I cast a longing gaze at the drum elective. The deep-barreled beats tug at my soul as my feet carry me farther away from both electives, toward Introduction to Chinese Medicine. Under the white tent, the humid air is as thick as a blanket. Xavier and some guys I met on the airport shuttle and at dinner last night are passing a steel bottle around. Xavier hands it to Marc Bell-Leong, who flicks his milk-chocolate bangs out of his eyes and takes a pull.
“Is that—?” I ask.
“Drinking age is eighteen in Taiwan.” Xavier slouches with his hands in his pocket.
“Really?”
“Yep.” He tugs out the chair beside him. “Pull up a seat.”
I drop down, less nervous around him after Mandarin. The bottle moves from Marc to politician-Spencer, then Harvard-David, making its way around the table. Looks like my chance to break a rule in broad daylight. But I’ve never even tried alcohol—at Amy Cook’s wedding last month, Mom, who grew up Baptist, whisked both our champagne glasses from under the waiter’s bottle. I hadn’t even questioned her.
“It’s the strong jawline.” Marc runs a thumb and forefinger down his own slender jaw. He’s in conversation with the guys.
“The arm muscles?” David takes a swig and groans, “Ugh, that’s strong.” Scratching at his goatee, he passes the bottle to Sam Brown, a thick-fingered pianist from Detroit whose mom was born in Taipei. David drops onto his fists on the grass and pumps a series of push-ups, grunting each time he rises. Sam passes the bottle back to Marc and drops down beside him and they rise and fall together, acting all macho. I guess it’s working because a few fan dancers stop to watch.
“Show off.” Marc rolls his eyes.
David grunts. “You can’t keep up.”
“Can.” Marc drops down beside them and they hold a contest, three bodies rising and falling like keys on a piano, until Sam collapses with his face in the grass and Marc and David keep pushing. Something about their energy appeals to me, but the one-upping is annoying.
Xavier’s shoulder brushes mine. He leans in. He’s not doing the macho thing, which surprises me, but I like that about him. “There’s a closet where they keep the extra stuff,” he nods toward Chen Laoshi. “I’ll nab you a fan later, if you want.”
“Oh, um.” So he’d noticed. “I don’t want you getting in trouble.”
“Would be my pleasure.” His grin holds a grim edge.
The steel bottle is now with a guy named Peter. Getting closer. A familiar voice reaches my ears and I glance up. Boy Wonder, his NY Giants cap pulled low over his face, is speaking to Chen Laoshi while the fan dancers flick their blue silk fans open and shut like a field of blooming flowers. Chen Laoshi laughs, hugging the basket of fans.
Boy Wonder’s not even in the elective.
What. A. Brown-Noser.
I scooch my chair around to turn my back.
“He’s tall,” Spencer says. “Also the hair on his chest. He’s a rug.”
“Still think it comes back to the strong jawline,” Marc says.
Sophie walks up, tossing her floral blue scarf over her shoulder. “What hottie are you talking about? I want in.” She swings an empty chair over, and settles beside Xavier with a half-wink that only she could pull off.
“Sorry, Sophie,” Marc says. “It’s your cousin so that would just be gross. We’re debating what makes Rick the most masculine Chinese American guy we’ve ever met. Objectively.”
“What a waste of oxygen,” I say, and Xavier snorts.
Sophie laughs. “Hate to break it to you all, but he’s straight. And taken.”
“We’re not after him. Just assessing.”
“Also, he’s Taiwanese American,” Spencer says. “Like me and Xavier.”
“Which is covered by Chinese American,” Marc says.
“I disagree.”
“I’m Asian American,” Sophie says. “I’m part Korean. Ever?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I haven’t really thought about it.” I’m American. I’d never wanted much to do with my Asianness . . . but that was before.
“So if Rick’s masculine, what are the rest of us?” David growls. “Effeminate Asian guys who can’t get girlfriends? I hate that stereotype.”
Marc looks David up and down. “You weigh less than Ever.”
David scowls. I cut him a break and slap the side of my thigh.
“It’s my legs, from ballet. I have more muscle here than all of you put together.”
Sophie bubbles more laughter. David grunts. Marc makes a show of inspecting under the table. “Never want to be on the receiving end of a ballerina’s leg.”
I grin, surprised by my own boldness. I don’t have close guy friends back home. How weird that just a day into Chien Tan, I feel as though I’ve known these guys all my life. Because it’s camp? Because I was shyer back home, and now feel empowered among people who don’t know the awkward history of my adolescence?
Is one of these the guy to kiss?
The steel bottle goes from Xavier to Sophie—and I realize that despite the camaraderie, no one’s even tried to pass it to me.
“You’re all coming Thursday, right?” Sophie says.
“Getting busted in a foreign country is not a headline I need for my future political career,” Spencer says.
“Live a little.” Marc squints at Sophie. “You sure there’s a way out once we’re over the pipe?”
“Ever and I will scope it out.” Sophie passes the bottle over the table to him.
“Hey, Marc.” I reach for the bottle, as Sophie says, “Eleven, meet—oh, ah, hm.”
Li-Han, our instructor, drops a stack of thin-sheeted booklets onto our table’s center. The bottle vanishes into Marc’s shorts. David snatches up a booklet and flips through as Li-Han pushes his black-rimmed glasses closer to his face and moves to the other tables.
I take a booklet, then wish I hadn’t. A human porcupine lies prone on the cover: a naked man with every inch of his backside, from neck to heel, stuck with needles. My stomach heaves and I flip it upside down.
Over by the fan dancers, Chen Laoshi is handing Boy Wonder a blue fan from her basket, smiling flirtatiously. Why shouldn’t she? She’s not that much older, and Boy Wonder probably dropped Yale and football a half dozen times. In flawless Mandarin.
As Chen Laoshi gathers her fan dancers around her, Boy Wonder heads toward us, the folded fan tiny in his hand.
“Speak of the man,” Marc says as Boy Wonder nears.
“Rather not,” I mutter.
“What about me?” Boy Wonder’s brow rises, clueless, and everyone bursts out laughing. “Glad I amuse you,” he drawls.
“You in medicine with us?” Marc asks.
“I’m in drums.” He jerks his head over his shoulder. Then his eyes seek out mine. “Here.” He lobs the fan at me and I, too startled not to, catch it.
“Oh, um—” Before I can stammer a thanks, his phone chimes with a Taylor Swift song, and he snatches it to his ear, knocks off his cap, and catches it with his free hand.
“Jenna! There you are.”
“Can’t she wait? No calls allowed now,” Sophie chides, but with his T-shirt flapping in the wind of his own speed, Rick races off toward the dragon drums.
I open the fan. The scent of rosewood wafts on a soft breeze. The gold threads gleam against the blue silk. I could dance a forest sprite’s caper or the role of a lady in a castle’s courtyard with this.
Li-Han upends a paper bag over our table. A pile of gnarled roots drops out and its bitter dust sets me coughing.
“Cool, what is this?” David snatches one up. He’s serious.
Li-Han answers in Mandarin I can’t understand, nor do I care. Any elective would be better than Intro to Chinese Medicine. Over by the dragon drummers, Boy Wonder paces with his phone to his ear, smiling, his stupid, strong jaw backlit by the sun. A line of kids balancing oars on shoulders march by—the dragon boat racing elective—concealing him from view. When they pass, Benji and another g
uy are trying to lift the oversized Chinese lion head, its large eyes batting coyly, onto Boy Wonder’s head while he ducks out of range at superhuman speed, and spins a full circle for good measure.
“Jeez, you’re fast!” The guys are awed. Rick is laughing, phone glued to his ear. One day into Chien Tan and he’s not only dodging demerits for illegal phone use, he’s got a fan club.
But that club doesn’t include me.
I toss the fan to Sophie, who’s stood to head to her cooking elective.
“You take it,” I say. “It matches your scarf.”
10
I can’t wear this.
Thursday night, I gaze at my reflection in the mirror Sophie bought for a dollar and taped to our door. Sophie, generous to a fault, gave me a makeover fit for a queen. My smoky eyelids and pouty lips, by my prudish Ohio standards, could get me arrested.
But it’s my outfit that scares me most. The ribbon of pale skin gleams between my skirt’s waistband and the skimpy black corset top that exposes those diamonds of skin on my back. I’d fallen in love at the market, and was all set to break the dress-modestly rule, but I can’t go out in something so . . . revealing—
“We better head down. It’s almost eleven.” Sophie puckers her lips at her reflection and applies a second coat of lipstick. Her gold lamé dress glitters. “Xavier and Matteo are meeting us by the kitchen.” There’s been a quadrangle of flirting in Mandarin all week, from Xavier to me and Sophie to him to Matteo—par for course all over Loveboat. The gossip chain is buzzing loops about who’s after whom, and tonight, I can’t help feeling, will set more in motion.
“Give me a minute.” From my drawer, I pull my soft black shirt with its quarter-length sleeves. I pull it on, covering my bare shoulders, midriff, corset seam. My phone on my dresser chimes.
Pearl: Mom and Dad driving me nuts summer reading schools 2 months away wish you were here did you find a dance studio
The missing punctuation marks tells me she’s dictating her text and having her laptop read to her, which she does to help with her dyslexia.
Me: Hang in there. If you read them now, they can’t be on your case anymore. I found a studio but too expensive, still looking
Pearl: theyll find something else
Me: Ugh, I know. Hang in there. Love u!
“Ready?” Sophie grabs the doorknob, then frowns at me. “We’re going clubbing. You’re going to be too hot in that.”
I set my phone down beside two notes from Mei-Hwa to call my parents, which I’ve ignored. My legs flash in the mirror under my black chiffon skirt, an unseemly amount of skin. I tug my skirt down farther.
“I don’t get hot,” I lie.
“Are you sure—”
A knock sounds. Sophie tugs on the stubborn door. “Oh for heaven’s sake,” she fumes, then yanks with both hands and the door flies open. Boy Wonder, hair rumpled carelessly, steps through in a fitted canary-yellow polo over black pants.
Sophie throws up her hands. “Yellow. Rick, I give up.”
He grins, a sallow picture of innocence. She was right—yellow is so not Boy Wonder’s color. If the game tonight is dress to impress, he’s not playing.
Which, if he were any other guy, would be sort of impressive.
“I’m just here to chaperone, remember. Besides, you look nice enough for the both of us.” He catches my eye.
“Ever.” His eyes widen. I’m suddenly conscious of my magnified eyes and lips, the way my black shirt hugs my long torso and the skirt shows off my legs. His bear brows knit over his forehead in a scowl. “Your ribbon’s undone.”
“Oh.” I reach behind for the knot Sophie tied earlier.
“Here.” Boy Wonder comes around to my back, his voice impatient. My corset jerks tight around my rib cage as he knots my ribbons below the hem of my overshirt, once, twice, extra-secure. Like I’m twelve and he’s my dad. Utter humiliation.
And he doesn’t even notice. Next thing I know, he’s peering out the doorway.
“Coast is clear. Come on.”
A sliver of moon hangs in the sky as we emerge from the dormitory into the narrow lot behind the kitchen. The ivy-covered wall rises before us and the sour stink of trash wrinkles my nose. I keep moving past a twig broom, stacks of plastic crates, and a truck-sized dumpster, putting as much distance as I can between me and Boy Wonder.
But the others are close behind. As I reach the building’s edge, Xavier glides into the moonlight beside me. His hand is in his pocket, wrinkling his designer black shirt that glints with silver threads. His dark eyes cut to me and a smile curves the corner of his lip.
“I like the skirt, Ever.”
Unlike Boy Wonder, he’s dressed for clubbing. His opal stud gleams on his ear—my parents would so disapprove of me standing anywhere in his vicinity. My hand strays self-consciously to the back of my corset, though he can’t see the diamonds of skin there. I force myself to return his gaze evenly.
“I like the attitude.”
“Mr. Yeh.” Sophie tucks her arm through his. “Good of you to join us.”
His corner-smile deepens, as if he can’t be bothered with the effort of a full one. His arm brushes mine as he moves ahead. I inhale the musky scent of cologne and my stomach dips—everything about tonight feels new and dangerous.
“Sauvage by Dior,” Sophie whispers. “Isn’t he yummy?”
“Ever, do something for me, okay?” Boy Wonder’s voice, close enough to tickle the back of my earlobe, makes me jump.
“What?” My voice comes out uneven. He smells like the outdoors. Like grass and freedom.
“Keep your distance from Xavier.”
“What?” I turn to him but our noses bump and I spring back with a small yelp.
Before he can answer, a crowd of kids comes between us—ten, then fifteen, then two or three dozen—sexy in sequins, bangles, lots of pale, moonlit skin. Way more than I was expecting. Someone giggles, then is shushed by a dozen voices. Just ahead, Xavier’s leaning against the ivy-covered wall, thumb hooked in his belt loop, talking with Laura sans Yankees cap, and Debra, both cute in little black dresses.
Everyone’s ready to break loose, except Rick-the-Chaperone.
The more I think about it, the more his warning annoys me—once again, it’s exactly something my parents would say. Yes, Xavier might be a Player, but that also might make him the perfect guy to break a few rules with tonight.
“Where next?” Debra shakes back her blue hair.
I banish Boy Wonder-the-Chaperone from my mind. “The catwalk. There’s a ladder. Sophie and I checked it out. Once we cross the river, look for cabs.”
“And keep quiet,” Sophie adds.
We slip along the wall toward the concrete pillar with its ladder leading into the night sky. There’s one flaw to our escape plan. The moon shines like a spotlight on the blue pipe. Which means that for the entire two minutes it should take to cross the catwalk, we’ll be exposed to every river-facing window of Chien Tan.
“Good thing there are so many of us,” I whisper as Sophie begins to climb, the heels of her stilettos hanging off each rung. “They can’t send us all home.” But a knot cinches in my middle.
The ladder runs up into a metal tunnel formed of curved rails. It smells of rust. As I climb, a breeze whips my chiffon skirt against the backs of my thighs. I clutch it tight, silently hurrying Sophie, hyperaware of Boy Wonder’s weight on the rungs below. Why didn’t I let him go first?
But at last, I scramble over the pillar’s top, three stories high, where the winds whip hair into my eyes. “Hang on,” I call. The wind steals the words from my mouth, and sweeps the earthy, slightly fishy scent of the river at me. I grab hold of the painted rail and peer into the dark waters below. Then wish I hadn’t. At the twist of vertigo, I yank my eyes back toward the sea of lights beckoning from Taipei ahead. The promised land. A line of silhouettes are already filing across the catwalk.
“Hurry,” Sophie murmurs. I clutch the rail and focus on taking one
step after another on the metal grid. My back prickles with the imaginary eyes of Chien Tan windows.
“They’ve reached the other side.” Boy Wonder’s ticklishly close voice makes me jump again. I need to stop overreacting to every little thing he does. Seriously.
“Cool,” I say coolly.
I take another cautious step after Sophie. Another. Another. Another.
Then a rattling shakes the catwalk beneath my heels. The force sends me crashing into Sophie’s sweat-soaked back. She emits a yelp as I fight for balance. My foot slips off an edge. My ribs hit steel and my shoe flies off, arcing toward the black waters. Scrambling for a hold, I catch a handful of air, then Boy Wonder’s arm encircles my waist, halting my trajectory like a seat belt.
Down below, the darkness swallows my shoe like a silent river god.
“You okay?” His mouth against my ear shoots a shiver into my tailbone as he rights me. “Your shoe. Maybe we should go back.”
“No. Way.” I yank free and tug off my other shoe. My heart pounds. He’s blocking my way now.
He frowns. “You’ll cut your feet—”
“Oh my God, I don’t need a chaperone—”
A beam of light flits over the catwalk ahead.
Sophie swears. “Someone’s awake.”
I look back over my shoulder—and the beam catches me full in the face.
“Go,” I yell. “Go go go!”
Spots swim in my vision and I drop my other shoe. I shove past Boy Wonder, grab Sophie’s shoulders and stumble us across the last yards, cringing with every clank. The catwalk rattles and shakes with the rush of students behind us.
We drop into an empty parking lot surrounded by a concrete wall, lit by a row of five street lamps. A tabby cat shoots off with an ear-piercing yowl. It escapes out a gate flanked by two stone pillars, which open onto a street.
I should feel panicked, but instead, a laugh tickles my throat. “We’re crazy!” Beside me, Sophie gasps for breath. “Come on.” I grab her hand and pull her along. The gravel is hard and cold beneath my feet.
“I’ll find a cab.” Boy Wonder brushes against me as he lopes past. “Watch the glass.”
Just in time, I dart around the broken bottle.
Loveboat, Taipei Page 7