Tom
by Mai Nguyen
After watching The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, I started to imagine my siblings and me as the ultimate first-generation American superhero dreamteam. While as the youngest of four I’d always admired my siblings, I began to see each of us as kings and queens like those in Narnia. We are all unique; we each contribute a distinct persona to the family. Rather than archetypes, all of us are protagonists and have special skills. Hang—the fiery warrior for social rights and our philosophical leader. Sam— the tech wizard and comedian. Tom—the unpredictable joker card and unconventional genius. And me—the artistic brain and ace. In The Chronicles of Narnia, Edmund is the odd-one-out of the four Pevensie siblings. From the very beginning, he strikes you as the worst kind of pre-teen brat. He excels in being consistently annoying. He constantly bosses his endearing little sister Lucy around. He even betrays his siblings to the evil White Witch! (Granted, he was under the influence of the enchanted Turkish Delight. But still.) Edmund is the character you want to pin all of your frustrations on--that is, until, reminded of his love for his family, he breaks free of the White Witch’s spell and emerges from his journey victorious, a symbol of redemption and inherent goodness. Until—reminded of his love for his family, he breaks free of the White Witch’s spell and emerges from his journey victorious, a symbol of redemption and inherent goodness.
“He excels in being consistently annoying.” Tom is the “Edmund” in my family. We’re only one year apart, and our lives have been closely intertwined since birth, literally. We all know my sister was a natural birth. Sam was a C-section; the permanent scar below my mom’s belly is proof of that. But when it came to me and Tom, the answer to the question “Where did I come from?” was just a bunch of giggles and “the toilet.” Tom and I don’t have much in common, but we did both grow up thinking we were found in the toilet like a bunch of doo-doo. Thanks a lot, Mom. I’m not exactly sure if that made us feel closer to each other, but we shared some tangible things, too. Each summer, my mom distributed SummerBridge Math workbooks to Sam, Tom and me and had us erase the answers scribbled in by whoever used the books the year before, her savvy version of recycling. I always inherited Tom’s from the year before and was tasked with erasing his quasi-chicken scratches. From an early age, I learned to recognize Tom’s handwriting. I can barely remember what my own handwriting looked like, but I do recall Tom’s gnome-like scrawl. When we were toddlers, we would play “Cat and Owner”. Basically, I would crawl around and meow like a cat while Tom humored me, walking 10
