Year of the Rat

by Grace Lin

  “Yuck,” Melody said as she made a face at her stew. “Poor soldiers. They had a hard life.”

  I nodded, but I couldn’t help thinking about the hard life I would have if Melody moved. I pushed my stew under the sleeping platform and drew a rat in the cold dirt with a stick.

  “Have your parents decided if you’re going to move to California?” I asked.

  “They don’t know yet,” Melody said. “My father’s company wants to send him to California for a big promotion and transfer someone from their office in China here. They’d even pay for us to move, and the Chinese family would rent our house.”

  “Someone else would live in your house?” I said, horrified.

  “I know,” Melody said as she chewed the stew meat fiercely. “Can you believe it? Someone else living in MY house, someone else living in MY room!”

  “It’s like the Redcoats forcing the colonists to house them!” I said. “The enemy would be taking over your house.”

  “Yeah,” Melody said, scowling at her stew. “I hope the enemy stays far, far away.”

  I hoped so, too. Because deep down, when I thought about facing the Year of the Rat without Melody, my heart beat like the drum call of the First Sergeant. I just hoped it wasn’t the drumbeat that warned that the enemy was coming.

  Chapter 5

  Max’s Birthday

  I HAD BEEN SO WORRIED ABOUT MELODY moving, that I forgot that we were going to Albany for my cousin Max’s birthday. He was turning one year old. Albany was far away, but not so far that I got to miss school. Two years ago we had gone to my Cousin Albert’s birthday party in New Jersey and got to miss two days of school. Since Cousin Max lived closer, we were only going to be away for the weekend.

  But even though Max didn’t live that far away, it was nighttime when we got to his house. Actually, I don’t remember getting to his house because I fell asleep in the car. When I woke up in the morning, I was in bed and the sunlight was streaming through the windows, casting a lace pattern shadow of branches on my face and pillow. Lissy and Ki-Ki were beside me, snoring a musical duet. But it wasn’t their snores that woke me up, it was the doorbell ringing. I poked my head out of the room and heard the footsteps of a crowd of people answering the door.

  “Kim!” I heard Uncle Leo say. “Ja-ba, bei?”

  Ja-ba, bei means “Have you eaten yet?” in Taiwanese. But it also means “Good to see you!” and that meant people were arriving for Max’s party already! I went back to the room and shook Ki-Ki and Lissy awake.

  “Wake up,” I told them. “Max’s party started already. They’re starting the party without us!”

  And as we scrambled downstairs, we saw all our relatives. Everyone was there—Uncle Leo, Aunt Judy, two-year-old Albert . . . The house felt like a bulging bag of uncooked rice about to burst. Even Cousin Clifford was there! Cousin Clifford was our favorite cousin. He was older than us, but not a real adult yet. We hadn’t seen him in a long time. The last time I saw him, he was graduating from college with a black robe, a funny hat, and a big smile with sparkling eyes. Now, he looked pretty much the same, except not in a black robe.

  “Did you start the party without us?” Ki-Ki demanded.

  “No,” Mom said, and laughed. “We were just getting everything ready. Look, even Max was waiting for you—he’s just coming out now.”

  When Auntie Sue brought Max out of his room and everyone clapped and some of us yelled, “Happy Birthday!” Max smiled, and his round face reminded me of a ripe peach—soft and pink and fuzzy. He was so cute, I couldn’t help going up to him and hugging him. He felt squashy and lumpy, like a pillow full of soft sand.

  Max wobbled, with his arms out like a mummy, and his shoes thudded on the ground with each step. His shoes were funny. Grandma had sent them from Taiwan. They were bright green, the color of moss in the sun, with big eyes and pointed ears embroidered on them with red, yellow, blue, and white thread.

  “Max has cat shoes!” I said.

  “They’re not cat shoes,” Mom corrected me. “They’re tiger shoes.”

  “But he wasn’t born in the Year of the Tiger,” I said. “I was. Did Grandma get mixed up?”

  “No,” Mom said. “Tigers are lucky for children. They protect them. The tigers on Max’s shoes are to protect him from hurting himself while he walks. That’s also why the tigers’ eyes are so big—so they can look out for trouble.”

  “I don’t think they’re helping,” I said as I watched Max stumble over the edge of the rug.

  “You don’t know,” Mom said, smiling. “He might be doing a lot worse if he didn’t have them.”

  “Since I was born in the Year of the Tiger, does that mean I’m lucky for myself?” I asked.

  “Hmm,” Mom said. “Tigers are lucky for little children. I think you are too old now for tiger luck. I think, instead, you are lucky for Max. You are probably a very good babysitter.”

  I liked being a good babysitter. I held Max’s hands as he took one uneasy step after another, and he smiled at me as I walked him from room to room. When he was tired, I read him books and drew pictures with him. I wanted to make sure I kept practicing for my own books. Max liked the drawing, though all he did was scribble.

  But the whole time I couldn’t stop thinking about my own tiger luck. If tigers were only lucky for little children, did that mean that every year I got older, I would get unluckier? When did I stop being lucky? When did it all change?

  Chapter 6

  Destiny

  “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, “ AUNTIE SUE SANG AS we finished eating our lunch. We had eaten pink and brown cold meats, dried jellyfish that looked like pieces of unraveled yellow rope, a thick white soup with black specks of pepper floating in it, a whole chicken roasted chestnut brown, vegetables that looked like they had been dipped in syrup, glazed shrimp, and shining noodles. The noodles were extra long because they were long-life birthday noodles— the longer they were the longer the life they symbolized. I ate a lot of those noodles. I wasn’t sure if that meant I’d have a long life, but I suspected I’d have a fat one. I was completely full!

  But I did have room for dessert. Auntie Sue was bringing in the cake; its frosting was smooth and white. Pink frosted roses, the color of a strawberry milk shake, decorated the four corners; and a single candle with a flickering orange flame stuck out from the center.

  We all began singing, except for Uncle Phil, who was busy stopping Max from grabbing one of the frosted flowers. I was glad Uncle Phil didn’t let Max destroy the cake, even though it was his birthday—I wanted one of those flowers.

  While the cake was being served and eaten, everyone started clapping and laughing.

  “What’s going on?” Ki-Ki asked.

  “The fun is starting,” Clifford told her. “Uncle Leo has taken out the destiny plate.”

  The destiny plate was the shiny black and red cover of an old tray. The actual plate wasn’t important; it was what we put on it that was used for fortunetelling. This was supposed to predict what Max’s job was going to be in the future. We’d put all kinds of different things on the tray, and whatever he chose would tell us what he’d be when he grew up. We all watched with jokes and laughter as Uncle Leo held up the tray.

  “What should we put on the tray?” he asked, his face wrinkled in a smile. “What do we want Max to be when he grows up?”

  Uncle Leo collected items from everyone. Each thing symbolized a different job. He put a book on the tray, to signify a teacher. He eagerly borrowed Uncle Shin’s stethoscope, to represent a doctor. He put a toy truck on the tray, to stand for a mechanic; a paint-brush for an artist; and money for a businessman. He made Aunt Kim choose the shiniest coins in her pocketbook.

  “I want them to catch Max’s eye,” he laughed. “He can be our family millionaire.”

  Even arranging the items was a big joke.

  “Put the stethoscope closer to him,” Uncle Shin called out. “We want another doctor!”

  “Move that paintbrush
to the edge,” Dad said. “We don’t want him to choose the cold door!”

  “What does that mean, the ‘cold door’?” I asked. I was a little bothered because I had already decided that I was going to be a writer and an artist when I grew up, and now Dad was saying he didn’t want Max to be one.

  “When they say you choose the cold door, it means you are choosing the harder life,” Clifford explained. “The idea is that there are many doors you can choose to walk through—all being different kinds of lives. A lot of people think if you choose to become an artist, you are choosing a harder life—poor and shivering. You know how they always say ‘starving artists’? So, being an artist is a cold door.”

  I didn’t like that. I pictured myself opening a freezer door and being forced inside. It didn’t seem that nice. Was that my destiny?

  “What are you so worried about?” Clifford said.

  “I want to be an artist,” I told him. “But I don’t want to walk through the cold door.”

  “Well, you have a long time to decide. I wouldn’t worry about it; a lot of things can change before you have to choose,” Clifford said, then he grinned at me. “Besides, any cold door you walk through is sure to be warmer than upstate New York in the winter.”

  I laughed, even though I was still worried. But I tried not to think about it because Max’s tray was finally ready. Every carefully chosen item finally had a place everyone agreed on. Now, it was up to Max.

  Auntie Sue wiped Max’s hands with a clean napkin. She had let him grab the flowers off his own piece of cake, so his face was covered with pink and white frosting. We all watched as she moved Max’s plate and put the destiny tray in front of him.

  Max, however, was watching his half-eaten cake. He let out a bawl, ignored everything on the destiny tray, and reached out for his cake! Everyone laughed.

  “Let him have the cake,” Uncle Phil told Auntie Sue. “Then, maybe he will take something off the tray.”

  So, Auntie Sue let Max have his cake back, which he quickly smashed onto his face. As he finished demolishing it, he looked in confusion at all of us staring at him.

  “Pick something from the tray,” Auntie Sue encouraged him, tapping the tray so that the items clinked. With one chubby hand full of cake, Max reached out and grabbed . . . the stethoscope! A big cheer went up in the room.

  “A doctor!” Uncle Leo said. “Max will be a doctor!”

  “I don’t believe it,” I told Clifford. “Max didn’t really choose the stethoscope first. He chose the cake first. Maybe he’ll be a baker.”

  “Hmm, maybe,” Clifford said. “But we’re going to have to wait a long time before we know who’s right.”

  Chapter 7

  Clifford’s Destiny

  “SPEAKING OF DESTINY,” CLIFFORD ANNOUNCED as everyone was finishing their cake. “I have something I want to tell you all.”

  Everyone stopped eating and looked up. This was a change. Clifford never made speeches before.

  “Well,” Clifford said, taking a deep breath, “you know how I have been working in Taiwan since I graduated from college? Well, I met a girl there and I’ve asked her to marry me, and she said yes!”

  After that, no one could hear anything. Everyone roared with questions and laughter. “Is she pretty?” “What does she do?” “Where is she now?” “Where are you going to get married?” Clifford had to hold his hand up like a teacher to make everyone listen to him.

  “Her name is Lian,” Clifford said. “Right now she is in Taiwan, but she is coming here next week.”

  “When are you going to get married? Lissy asked.

  “We’re hoping this summer,” Clifford said. “After your school is over so that everyone can come. I want everyone to meet her.”

  “Did you get her a diamond ring?” Ki-Ki asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Clifford said. “A big one. So much that now I am poor and don’t know where we can afford to get married.”

  “Get married at our house!” I yelled. “Then I can be a bridesmaid.”

  Clifford just laughed as he was swallowed up by hugs from Aunt Kim and Auntie Sue. But I wasn’t joking; I really wanted to be a bridesmaid. Then I could get a fancy dress and a bouquet. I never had a real bouquet before. That was something I wouldn’t have minded changing in the Year of the Rat.

  Chapter 8

  Melody’s Fate

  WHEN I WENT TO SCHOOL ON MONDAY AND saw Melody, I knew she had bad news. Her face looked like it did when we lost the science fair.

  “My parents said we’re going to move,” she told me. “My dad says it’s too good an opportunity to pass up.”

  “All of you have to go?” I asked stupidly. I felt as if the ice-cold drops of a melting icicle were dripping on me.

  “Yes,” Melody said. “The enemy is coming to take over our house in two months.”

  “Two months! That’s too soon!” I said. “You’ll miss everything—the last class project, your report card! You can’t go!”

  “I know,” Melody said, kicking the dirt with her feet. “But my parents said some things can’t be helped. My dad has to be there when the job starts.”

  “I can’t believe it,” I said. “Maybe my parents can talk to your parents. Maybe they could get them to change their minds.”

  “Okay!” Melody said hopefully.

  “I know my parents could talk to them,” I said, and the more I thought about it the more sure I was. “The Year of the Rat is about changes, so maybe it’s about changing their minds too!”

  But when I talked to Mom and Dad about it at dinner, they didn’t say anything I wanted them to say.

  “If Melody’s parents want to move,” Mom said, “it’s their business. We will miss them, but we can’t tell them what to do.”

  “Why not?” I asked. My frustration bubbled inside of me like boiling soup.

  “Why can’t you talk to her parents? I don’t want Melody to move!”

  “Pacy,” Mom said, “calm down. Just because Melody is moving doesn’t mean you can’t stay friends with her.”

  “It’s not fair,” I said. “Can’t we do anything to change things?”

  “Remember what Melody’s mom said about the Year of the Rat,” Mom said. “It’s the time for new beginnings and changes.”

  “I hate the Year of the Rat,” I said. “And Melody resolved to stay in New Hartford. One of her resolutions is already broken.”

  “Ah, well,” Dad said. “You have to be resigned to your fate. It looks like moving to California is Melody’s fate. And no resolution can fight that.”

  Chapter 9

  Moving Melody

  AFTER THAT EVERYTHING SEEMED TO CHANGE. Melody couldn’t come over as much anymore because she had to pack up her stuff. When I went over to her house, everything was in boxes. One weekend, while Dad played golf and Lissy went to the mall, Mom, Ki-Ki, and I went over to Melody’s house to help them pack. Mrs. Pan and Sandy Pan came over to help, too. The Pans were another Taiwanese family that we knew; Sandy was Ki-Ki’s friend. They lived in Syracuse, which was an hour away from New Hartford, so we didn’t see them that often. If Melody hadn’t been moving, packing would’ve been fun.

  Ki-Ki, Sandy, Benji, and Felix packed the family room, where all the toys were, and Mom, Mrs. Pan, and Melody’s mom packed the living room. Melody and I packed the things in her room. Before we started packing, I told Melody about what my dad said about artists and the cold door.

  “So does the cold door mean being poor?” Melody asked.

  “I think so,” I said. “Clifford said it was the harder life, that artists are starving.”

  “But, you don’t exactly want to be an artist,” Melody said. “You want to make the pictures in books. That can’t be the same.”

  “You think so?” I asked, not convinced.

  “Well, if you’re that worried about it you can change your mind,” Melody said. “It is the Year of the Rat; maybe this is the year you change what you want to be.”

&nbs
p; But I didn’t want to change that; being an author and illustrator was the one thing I was sure of. Or at least I thought so. Now, I was starting to doubt it.

  “Are you two packing up there?” Melody’s mom called. “Make sure you work and talk, not just talk!”

  Melody and I looked at each other guiltily. “Yes!” Melody called back as I giggled. “We’ve filled lots of boxes!”

  “Don’t fill them all with your books,” Melody’s mom said. “You have too many. Give Pacy some of your books, maybe half.”

  I was kind of excited when I heard that. Melody and I both loved books, and she had a lot of good ones. I liked getting half of them. It was easy for me to choose the books that I wanted. It wasn’t so easy for Melody, though.

  “Can I take this one?” I said, pointing at one book.

  “No, I love that one,” Melody said. “Pick a different one.”

  “Okay, how about this one?” I said.

  “No, I love that one too,” she said. “Pick another.”

  “This one?” I said.

  “No,” she said, “not that one. I really love that one.” “You love ALL of them!”I said. “There’s none for me to take!”

  We both began to laugh. Then we stopped because we both felt sad.

  “I don’t want to give up my books,” Melody said. And I felt like I wouldn’t have minded buying my own copies of all of Melody’s books if it meant she wouldn’t have to move.