Worlds Apart (40 page)

We walked toward the subway. Delancey commented that there were a lot of Chinese gangsters hanging outside the school that day. She was right; they lined the sidewalks, and watched everyone leaving the school carefully.

“If you are not Chinese, don’t worry about it,” I said.

“It looks like they are looking for someone,” she added.

There were about forty of them. They stood on top of cars, mailboxes, and the rest were on the streets. The gang formed a perimeter around the school. There was no sign of Eddie Lo. I surmised he was the target.

Delancey and I took the subway to Manhattan’s upper west side. We talked about the dance and about Sam’s obsession with her. We talked about her dad, and about Bruce. Delancey was genuinely the best girl I had ever known. She was real, honest, and open about her life. There were no secrets, no affairs with teachers, nothing to hide. I really liked this about her. We arrived at her building and I kissed her goodbye. We shared a warm embrace.

I didn’t notice her menacing father nearby. He put his heavy hand on my shoulder and said, “That’s enough.” If looks could kill I’d be in a grave somewhere.

On the subway ride home, I deliberated telling Mr. Mash about Mr. Zoose, Svetlana, or Sam. I didn’t want to be disloyal to anyone, especially to Mr. Zoose.

I pulled out a sheet of paper from my backpack and a pen, and started writing an anonymous letter to Mr. Mash. Maybe I wrote it because I was angry and felt betrayed. I’d prefer to think that my intentions were noble, and that I was doing the right thing, but I wasn’t sure. I thought about Sam, and even felt guilty about being disloyal to him. I despised Sam for burning Doreen’s college application. Was it my place to tell Mr. Mash about Sam? Was I doing the right thing or was I jealous that he was accepted to Harvard?

I wrote two paragraphs. The first was everything I suspected about Sam cheating on the SATs, as well as burning Doreen’s application. I did not mention Carlos. In the second paragraph, I wrote all that I knew about Mr. Zoose and Svetlana. I signed the letter “Anonymous.” I stopped by the post office and mailed it. There was no looking back; the letter would get to Mr. Mash that week.

Delancey was on my mind. A voice inside tried to talk me out of asking her to the prom. I could not afford to show her the good time she deserved. Juan was right; I could not afford a limousine. She might be embarrassed to be with me. I could hear Juan and Sam’s voices in my head, but the more I listened, the more I realized they were all my own voice. We were from such different worlds, and I was too embarrassed to ask her to the prom. I had to be practical. I really couldn’t afford to buy her ticket, a limo, and take her to the after party. I talked myself out of asking her to the prom.

Chapter 20

In May, the news of Tiananmen Square and the photos that followed were the topic of conversation in history class. The image of a Chinese student protestor standing in front of a military tank could be seen in every magazine and newspaper, on every newsstand. Classroom discussions centered on freedom of expression and freedom to demonstrate one’s opinion against the government. Mrs. Moynihan routinely showed the photos. A student from China explained a few things to the class about the Chinese government.

Wing King had arrived in America from China less than three years before, and felt the need to defend his native country. Wing was intelligent, a top student, and very proud of his Chinese background. Mrs. Moynihan was closed minded to Wing’s nationalism. She explained that there were no human rights in China like there were in America.

“Mrs. Moynihan…American democracy is not a model for democracy for the entire world. China’s government is not looking for 1960’s American type protests and riots,” Wing said.

“The 1960’s protests were of the Vietnam war. Sometimes the police got carried away, but there were no official government tanks that tried to run over students,” Mrs. Moynihan said. She proudly added that she was speaking from experience.

“I was referring to the treatments of blacks, and the Civil Rights movement. They protested against segregation. But the protests against the Vietnam War are a good example as well. America is not the model for human rights given what has occurred. China has been here for thousands of years, and changes are slow. The Chinese government will make changes, and if it takes one hundred to two hundred years, it is considered very quickly.” The class laughed at Wing’s time frame of quick change.

“Well, here in America things don’t take that long. A change is voted upon and enacted by Congress and things change much more quickly,” argued Mrs. Moynihan.

“The laws may change quickly, but the minds and memories of a nation change much slower. That’s the real change. I am sure that black people and Native Indians do not feel the same way about the quickness of change,” countered Wing.

“You really should say African Americans and Native Americans,” said Mrs. Moynihan, impressed that Wing knew so much about American history.

“In thirty years, China will be the most powerful country in the world. Then the Chinese government will become the model for democracy that the United States is today,” said Wing.

“In thirty years, China may be a powerful nation, but the United States is not going to disappear,” I said. “The United States will still be a superpower and a model of democracy that will be on display to all nations. The United States will still be the most powerful country,” I said.

“America is already bleeding – jobs, corruption, crime, diseases. Trust me, David, the bleeding can’t be stopped.” Wing held his chin up in the air.

“Why is that? Why would China become a model for democracy?” asked Mrs. Moynihan.

Wing remarked, “Because the most powerful nation on the planet has to set the example in order to become stronger in people’s minds and not just on paper. Real superpowers are respected and feared without exercising their might.”

“Well said,” I replied to Wing. “But I think America will come back. We always do.” I complimented Wing’s knowledge of international politics and excellent English language skills. He had been in the states for such a short time.

“I studied English for ten years before I came to this country. Do you study Chinese here?” he asked.

“I think Chinese is only offered in colleges right now,” I answered. “You must have also studied American history.”

“Yes. I have seen the pictures of the protesters, the dogs, the hoses, and police brutality. You should not be so quick to condemn China based on pictures of Tiananmen Square, given your country’s history.”

“America has learned from its past, and continues to make changes and head in the right direction. Can you say the same about China?” I asked.

“Only time will tell, but yes, changes are occurring in China, and soon the Chinese Army will be the most powerful in the world,” Wing said.

“But will communism survive or give way to democracy?”

“We have democracy in China, its just not American democracy,” commented Wing.

I held up a picture from a magazine of the Chinese Student at Tiananmen Square standing in front of a tank and said, “Is this what you call Chinese Democracy?”

“It will get better,” Wing said. The bell rang, ending our debate, and we walked out together in the hallway.

“If you don’t mind, can I ask you to explain the difference between a Republican and a Democrat?” Wing asked me.

“There is a well known and simple way that a journalist once explained it. Let’s say that you go out to dinner with four friends. Everyone orders something different – steak, lobster, a salad, and someone just has an appetizer. Everyone drinks something different – water, soda, scotch, and champagne. The bill comes. Now a republican wants everyone to pay for what they ordered. A democrat wants the bill split evenly in four ways.”

“I see. Which one are you?” Wing asked.

“It depends.” I answered smugly.

“Depends on what?”

“On what I ordered and how much I ate,” I laughed. Wing laughed a moment later, but I wasn’t sure if he understood the joke. “What about you?” I asked.

“I’m from the People’s Republic of China…we eat family style and I like to taste what everyone else ordered.” He catches on fast.

“Well then that makes you a communist,” I said.

“Actually, that makes me full,” Wing responded.

I was writing an article about the top athletes in school and where they were to attend college. Mino did not get a scholarship, but was accepted at a big ten school in the Midwest. I wondered how he could afford it. In my interview, Mino said all the right things about feeling honored, being excited, and the making the most of the opportunity. He looked depressed. I asked him if he was okay.

“I don’t even like football. I’m sick of it. I lied to my mother and told her that I received a scholarship.”

“What are you going to do? How can you pay for it?” I asked.

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

I interviewed Kenneth from the basketball team. He talked about his full scholarship. I quoted him in the paper “I have no regrets about high school; I did everything I wanted to.”

Sandra from the swim team was able to get a half scholarship to a State school. Jacob was going off to a different college, and she was realistic about the future. She added that if Jacob really cared for her, he would go to any lengths to be with her.

Many seniors were staying in the state, as the national economy headed south and the best deals were within our own state college system.

The choice for me was made – I came from a poor family, and we could not afford an expensive private school. For middle class families, there was a real debate. The expense of private schools might be worth the reputation for them. A top private school could really open doors in the future. I went to see Ms. Eris. She was in her office and welcomed me in.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked.

“I’m second guessing everything. I’ve been accepted to a state college, I can’t afford a private college. I don’t know if I’m making the right decision by even going to college…because… I want to pursue a career in music. I just don’t know.”

“This means that you are a normal high school senior. All your fears, all your concerns, all your second guessing…it all boils down to the same thing. You have a fear of the unknown, just like everyone else. Up to this point, your father has made all the decisions in your life. But now it’s up to you. You fear the unknown world outside of high school. It will be fine no matter what direction you choose. There is life after high school. Just make sure that you accomplish all that you needed to while you are still here, because one day, ten years or twenty years from now, you don’t want to look back and have regrets.”

For the first time Ms. Eris made sense.

Carlos was waiting for me.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I have a problem. Someone told Mr. Mash that I was one of the students that cheated on the SATs. Mash knows all the details. Do you know who turned me in?” asked Carlos.

“Did you cheat on the SATs?” I asked. Carlos hesitated, but I stared at him, arms folded, waiting for answer.

“Several of us brought cheat sheets and dictionaries into the boys’ bathroom that day. The SAT board is saying that our scoring was too similar and it indicates cheating, but they also know how we cheated, in detail, so someone told them.”

“Carlos, did you ask Sam?” I said.

“I did. Sam said that I shouldn’t blame him for cheating and getting caught. There were a few of us that cheated. Sam was one.”

“I think that only someone involved could have given that information.” Carlos had already figured this out before he came to meet me.

“I guess it was Sam,” said Carlos. I didn’t have to tell Carlos that it was Sam that ratted him out. Mr. Mash had obviously received my anonymous letter and what he did with it was his decision.

About an hour later, I finished my article and left Doreen and the rest of the newspaper editors for the last time. It was rewarding working on the school newspaper and although things took twice as long because of everyone’s egos, it was still a valuable high school experience.

Carlos and Sam were walking to the subway. I caught up with them and John also joined us. The four of us had not been together in a few months. We walked by the psychic. She called out Sam’s name. Sam looked at her and kept walking. She said, “Betrayal.”

Sam had been staying at John’s place. The incident with his mother at the dance did not end at school. Sam had shown up on John’s doorstep at midnight looking for a place to stay. Sam had argued with both of his parents after the dance. He and his family exchanged various slaps, pushes, then objects flew, dishes were broken, and various people choked each other. Sam then locked himself in his parents’ room, urinated on their bed, and was consequently thrown out of the house. John took him in. Sam asked persistently if he could spend a few nights at my place and I agreed reluctantly.

“Sam, did you hear that there was cheating on the SATs?” I asked.

“There is an investigation as well,” John said. Sam remained quiet.

“Mr. Mash said that a student came forward to expose the cheaters,” John added.