Keep Dancing, Lizzie Chu: Chapters 8–17

I didn’t want to mention that I was searching for the balls of my feet just in case it was something everyone knew about and I was being dense.

“I like your jacket, Ty,” I said, admiring the lapels and the neatly sewn-on buttons.

We realized you hadn’t booked a spot for a parent/guardian consultation. We are concerned that we haven’t had any contact with you for some time now regarding Lizzie’s learning journey.

We have an excellent pastoral care officer called Andrea Harris, and we would be happy to put you in touch with her.

He sat back on his haunches and looked up at Chi, admiring his handiwork.

Suddenly, Chi Naomi Pham had disappeared, and in her place was a convincing Princess Leia. My little drama was put on the back burner.

Chi and I had watched Marvel’s Shang-Chi about fifty times already. Loads of people in our class made fun of Chi when the film came out because it had Chi in the title. People could be so silly and ignorant!

The goddess breaking in half is an omen. My mind is made up. I’ve been adding it all up, and the Blackpool tickets are the reason Guan Yin broke. I never should have put them underneath her for safekeeping. It was the wrong place! I didn’t get that job I wanted either, which is proof that my luck is doubly bad.

“It’s Comic Con, Lizzie, the first time it’s ever been in Glasgow, and you aren’t cosplaying? You could have gone as Xialing, Shang-Chi’s sister, instead of wearing a sweatshirt that says...MAY THE FORCE BE WITH EWE? Is that a sheep?"

I held on to Chi’s arm as she led me to look at the memorabilia stands.

Chi and I lined up to meet the actor who played Captain Carson Teva from The Mandalorian, but the queue was long.

“Nice to meet you all. Okay, see you.” That was our cue to move out of the way.

Wai Gong got down on his knees and bowed his head to the floor. “He’s not doing it right either. Leia didn’t have subjects who kowtowed like that.”

He sauntered over to the bench and sat down.

We ran off toward the Ghibli stage, where soot sprites were doing a dance.

Milo du Peck was a human who was being pulled from side to side by his conscience, which was personified by the devils and angels. One of the devils was trying to get him to do what he wanted, but an angel wouldn’t let him and said something sweet that made him smile.

I’m not naming names, but someone got some sweet chili on the bottom of it. Okay, I am naming names. It was Minh. The oaf was holding the bottle above my head and wouldn’t give it to me, so I grabbed it and some of it fell onto my Leia outfit.

“Nope, I need a big favor,” I said. In true Lizzie style, it made me uncomfortable asking Chi for help. Wai Gong and Grandma Kam had been firm: We did things by ourselves, and we didn’t impose on others or “lose face.”

The gang become good citizens, and Guan Yin become the patron saint of fishermen and sailors.

Her lips puckered; her brow furrowed. She was thinking hard.

“It’s not a weird Star Wars thing! We’ll be helping someone. My grandad thinks that Chi here is his favorite goddess, Guan Yin, when she dresses up in the Princess Leia costume. He said someone in his family was visited by the goddess in the past. And he talks to her all the time—well, he did, but he broke his statue of her, and now he thinks Chi is the living incarnation of his goddess,” I said with hardly a breath in between words.

“A little mauve ribbon here. A little tuck there. Easy.”

“But I don’t need to like lots of people when I have the two finest human specimens in the entire universe right here.”

“Sorry I’m late, Lizzie...hey, fabulous older brother of mine,” Chi said, sidling up to the counter and climbing onto the seat next to mine.

“Have you come to gloat because you don’t have to work here like I do?” Minh said, wiping down the counter with a wet cloth.

“I could film sad vignettes on the beach. Close-ups of Mr. Chu pining for his dead wife... Oh, that’s very filmic—the rolling waves of the sea, the decay of an English seaside town, the tears of a lonely man. The granddaughter wishing her grandmother hadn’t died. The old man longing for a love lost, the dance that will save the day...”

“I could film sad vignettes on the beach. Close-ups of Mr. Chu pining for his dead wife... Oh, that’s very filmic—the rolling waves of the sea, the decay of an English seaside town, the tears of a lonely man. The granddaughter wishing her grandmother hadn’t died. The old man longing for a love lost, the dance that will save the day...”

“We’re all going to be dressed up in flashy clothes too,” Chi said.

I’d rummaged through Grandma Kam’s trinket boxes and found a golden flower brooch.

“How many hairpieces do you have here? A hundred?” She laughed, eyeing the long black synthetic hair I’d bought from the market.

He held up his phone, displaying a picture of the demure and kind goddess.

“Cheeky!” shouted Chi, punching Tyler in the arm.

“I’ve got this gold brooch for your hair—that goes here,” I said, tapping the middle of her crown. “The veil attaches to the back.”

Tyler stifled a laugh.

I gently prodded his upper arm.

He jumped out of bed and knelt before Chi, whose mouth was agape.

Chi held out her hand like a queen.
“My esteemed, devoted...er...worshipper guy?” she said.

She was being a bit of a weird goddess. She needed poise and a kind nature, and instead she was just being Chi but with a posh voice!

The goddess is really here. What is it that you want, oh Divine One?

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted by this lowly minion...”