The matte pink CD played a tune that danced through my room, bouncing off the bumpy pastel yellow walls and following me diagonally from my desk to my bookshelf. That afternoon, I had the impulsive urge to pull off everything that decorated my bookshelf and refill it to my more present tastes. Despite my resolve to replace the old with the new, I still couldn’t help sitting on the seat-slash-storage box with all my childhood stuffed friends and reading a few pages from each book I removed from the shelf. It seemed inevitable for those books to return to their seemingly long-term residence. 

• A LITTLE PRINCESS BY FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT

• HEIDI BY JOHANNA SPYRI

• LITTLE WOMEN BY LOUISA MAY ALCOTT

• ANNE OF GREEN GABLES BY LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

• TO ALL THE BOYS I’VE LOVED BEFORE BY JENNY HAN

• THE YOUNG ELITES BY MARIES LU

• FIVE FEET APART BY MIKKI DAUGHTRY, RACHAEL LIPPINCOTT, AND TOBIAS LACONIS

• THE FAULT IN OUR STARS BY JOHN GREEN

    The classics naturally had to stand next to each other since I had begged and begged my ba to buy the Puffin in Bloom box set editions at Costco even though I already owned a copy of Little Women and A Little Princess. From there forward, the rest of the books filled the second shelf down, organized by the number of books within a series, the date I read them in chronological order and if needed, also by size in ascending order.

    For a moment, I looked around my room in a daze from the corner I was sitting in as I often found myself doing when I hit an exhaustion block. Something about my view made me squirm internally while the music shifted awkwardly to the next song that was much stronger in tone and beat than the last.

    White floral patterned blue curtains blocked the entry of sunlight for my mostly pink, white and gray stuffed animals and decorative pillows to lay peacefully in a neat pile on my bed without worry of being burnt. The odd variety of colors on my black desk contrasted the somewhat complimenting color palette in the area beside it. In particular, the bright orange from an Elmer’s glue stick, a pair of compasses and a gifted phone cord seemed to glare at me from afar. 

    I couldn’t shake the crawling feeling and stood up quickly in hopes that the ants would fall off on their own. I heaved up my latest reads and laid them out on my white and gray blanket to distract myself with the topmost shelf. 

• THE SHIP WE BUILT BY LEXIE BEAN

• GIRL IN PIECES BY KATHLEEN GLASGOW

    “You are redoing things again?” Ba leaned against the doorframe, moving his head around as if he hadn’t memorized the room from that doorway since before I was born. 

    “Yeah.”

    “I see.”

    Ba wouldn’t ask it aloud, but I could hear it seeping out just enough for only me to hear above the rumbling of the song. Why do you enjoy owning these books?

    What really came out of his mouth was, “Ăn gì chưa? Mẹ made noodles for you.”

    There was in fact a soft waft of warm broth with a hint of acidity from boiled tomatoes and shock of black pepper from shrimp paste that had traveled a long distance into my room. 

    “Dạ, con biết rồi. She made bún riêu for me.”

    “Wow, you can smell from here?”

    “Yup.”

    Ba was silent for a minute and I wondered if the way I walked on the fake wooden floors to my bookshelf was too loud. It felt like even my relatives in Vietnam could hear the way the floors creaked and squawked as an objection to the emptiness that managed to fill the room.

• THE SHIP WE BUILT BY LEXIE BEAN

• GIRL IN PIECES BY KATHLEEN GLASGOW

• BEFORE WE WERE YOURS BY LISA WINGATE

• sMALL GREAT THINGS BY JODI PICOULT

    “You definitely don’t get this from me,” Ba chuckled. “I don’t keep books like these. I don’t think I can finish them.”

    “Yeah, it’s all about Taekwondo for you, right?” I joke. 

    “No, I- Ba can’t read books like these. I don’t have time.” 

    The door frame squeaked against his weight as he moved to lean on the other side, standing on cold white marble flooring with no socks on. I didn’t bother asking about it. Ba wears basketball shorts to go out even during the winter. 

    “Ba came here when I was around 15. I didn’t have time to play so ah- con biết Ba had to work a lot. Learn English and study in English at the same time. I only go to the Huntington Beach Library to read textbooks.” 

    I only nodded at him to continue while I took another break and sank into the far corner with my stuffed animals and pillows. 

    “What I want to say is that it’s good to read. It’s good that you read.”

    I could hear Ba’s feet cracking synchronizing with the floor’s creaking as he came over to sit on the side of my bed. Ba smelled like he just ate bún riêu.

   “I will buy whatever books you want as long as you keep reading. You can learn anything and become anything, but to do that, you have to keep reading.”

   “Sounds good to me, Ba.” A small straight line quirked my lips. By no definition was it a smile, but we both knew it was because he gave me an identical one in return.

    Just when he got up to leave, Ba turned back. “Ah, I forgot. I wanted to ask if you wanted a Taekwondo textbook.” 

    “Ba, are you getting old? You know it’s your daughter here and not your son, right?”

    He let out a laugh and jokingly rushed to attack me with a flurry of punches. “Yes, I know. I want to give them to you because Tyler won’t read it. He doesn’t have patience.”

    I held his wrists and nodded. “You know your son very well.”

    “So con có muốn sách hay không?”

    Ba let me shake his hands around mindlessly while I made my decision.

    “Yeah, sure, why not?”

    Ba gives me that smile again. “I’ll bring it over.”

• THE SHIP WE BUILT BY LEXIE BEAN

• GIRL IN PIECES BY KATHLEEN GLASGOW

• BEFORE WE WERE YOURS BY LISA WINGATE

• SMALL GREAT THINGS BY JODI PICOULT

• THE WAY OF TRADITIONAL TAEKWONDO: ORANGE BELT

    The orange strips on the book stood out boldly against the other spines but didn’t seem to argue against its black, pink, yellow and white neighbors. With bits of orange on opposite sides of my bedroom, it didn’t seem to be glaring at me anymore.