“I told them that we were really busy with our charitable work and all, but that we’d let them know if anything changed. But don’t you get it? Our project is a total success. You’re, like, famous! A seventh grade girl asked me today if I could get her your autograph!”

“What was her name?” I asked, before I could think about it.

“I don’t know—Katie something, maybe. Anyway, you don’t have any earthly attachments, remember?”

“I was just wondering what her name was. Names are important.”

She was looking serious all of a sudden. “By the way, San, before we get to the soup kitchen, I wanted to tell you about the whole name thing: My parents named me Emily—Emily Jane Long—after my mother’s mother. But when my mom left, I decided I didn’t want to be named after somebody from her side of the family. Plus I didn’t feel like the same person anymore, so I just…decided to be somebody else.”

She bit her lip. “You probably think that’s totally stupid, right?”

I could have told her right then. It was an amazing moment: Woody was like me. We were both inventing ourselves from scratch because of our screwed-up parents. I could reveal my secrets to her and she’d understand. I could open my soul to her, and she would embrace me. We could join hands and frolic together through fields of daisies. It would be us against the world. Bonnie and Clyde. Caesar and Cleopatra. Madonna and, uh, everybody.

But I hesitated. I thought about it too long. What would happen with our project if Woody found out I was a fake? The grade was really important to her and so was honesty. Yikes, honesty. She wasn’t going to want to frolic in the daisies with the son of a convicted con man. And what about ELL?

She was waiting for me to say something, to tell her she wasn’t stupid. “You’re not stupid,” I said. “You’re just stuck in this demented culture that says a person can’t change who she is inside. So if you don’t like who you were yesterday, you’re—I don’t know—stuck with yourself. But your way was the Zen way.”

She chewed on that one for a while, and then asked, “How is that the Zen way?”

“A great Japanese thinker said, ‘Concentrate on and consecrate yourself completely to each day, as though a fire were raging through your hair.’”

“Meaning?”

“All that matters right now is what you do right now.

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