Yoshi stood on the kitchen stool and looked at himself in the toaster.
His face looked back, all wobbly and wide.
"Today," he said, "I am going to wink."
He'd seen his dad do it. Just one eye, closed and open, quick as a blink. His dad did it when he slid an extra cookie onto Yoshi's plate. His dad did it when Mom asked who ate the last dumpling.
It looked so easy.
Yoshi squeezed his left eye shut.
His right eye shut too.
Both eyes. Shut. Just standing there in the dark.
"No, no, no," he said. He opened everything back up. He pointed at his left eye. "YOU close." He pointed at his right eye. "YOU stay open."
He tried again.
Both eyes shut.
He tried again.
Both eyes shut.
He tried AGAIN — fast this time, like maybe he could trick his face.
Both eyes shut, and this time his mouth scrunched up too, and his nose wiggled, and his tongue stuck out a little.
He looked at himself in the toaster. He looked like a raisin.
"What are you doing?" His big sister Hana stood in the doorway, holding her school bag.
"Winking," said Yoshi.
"That is NOT winking."
"I KNOW."
Hana dropped her bag. She walked over. She tilted her head like she was looking at a very interesting bug.
"Watch," she said. She winked. One eye, smooth and easy, pop. "See? Simple."
"Do it slow."
She did it slow.
Yoshi copied her.
Both eyes shut. His whole face crumpled like a paper bag.
Hana laughed so hard she had to hold the counter.
"Stop LAUGHING."
"I'm not — okay, I am, but —" She was laughing so hard her eyes got watery.
Yoshi jumped off the stool and went to the bathroom. Smaller mirror. Closer. He leaned in until his nose almost touched the glass.
He held his right eye open with his fingers.
Then he closed his left eye.
ONE EYE CLOSED. ONE EYE OPEN.
"HANA! HANA, COME LOOK!"
She ran in. He showed her. Left eye shut, right eye held open with two fingers.
"That's cheating," she said.
"It's WORKING."
"You can't use your fingers!"
Yoshi looked in the mirror. She had a point. He slowly, slowly let go of his right eye.
It stayed open.
For one beautiful second — one amazing second — Yoshi was winking.
Then his face caught on. Both eyes slammed shut. His cheeks puffed out. He looked like a blowfish.
He sat on the bathroom floor. The cold tile felt nice. He lay all the way down and stared at the ceiling.
"My face is broken," he said.
"Your face is not broken."
"It doesn't listen to me."
Hana lay down next to him. They both stared up.
"I couldn't snap my fingers until last month," she said. "I tried for a really long time."
"A REALLY long time?"
"Mmm-hmm. And now —" She snapped. Crisp and loud, bouncing off the bathroom walls.
Yoshi let out a big breath.
Then their dad's face appeared above them, looking down. Upside-down dad. Apron on. Wooden spoon in hand.
"Why are my children on the bathroom floor?"
"Yoshi's learning to wink," said Hana.
"Ah," said Dad. Very serious. "Very difficult skill. Took me ages."
"Really?" Yoshi sat up.
Dad kneeled down. He looked left. He looked right. He leaned in close, like he had a secret.
Then he winked.
And Yoshi — still trying, still determined, still making the blowfish face — scrunched up everything he had and winked right back.
Both eyes closed, mouth twisted sideways, one ear wiggling for some reason.
Dad grinned. "Perfect," he said.
They went to the kitchen. Dad slid an extra dumpling onto Yoshi's plate.
And Yoshi — with his whole, wonderful, beautiful face — winked.
