Red Thread Sisters (9781101591857) (15 page)

twenty-seven

“Hey, what you doing?” Wen asked when she came downstairs on Sunday and saw her mother at the computer, eyes fixed on the blank square where Shu Ling's photo used to be. “Just sitting there?” Wen noticed her mother was holding a tissue, as if she'd been crying.

“I was just peeking.” Her mother moved to make space for Wen. “I got to thinking maybe they just took her picture off for repairs or something.”

Wen gazed at her mother, her blue eyes now red-rimmed and swollen.
She knows,
Wen thought.
She
really gets how much I love Shu Ling.

Her mother understood because Wen had talked to her about Shu Ling. Wen was certain that if people just knew Shu Ling like she did, they would love Shu Ling too. Maybe she had to talk to people face-to-face, so they could really hear what made Shu Ling so special. She could go door to door, like Halloween. She even had a stack of leftover flyers in her room.

Then Wen reminded herself about what had happened after she'd gone to McDonald's last fall. Her parents warned her never to go off like that again.

“Hey,” Wen said, “I go on little walk, give out more flyers.”

“What?” Her mother pushed her glasses onto her head.

“Door to door, like Halloween,” said Wen. “Tell people about Shu Ling myself.”

Wen's mother sighed. “Oh, honey, I know you're trying everything, but do you really think—” She paused, then said gently, “Besides, Wen, Shu Ling is off the Web site altogether.”

“Have to do everything possible,” Wen nearly begged. “Maybe Jenny took photo off because no more time left, but if person call Jenny and ask about Shu Ling, would still be possible.”

“Today's Sunday. Can you do it tomorrow, after school? You seem so tired today, Wen, and you haven't eaten a thing.”

“After today, only two days left.” Wen gestured toward the calendar.

“Well, OK. If it will make you feel better, go ahead, Wen. But just around the block, do you understand? Stay nearby.”

Wen nodded as she stuffed some flyers into her parka.

“Remember this,” her mother called, holding up Wen's phone. “It gets dark early in January, Wen. Don't be gone long.”

“I come back soon.”

Wen walked around the block, ringing doorbells. But nobody was home. She crossed the street. Soon she noticed the buildings had changed from low brick houses to taller ones. She stopped in front of a brown house surrounded by leafless shrubs. Thick curtains covered all the windows.

Wen wanted to go back. She couldn't ring the doorbells of these big houses where strangers lived. Then she thought of Shu Ling, chilled in her bed, as she waited for Auntie Lan Lan to say, “It's your lucky day; Wen has found you a family.”

Wen strode up the walk and pushed a button, just the way she and the others had done on Halloween. She heard a chime inside. Wen shifted her weight and rehearsed her line. Suppose when she opened her mouth, she couldn't remember any English?

“Yes?” A tall man in a jogging suit towered over her.

“I—” Wen stammered. Her mouth had gone so dry she couldn't move her tongue.

“Sorry, not today. We give to so many causes already.” The man kept his hand on the doorknob.

“This is not about money.” Her fingers shaking, Wen fumbled with the flyer.

But he'd already shut the door.

She'd been too slow. She hadn't talked quick enough. She should have said, “Do you want to adopt a nice girl?” fast, before the person closed the door. She'd do better at the next stop. Wen strode to a house as big as a castle. She pushed a pearl button, which she decided must be the doorbell.

“Yes?” said a woman wearing a fuzzy brown sweater. She appraised Wen. “We signed the global-warming paper yesterday.”

“This not—” Wen began. She extended the flyer to the woman carefully, as if she were giving her a precious document. “My friend, Shu Ling. She needs—”

The woman studied the sketch. “So you don't want money, you want us to adopt this girl?” The woman's voice was gentle now.

“She's a very nice girl,” Wen stammered. Telling an unknown person about Shu Ling was harder than she thought. Taking a deep breath, Wen tried again. “You like her for your daughter?”

The lady pushed her glasses up her nose to see Wen better and told her that all her children were grown and she couldn't adopt Shu Ling, but maybe somebody else would. Then she gave Wen a peppermint and wished her luck.

At the next house, a boy about her own age answered her knock.

“Hi,” he said. Behind him a little girl dragged a frayed blanket.

Wen waved a flyer near the boy. “My friend. She needs a family,” she said.

“That's cool. I'll go ask my mom,” the boy said. “I think she wants another kid.” The little girl pattered after him.

While she waited, Wen peeked at the kitchen, its table set with four places. This was the greatest family. The boy was nice, and there was a little girl for Shu Ling to take care of. The house was near hers, so she and Shu Ling would go to the same school, probably be in the same class. After school they'd visit each other's houses and do their homework together, maybe stay for dinner.

“Sorry,” said the boy, coming back. “My mom says no. Besides, she says she only wants real kids.”

“Real kids?” Wen glared at him. “Shu Ling is real.”

“Her
own
,” said the boy. “Not adopted.”

How could the lady think Shu Ling wasn't real? Shu Ling was as real as the boy standing in front of her. The only difference was, the boy had a family and Shu Ling didn't. Wen scowled at the boy and left.

Wen started up the street to try another house. Suddenly, she was very cold and very tired. Her feet hurt so badly she couldn't walk much farther.

She could ring another doorbell but she already knew. Nobody was interested. Wen put her flyers back in her jacket. She tried to retrace her steps, but the houses all looked the same. All she wanted to do was get back home. Her house was probably just around the corner.

But it wasn't. The houses began to blend in front of her. The sun had begun to set, casting shadows on the well-cut lawns.

Then Wen knew she was lost. She pulled out her cell phone and saw that it wasn't charged. Her legs weak, she sat down on the curb. As the sun slipped behind the tall houses, Wen shivered so hard, her teeth chattered.

Sitting on the curb in a neighborhood she didn't know, Wen began to cry. From long ago, she already knew.

No one would come for her.

Her mother probably hadn't asked herself, Where is Wen? She probably hadn't even noticed she was gone. She and the rest of the family had just had dinner and done the chores, not even missing her.

Or maybe she'd been away so long, her mother was mad. That was it. Her mother had said to just go around the block, but nobody answered at those houses. She shouldn't have crossed the street. Instead, she should have come right home, like she'd promised.

Her parents must be so mad they'd decided to leave her here, all alone in the dark.

It turned out she was an extra after all.

In the darkness, the trees towered like dragons. Wen pulled her jacket tighter and sobbed.

Somewhere, deep inside her, a little girl at a gate called out, “Mama!”

Overhead, the moon slid behind the clouds. In the darkness, Wen felt her terror rise. She got up off the curb to look for her mother but the night was so dark, she couldn't see in front of her. She sat back down, her back hurting as if pressing against something dry and hard.

“Mama!” the five-year-old girl inside her called.

All that came back was silence.

Wen waited a long time. She heard the church down the street chime eleven, then twelve. She knew she had waited like this a long time ago.

A dog howled.

A siren screamed.

She was all alone.

Then she heard a car approach and screech to a halt.

“There she is!”

It was her mother's voice. Wen saw the family car in front of her. Her mother tore out of the front seat and ran to her. Emily followed right behind.

Wen's mother crouched by her, on the curb.

At the sight of her mother, Wen began to shake uncontrollably.

“I am so sorry. I got lost,” Wen said.

“I said around the block,” her mother accused. “No more.”

Wen gazed at her mother's blue eyes, flashing now, no longer soft. Then she heard her father slam the car door.

“Oooh, you're in trouble,” Emily whispered. “Watch out!”

Her father strode over to the curb, gripping his car keys.

“Wen, we told you not to do this! You just disappeared on us!” he shouted.

“I not mean—” Wen started.

“Wen, we didn't know where you were!” her mother said, her voice scratchy and hoarse.

“I am sorry. I got lost. I didn't mean to,” Wen pleaded.

“You did this once before!” her father yelled. “You broke our rules, Wen.”

“Very sorry. Never do this again. Ever.” Wen covered her face with her hands.

“Do you get how worried we are when we can't find you?” her mother demanded.

“My fault.” Wen could feel her tears drip on her fingers.

Her mother uncurled her fingers and handed her a tissue.

“Never again, Wen,” her father said.

“When I got lost, know it was my fault.” Wen paused. “But—”

She felt the distant cold creep into her once more. The darkness towered over her again.

“But I got so scared. I thought you would not come.”

“Of course we'd come, Wen,” her father said.

“Thought you not notice I was gone, or maybe too mad,” Wen said. “So left me here, alone.”

Wen's mother took her face in her hands and stared into her eyes so intently that Wen wanted to turn away, but her mother wouldn't let her. “Listen to me,” she said. “We will never leave you. We're family. No matter what happens, Wen. Do you understand?” Then she repeated very slowly.
“We will never leave you.”

And the little girl from long ago knew, at last, that this was true.

“I get this now, Mom.” The word she'd wanted to say all those months burst from her lips, spontaneously, like a song. Her mother's eyes lit up and for a minute, she glowed.

Sitting on the curb, Wen took a glimpse at her father, still pale, gripping his car keys. She glanced at Emily, drowsy, in her PJs. She felt her mother's shoulder against hers.

“Something I must tell you.” Wen looked at the curb, to avoid their gaze. Then she said it. “I love you.”

She waited for the long silence from long ago.

She strained for the reply that would never come.

“We love you too, Wen.” Her father sat on the curb, his arm around her. Emily wedged her little hands into hers. Beside her, her mother drew her close and embraced her. As Wen sank into her mother's arms, she felt as if she fit, as if she had belonged there all the time.

twenty-eight

On the bus Monday, Wen noticed Hannah sitting in a different seat from their regular place on the bus.

“Sit with you?” Wen asked.

“If you want.” Hannah moved over, not looking up.

Wen wedged herself in the seat, her boots on her backpack, where she'd hidden her cell phone so she could secretly call Jenny Peters about Shu Ling's missing photo.

“Hi.” Wen touched Hannah's shoulder. “Want to say I'm sorry.”

“It's OK, I understand.” Hannah edged closer to the window.

They rode in silence.

“Greatly sorry.” Wen tried again. “I missed you this weekend. Figured out much about my family, you too.”

As if she couldn't resist, Hannah turned toward her. “So what did you figure out about me?”

“This weekend I realized I have much right here in America. I have my family, I have you.”

“But you keep pushing me away, Wen. Why wouldn't you wear the necklace? I worked so hard on it and every bead I strung, I thought, ‘Here's me and Wen going bike riding. Here's me and Wen trick-or-treating next Halloween. Here's me and Wen going to the first day of middle school together.' And then you wouldn't wear it!” Hannah bit her lip. “First my dad goes, right? And then Michelle doesn't get it, but you do. So I wanted to be your friend, and even when you acted weird and kept disappearing from me, I told myself you just needed time. I wanted to invite you to sleepovers and get manicures together but I told myself, ‘No, wait, she still misses Shu Ling.' So finally, I give you the necklace, and you won't even wear it. I'd expect something like that from Michelle. But not you!”

“I'm so sorry, Hannah. I did not pay enough attention to you,” Wen said.

“Wen, I understand about Shu Ling. I know she'll always be your best friend. That's why I picked a Special Friends charm, not a Best Friends charm. I thought that would make it easier for you. But you couldn't even wear that!”

“I changed my mind. Shu Ling is my friend. But you are too! Want to wear this necklace, now. This is still OK with you?”

From her pocket, Wen lifted the silver necklace with the word “Special” engraved across the half heart.

“Please, Hannah. I be better friend, I promise!” Wen said.

“OK, you win!” Hannah fished her half-heart necklace from her backpack and the girls hooked the chains over each other's necks. Leaning into each other, they fit the two halves together.

“Special Friends,” Wen read. She slipped her elbow through Hannah's.

As Wen and Hannah rode to school, they glanced down from time to time at their necklaces, glistening against their jackets.

At recess, Wen ducked behind the big tree near the fence and sneaked her cell phone from her pocket. Wen knew the no-cell-phone rule at school and that she could get in trouble. But she didn't care. She had to reach Worldwide Adoptions.

“Jenny, where is Shu Ling's photo?” Wen asked as soon as Jenny Peters answered.

“Oh, Wen,” Jenny sighed. “I was going to call you. Something, ah, rather unexpected has happened.”

“Please tell me!” Wen said. “Family gave her back?”

“No. Shu Ling will only tell you. That's what she said to Director Feng.”

“Something has happened?” Wen's voice rose, her panic overtaking her.

“That's just it, Wen. We don't know. Shu Ling has said she will talk to you about whatever it is, but not to anyone else.”

“I call her right away,” Wen answered.

“You have to call her tonight, Wen, or it's too late. Don't forget the time difference. If you call Shu Ling tomorrow, it will already be her birthday in China. She'll be fourteen and too old,” Jenny said.

Time difference!
Wen hadn't thought of that. Suppose the phone lines were down tonight because of a blizzard in China? Suppose Shu Ling was at her auntie training and couldn't talk? Then there would be no more time.

At six o'clock that evening, as soon as she knew Shu Ling would be awake in China, Wen took the landline phone off its cradle. She went into her bedroom and closed the door to talk to Shu Ling alone.

Auntie Lan Lan answered.

“Auntie Lan Lan, it's me, Wen.”

“I'm so glad you called! Here, let me get her.”

Wen waited, focusing on Shu Ling's portrait to calm herself. Then she heard the familiar
stomp-drag, stomp-drag
coming toward the phone.

“Wen, you called!” Shu Ling said.

“Shu Ling!” Wen hadn't heard her voice for so long. “What's going on?”

Wen heard a pause on the phone and could almost see Shu Ling take the shoelace from her hair and twist it in her hands, the way she did when she had something hard to say.

“Wen,” Shu Ling whispered, “I cannot do it.”

“What?” Wen reeled. “You mean, you got sick or something, so you can't come right now?”

“No.” Shu Ling's voice wavered. “I'm so sorry,
mei mei
. I cannot come at all.”

“But why, Shu Ling? What about our promise?”

“I tried to want to come. Please believe me,” Shu Ling said. “But this is the place I know best. I'm too old to leave.”

“What are you talking about?” Wen asked. “You're thirteen. That's not too old!”

“Maybe not for you, but you're younger and you're braver than I am. I don't think I could get used to a new life in America. I wanted to. I miss you so much,
mei mei
. I carry your letters around with me in my shirt and at nighttime, I sing lullabies to only myself and I long for you to be near me. Sometimes I feel I cannot go on without you.”

Wen gazed at Shu Ling's portrait, tacked on her bulletin board, the two of them, arm in arm. “I miss you all the time, Shu Ling.”

Wen thought of the spinning game, how she used to twirl so fast, depending on Shu Ling's face to anchor her. Now Shu Ling was saying she wasn't coming after all. Wen felt as if she had crumpled in the yellow dust, too weak and too empty inside to get up. She was losing her best friend for good.

“We said we'd be together always,” Wen said. “We made a deal! I only left because we'd visit each other in America. I went to all that trouble to find you a family.”

Wen thought of how she'd pored over the rows of photos, how she'd posted her search request with the lookout people. She thought about how she'd tracked down Shu Ling's picture on the Worldwide Adoptions Web site and how she'd rewritten her description to make it better. After that, with the help of the stand-up people, she'd gotten her on all the advocacy blogs. And now, when she'd finally found Shu Ling a family, Shu Ling didn't want to go.

“Oh, Wen, please don't be mad at me.”

“How could I not be mad? I kept my promise and you're breaking yours.” As Wen spoke, she tasted bitterness, like the water she and Shu Ling used to drink from rusty tin cups.

“My leg, Wen.” Shu Ling paused. “This family can't really want me, not with my bad leg.”

“Ah,” Wen said. “Your leg.” She peered again at the portrait, Shu Ling's twisted leg hidden by gently flowing flared jeans.

Last year, when they'd been playing the choosing game, Shu Ling had stopped all of a sudden and frowned at her twisted leg, protruding from her nightgown. Her eyes half shut, her cheeks flushed, Shu Ling began rubbing Barbie's curved legs. When Wen asked what was wrong, Shu Ling shrieked that she wanted two nice long legs, just like Barbie, just like everybody else. Then Shu Ling yanked out Barbie's right leg and hurled it down the ditch.

“Shu Ling!” Wen had yelled. She scrambled into the gully, rocks cutting her legs, dust making her eyes sting. She spotted the Barbie leg wedged between a dented milk tin and a dead bird. She unhooked the Barbie leg and climbed back to the dust space, where she cleaned the leg with her shirt and popped it back onto the Barbie.

“You shouldn't have thrown the leg, Shu Ling!” Wen said. “We could have both gotten in a lot of trouble. And you know what that means. It means Director Feng bans us from adoption. You should have thought about that.”

“Mei mei,”
Shu Ling said, “I'm so sorry.” Shu Ling sat on the tires, her bad leg crooked and her head in her lap.

“You can never do that again!” Wen told Shu Ling.

When Wen stooped to help Shu Ling get up, Shu Ling clung to Wen and sobbed. “I thought you had stopped being my friend.”

“Oh, Shu Ling,” Wen had said. “I could never stop being your friend.”

They had never talked about that day again.

Now Wen said, “So it's your leg! Shu Ling, when I wrote about you on the Web site, I told about your leg. So this family already knows! They're fine with it. They want you anyway!”

“Another thing,” Shu Ling said. “You told me yourself, Wen, how you were scared, how they seemed like strangers. I wouldn't even know how to
be
in a family.”

Wen remembered how afraid she'd been of her mother's first kisses, her pushing Emily away when she wanted to play. She remembered working so hard to be a good daughter and not get sent back. She hadn't known how to be in a family either.

“You're right, Shu Ling. I've been scared too,” Wen said. “Really scared. But you have to let them love you. You just have to let them.”

With one hand, she picked up the family portrait that her mother had framed and set on her bedside table. There they all were, standing in front of McDonald's. In the back, her parents wrapped their arms around Wen and Emily. Her mother had that glow in her eyes and her father was opening his mouth, like he was saying cheese, even though of course cheese was for eating, not for saying while taking pictures. Grinning wide, Emily was hanging on to Wen, and even Wen was smiling.

“I only know how to be on my own,
mei mei
,” Shu Ling said.

“I know you think you can be on your own. I used to think so too. But it's better with a family.”

“How is it better? Trips to McDonald's and the mall-palace?” Shu Ling asked. “I don't need these.”

“No. Being with a family is better because if you get lost, they drive around in their car until they find you. If you feel sad, they try to cheer you up, even if they don't really know what's wrong. If you get sick, they sit by your bed and take care of you. And if things get hard, like maybe there's less money, they still love you no matter what, because they're your family. That's what's better.”

“And you learned to do this? You're not scared?”

Wen thought, then replied. “Shu Ling, sometimes, but not so much anymore.”

“It would be worse for me,
mei mei
.”

“No.” Wen's voice gathered force. “Your family will help you.”

The phone went silent. Holding her breath, Wen waited.

“I'd have a real family, Wen?” Shu Ling said slowly.

“A family has chosen you, Shu Ling. It's that red-thread thing Auntie Lan Lan talks about.”

“The invisible one that connects people?” Shu Ling asked.

“Yes. You belong with them, Shu Ling,” Wen said. “It is your lucky day!”

Shu Ling said nothing. In the background, Wen heard the babies crying, an auntie calling out for extra help, and the kids getting lined up for chores.

Still, Shu Ling did not speak.

Wen studied the portrait, pacing back and forth, forcing herself to wait.

“OK.” Shu Ling spoke with confidence. “I'm coming. I have a family of my own now, and I'm coming.”

“You're really sure, Shu Ling?” Wen asked.

“Definitely. See you in the village of Florida,
mei mei
!”

After she hung up, Wen shrieked, “Mom! Dad! Emily! Shu Ling's coming after all!”

Her mother raced in so quickly that Wen figured she must have been waiting outside the door.

“Oh, Wen,” her mother sighed. As they hugged, Wen felt her mother's moist cheeks against her own. Her father bounded into her room, carrying the mug she'd given him, and Emily bounced onto Wen's bed.

Wen flung her arms around all of them. She had a family and now, at last, Shu Ling did too.