Being Native A hand suddenly pulled me away from my locker and out of my trance. Looking forward, I saw Willa’s ponytail swaying back and forth as she pulled me through the glass doors, ignoring our teacher’s shouts of warnings. My backpack bounced up and down on my shoulders, threatening to tip me over given the absurd number of books I managed to stuff in it. Sunlight flooded my vision as we ran across the playground, towards where our parents awaited. Panting, Willa dragged me towards a woman that looked exactly like her. I had never understood how Willa was so tall, but looking at her mom, I was even more in awe. My neck strained, not used to looking at anyone so tall. She held her hand out to me friendlily, “You must be Kelsey, I heard a lot about you from Willa!”. My brain stopped, what should I address her as? In China, we referred to elder women of close friends and relations as Auntie. But she wouldn’t be comfortable being called that seeing as she isn’t Chinese. Suddenly, the gears in my brain began to grind again, coming up with an idea. Didn’t Harry address Ron’s mom in the book as Ms. Weasley? What’s Willa’s last name? How exactly do you pronounce Garschagen? In my panicked state, I had let out a jumble of incoherent words, trying desperately to remember the pronunciation for Garschagen before finally letting out a “Hello Ms. G.!” that was followed by a slight bow of my head. A sigh of relief was followed by her warm smile. I would really have to search up how to pronounce Garschagen later.
Mrs. Garschagen smiled and told me softly, “I think we’ve known 33
