Ain't It Funny - Hardcover

Gurevich, Margaret

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0593659430 ISBN 13: 9780593659434

Verlag: Penguin Workshop, 2024

Inhaltsangabe

For fans of Stand Up, Yumi Chung! and The Miscalculations of Lightning Girl comes an honest and heartfelt novel about a girl who's determined not to let her growing anxiety and OCD hold her back from using stand-up comedy to bring her parents back together.

Eleven-year-old Maya’s life is bit of a mess. Her dad just moved out to pursue his stand-up comedy dreams, her mom seems more preoccupied with running the family’s Russian deli than getting Dad back, and Maya’s anxiety and germ worries have only been heightening. Her grandma always tells her “slozi goryu ne pomozhet”—tears won’t help sorrow—but right now it’s hard to be strong.

So when her teacher Ms. Banta announces the sixth-grade talent show, Maya sees an opportunity. If she can perform stand-up comedy in the show, she can prove to her mom and dad that comedy has a place in all their lives and try to bring them together again. But conquering her fears amidst her family falling apart and a growing hot-hot-hot feeling inside is easier said than done . . .

In this authentic novel full of both humor and heartbreak, Margaret Gurevich crafts a story about comedy, fractured family, and learning how strength comes in many forms.

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Margaret Gurevich (she/her) is a middle-school teacher and the author of Who Was? books as well as the award-winning Chloe by Design series. She has dabbled in stand-up comedy and, like Maya, sometimes crafts jokes in her head while doing errands. She also has many great memories of cooking Russian food with her grandmother. When not writing or teaching, Margaret enjoys hiking, bingeing too many shows, and spending time with her family. She lives in New Jersey with her husband, son, and their wise cat, Goosie.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Chapter 1

When people leave you, it’s supposed to pour.

But the unusually hot November sun has other plans.

“Well,” Dad says as he puts the last moving box into his trunk, “that’s that.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and forces a smile.

“That’s that,” I repeat, like it means something. Like he’s just going away to perform in a comedy festival as he’s done on other weekends. But that’s not it at all. The next time he’s here, it will be to pick me up. Not to come home.

“Sooo.” He rocks back and forth on his heels. “I’ll see you next weekend.” He takes his hands out of his pockets and pulls me to him.

His breath catches as he hugs me tight, making the lump in my throat even bigger. My eyes water, and tears mingle with the dampness of his shirt. I pull away because I know Babushka is looking through the window, and she wouldn’t approve.

Slozi goryu ne pomozhet, she always says. Tears won’t help sorrow.

“It will be okay,” I say. “We’ll get through this.” I’ve heard him and Mama say this, but the words sound wrong on my lips. Still, Dad nods, eyes distant.

He kisses the top of my hair. “Are you sure you’re only in sixth grade?”

Babushka knocks on the window, and Dad gives me one last hug and jogs to his car.

I wait until the words #1COMIC are only dots on his New Jersey license plate before running inside. Until I’m certain my eyes are dry, and my lips don’t tremble.

“The Russian Gourmet opens in half an hour,” Babushka says as soon as I walk into our store’s kitchen.

I know she and my dad didn’t really get along, but I can’t believe she’s acting like this is a regular day.

At least Mama will be in my corner. There’s no way she’s up to working.

“Mama?” I say as she places sliced carrots on top of the gefilte fish.

She straightens her sagging shoulders. “Your grandma’s right. The deli can’t run itself.”

“But—”

Babushka positions herself between Mama and me and drapes a hefty arm around each of our shoulders.

Mama’s eyes are glassy, and she bites her lip.

“Let me tell you both something about the women in our family. We’re strong. We can get through anything. Your great-?grandma used to say,” she pauses, kisses her fingertips, and raises them to the ceiling, “?‘Slozi goryu—’?”

“?‘Ne pomozhet,’?” I finish.

“That’s right,” she says, pulling me into her soft middle. Mama straightens her shoulders and adds fresh dill to the fish.

I blink back fresh tears.

“I guess I’ll go shower,” I say. My clothes feel extra sticky.

“Good girl,” Babushka says. She glances at Mama. “Sarah, why don’t you take a few minutes, too?”

Mama hugs me, and we trudge up the stairs that connect our two lives. Thunder rumbles in the distance. A few gray clouds try to sneak past the sun, but it pushes them away.

“Nice try,” I whisper, but slozi goryu ne pomozhet.

***

Freshly showered, I inhale the smell of marinated pickles and fried onions as I place the brown cardboard box beside the magazine display in our store.

The magazine, Otvet—?or The Answer—?is like Russia’s version of the Enquirer. This week’s cover has a UFO on it, and side stories about talking dogs, celebrities, and Russians’ favorite remedy for all diseases—?fresh garlic.

My phone pings as I finish the last row. Val. Val has always been there for me, but she’s been especially supportive since I told her in secret that my dad was leaving today. She even offered to let me hold on to her Moana Funko Pop! for good luck, which, coming from her, was a big deal.

You okay?

Babushka is not looking in my direction, so I quickly type back.

Russians don’t cry, so I guess so.

Just keep swimming.

She adds a picture of Dory from Finding Nemo. I laugh, then quickly pocket my phone when Babushka glares at me.

Time for the mahtroshka display.

The Russian Gourmet is a Russian grocery store and deli, but we also sell Russian books, magazines, and toys. Mahtroshkas are dolls within a doll. We have traditional ones that are painted to look like old Russian grandmas with kerchiefs around their heads, but we also have modern ones, like the Simpsons. You open up Homer to reveal a smaller Marge and keep opening until you have a tiny Maggie.

Usually, Dad helps me arrange the mahtroshkas, and we make up stories about them. For example, instead of keeping Snoopy near Charlie Brown, we put him next to Scooby-?Doo, because his Red Baron adventures would fit right in with the Scooby gang. It’s already weird working without him today. Not for Baba, though. She always complains that he needs to help more and talk less. She also never liked our creative mahtroshka maneuvers. But the part that bugged her most was when Dad would zone out and craft stand-up routines in his head.

I do that, too. It helps me pass the time and ignore the rude comments. Not to say I don’t like working here. It’s been fun being here with Dad, Mama, and Baba, all of us banding together to make this store great. I started helping last year—?just a few hours a week—?and the customers quickly learned I knew my stuff and could pack things up just as quickly as Mama and Baba, so it made me feel grown-up and important. But the mental stand-up routines come in handy for the handful of obnoxious customers. Plus, I’m better at faking interest in their stories than Dad, so Baba doesn’t get annoyed with me.

“Maya,” Babushka says, “we’re opening in five.”

I move Elsa beside Rudolph, put on my gloves and hairnet, and brace myself for the line that’s formed outside. Mama winks at me and does the same.

“Was that Val? You didn’t say anything to her, did you?”

Mama doesn’t like me to share family business. “She’s my best friend.”

She frowns but kisses my forehead. “Here we go,” she says under her breath. “Judgy Russian ladies at twelve o’clock.”

I laugh as Babushka flips the Closed sign to Open. “Zahoditze, zahoditze,” she says, welcoming everyone inside.

People shove each other, trying to grab numbers, and I’m glad I have the counter for protection. The three of us divide and conquer. I get lucky with Mrs. Sanchez.

She uses a cane to push her skinny eighty-?five?-year-?old body to the counter. Sometimes, I think the cane is just for show—?or to whack people in line.

“What can I get for you today?” I ask. Mrs. Sanchez is loud and bossy, and I admire that. I love customers’ surprised faces when they realize she won’t let anyone push her around. I also love her lavender hair.

“What’s fresh today?”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “It’s all fresh every day.”

“Hmph,” she says, like she doesn’t believe me. It’s the same conversation we have each time she comes.

I lean forward, like I’m going to tell her a secret. “Just to show you how sure I am, I’ll throw in an extra pirozhok for free.” This is part of our routine, too. Good thing she buys a lot, or we’d go...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Penguin Workshop
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2024
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0593659430
• ISBN 13: 9780593659434
• Einband: Gebundene Ausgabe
• Anzahl der Seiten: 240
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Nicht verfügbar