Airi Sano, Prankmaster General, page 1
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First published in the United States of America by Philomel Books,
an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 2022
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Ebook ISBN 9780593465806
Edited by Talia Benamy
Cover art © 2022 by Cake Creative
Cover design by Monique Sterling
Notebook art courtesy of 123rf
Design by Monique Sterling, adapted for ebook by Michelle Quintero
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Airi Sano’s Case File
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Acknowledgments
Author’s Land Acknowledgments
About the Author and Illustrator
For my teachers Scott Waxler and Shannon Vaughan, who believed in my writing before anyone else
AIRI SANO’S CASE FILE
The US Army has a file on me at least five hundred pages thick. An OMPF.[*] That’s what Mom says, anyway. She says we ought to request it so I can “learn the effects of my behavior” and “start to think before I act.” She always sighs when she says that. Then she looks up at the ceiling and asks, “How did I raise such a delinquent?”
I like it better when she gets mad. Her face gets all red like a pepper, and she uses my full name: “Airi. Evelyn. Sano.” Like that. You can hear the periods. It always makes me giggle. When she sighs, there’s nothing to laugh at.
I had to look up the word “delinquent” online when she first used it. There were a few definitions. Here are my favorites:
delinquent (de-LING-kwent)
noun—a usually young person who regularly performs illegal or immoral acts
adjective—neglectful of a duty or obligation; guilty of a misdeed or offense
Synonyms: offender, wrongdoer, malefactor, lawbreaker, culprit, criminal
I also found a bunch of mug shots. Turns out that means pictures of criminals, not actual mugs. At first I thought “mug” stood for something, like MUG: Mostly Unwashed Guy. Then I remembered back when Dad was stationed at Fort Mackall-Bragg in Fayetteville, North Carolina, I heard one of my teachers say a kid had “a mug only a mother could love” after he broke his nose falling off the jungle gym. I asked Dad about it later and he said “mug” is an old-fashioned way of saying “face,” but he didn’t know why. I didn’t get it then, and I don’t get it now.
These days, when Mom calls me a delinquent, I leave little drawings of what my mug shot might look like—if I ever actually get arrested—all over the house for her. I even asked my obaachan (that’s what I call my grandma in Japan) how to write “delinquent” in kanji (不良少女[*]) to really make my point. I like to hide the pictures so she’ll find them when she least expects it. Sometimes I’ll be across the house and I’ll hear her yelp when she opens the bathroom cabinet and sees me smirking back.
“Smirking” means “to smile in an insincere manner.” A teacher once accused me of smirking and gave me a demerit. When I said I didn’t even know what a smirk was, she gave me a second demerit and a note to give my parents. Mom sighed extra loud that day.
I started drawing the mug shots because I thought they were funny. I hoped they would make Mom laugh. Dad likes them. He collects them all for my file and compliments me on the different faces. But Mom never laughs. Which is the whole point.
What I’m saying is that she thinks I’m bad. Everyone thinks I’m bad. People just don’t have a sense of humor. They don’t get it. That’s why I started my own case file. An Official Personal Personnel File (aka an OPPF). If the army is going to keep a report on me, I want to tell my side of the story too.
Now when I get put out in the hall or sent to the vice principal’s office, I’ll be documenting it. Then the next time I get called in for a “talk” on why I’m not “fitting in,” I won’t have to say a word. All I’ll have to do is give them my file. This portfolio of information, all for them to see. Just like the ones that Dad brings home sometimes, the ones that aren’t classified. That way when Mom or my teacher or anyone asks, “What were you thinking, Airi?” I’ll be able to show them this.
And if you still think I’m bad, then fine. If this is bad, then I’ll be bad. I’ll be the happiest, baddest delinquent you’ve ever seen.
PERSONNEL FILE
Name
Sano, Airi (SAW-no, EYE-ree)[*]
Date of Birth
April 7
Place of Birth
Sagamihara, Japan
Place of Residence
Fort Shafter, Hawai‘i
Formerly Fayetteville, North Carolina; Hopkinsville, Kentucky; Burlington, New Jersey; Fairfax, Virginia; San Antonio, Texas; Pine Bluff, Arkansas. Also a little time in South Korea, but I was too young to remember that.
Occupation
Delinquent
Primary Specialties
Causing trouble, making people laugh, pranks
Awards and Citations
Most Disruptive Student, Best Baby Soother (according to Dad), Genius Prankster
Disciplinary Record
Too long to include full list
Remarks
Dad keeps promising I can take fighting classes when we find a place for me to go, but it hasn’t happened yet. By the end of next year, I want to add Karate Master to my specialties.
SITUATION REPORT
Date
Friday, September 3
Location
Fort Shafter, Hawai‘i
Activities Planned
Finish moving into our new house
Logistical Requirements
Scissors (to open the boxes)
Step stool (to put things up in the cabinets)
Obstacles Anticipated
Dad is at work, so no one can reach the highest shelves.
Remarks
Dad set up a lot of stuff before we got here! It was nice to come into a new house and for once not have to sleep on the floor the first night.
The phone in our new house rings and rings and rings. We’ve only been on base for twenty-four hours, so how does anyone even know we’re home? We haven’t had the chance to visit Grandma and Grandpa yet. They don’t even know we’ve arrived. Dad wants to surprise them.
Mom is busy strapping my little sister into her high chair, so I push myself up onto the kitchen counter to grab the phone. Mom tells me to get down, but Kaori distracts her by trying to climb out of her seat. Kaori’s my favorite. She always distracts Mom at just the right moment.
“Yellow?” I say into the phone.
“Excuse me? Hello?” says the voice on the other end. I don’t recognize it, and they don’t have a local accent, which means they aren’t family. I smile to myself. That makes it more fun.
“Yellow,” I say again. “Orange you glad you got me?”
“I’m calling for Lieutenant Colonel Sano,” the voice says, completely ignoring my jokes. “Could you put him on the line?”
“I’ll teal him you called,” I say. Teal is my favorite color. “Blue are you?”
The voice gets all tense and annoyed now. “Is one of your parents home?” I can just tell he’s gritting his teeth.
I’m trying to think of another color to use when Mom snatches the phone from my hand. She
Sure enough, she puts her hand over the mouthpiece and frowns at me.
“Airi, I thought we agreed you were going to try harder to behave once we moved here,” she whispers. “You said you wouldn’t make trouble anymore.”
I want to tell her that I never signed anything—Dad says that’s what makes an agreement official—but she’s already talking on the phone again. She takes the caller’s name and a message and hangs up. Then she crosses her arms and looks at me. Usually that means she’s about to lecture me about being more respectful.
“I said I would be nicer,” I protest before she can say anything. “I’ve been very nice.”
And I have!
I sorted the recycling without being asked. I even rinsed out the bottles and cans like Mom likes so that we wouldn’t get ants.
I changed Kaori’s diaper while Mom was busy with the cable people and played with her so she wouldn’t crawl away and stick her finger in a socket. Not that Kaori would actually do that, but grown-ups seem to think that’s the first thing any baby wants to do.
I organized the shoes on our front step so we wouldn’t trip on them when we went out. We don’t have a little shelf in the entryway like we used to because Dad doesn’t want us getting mud in the house.[*]
Mom shakes her head. “You promised that when we got to Hawai‘i, things would be different. You’d be more mature. But this is something the old Airi would have done.”
I look down at the ugly brown tiles instead of her disappointed face. My stomach is all queasy. It seems like Mom’s been giving me more and more of those disappointed looks these days. Even though I’m the same me I’ve always been.
Mom gives one of her big sighs. “Do you have anything to say?”
That means she wants me to apologize.
“Oh my god,” I say. “It was a joke! Most people think it’s funny.” Actually, only Grandma laughs at my yellow joke. But if more people were like her, they’d think it was funny too. “Orange you tickled pink?” I give Mom a big smile so she’ll know I’m joking around.
“Go to your room,” Mom says. She isn’t smiling even a little. I open my mouth to protest—I didn’t mean any harm—but Kaori starts crying just then, like she can sense Mom’s mood. Mom turns to soothe her, forgetting about me. I sprint off.
I run past my little brother, E.J., who’s watching TV quietly like a good, respectful child. Past the cat bed where Mr. Knuckles will sleep once he’s out of pet quarantine. Through the trail of Cheerios Kaori left on her way to the kitchen. Up, up, up the stairs to the only place I like in this new house. My room.
Two teal walls and two red—that’s my other favorite color—even though Mom said they don’t match. My baseball cards, which used to be my grandpa’s, framed on the wall. My stacks of comic books. And even though my room has a bunk bed, I don’t have to share it. I can use it to make a fort or a secret hideaway where I can plan my next mission.
When Dad told me we were moving again, this was part of our agreement. I wouldn’t have to share with E.J. anymore. I’d get a place that was just mine. I could fill it with as much junk as I wanted, because this time we were staying. No more moving. He even let me draw him a diagram of how I wanted everything set up, and he copied it perfectly, just for me. Because he does things like that.
Dad put a desk next to the window, which looks out into our new backyard. I sit in the spinny chair that used to be his and spread out my collection of report cards. I’ve been turning them into a collage. Cutting them up neatly to glue along a piece of thick paper. A lovely pattern of Cs and Ds, surrounded by a halo of my teachers’ comments. The Great Airi Sano.
Fifth-Grade Report Card
Student: Airi Sano
Fourth-Quarter Grades
ELA:
D
Reading:
D
Science:
D
Social Studies:
C-
Math:
D
Art:
A-
PE:
C
“Airi could benefit from more attention to detail in her work, and an attitude adjustment to make her participation in class more productive and less distracting to other students.” —Mrs. Parekh
“While spirited, Airi’s pranks are rarely amusing, especially when directed at her teachers, and they are frequently disruptive to class.” —Mr. Simmons
“Although Airi occasionally has difficulty following instructions, she is always eager to try new things and is an enthusiastic and talented young artist. I’d like to see her collaborate more with other students.” —Ms. Meyers
“Airi was a keen participator in our science labs, particularly when it came to making explosions. I’d love to see her give as much attention and excitement to her notes, quizzes, and classwork.” —Ms. Evanson
Grown-ups say that school is important because it helps you decide what you want to do with your life. I think maybe some kids need that, because they don’t know anything. They think they want to be doctors or accountants or whatever their parents do. I know I don’t want to be in the army (too many rules), and I know I don’t want to be a travel agent like Mom was (boring). I’m already perfectly happy the way I am. School just holds me back.
THINGS I COULD DO WITH MY LIFE IF I DIDN’T HAVE TO GO TO SCHOOL
YouTube prankster, though I think most of those people fake it
Pirate, because pirates do still exist no matter what E.J. says
Comic artist (people just make their own and put them online)
Deep-sea explorer—I’m not afraid of small spaces or the ocean
Pop star, which doesn’t really seem very fun, but you don’t have to go to school for it
Superhero, but one without superpowers, like Batgirl or Elektra (I need the karate lessons that Dad promised, but that’s not like school)
Olympic athlete (see above about karate)
Pet sitter, preferably cats
Dad says my new school is supposed to be good. It isn’t a base school, it’s a normal public school, which means it isn’t just military kids. I like base schools. Other military kids know the score. We all keep our distance, because we know we might move any day. Normal kids want to be friends. And I’ve tried that. But those friendships never last.
The other thing about base schools is that there are usually more kinds of people. But in places like Kentucky, where I went to a public school, E.J. and I were the only Asian kids. Which can get old. People always had the most ridiculous questions. Like:
“Why don’t you wear a kimono?”
“Can you teach me karate?”
“Are you secretly a ninja?”
“Do you really eat raw fish? That’s so gross!”
