by Grace Lin
The night before she came, I couldn’t sleep. I was so excited! I felt like a popcorn kernel about to pop. But I was a little worried, too. Maybe we had both changed so much that we wouldn’t be such good friends anymore. On my bed, I could see the night turn into morning out my window—a streak of light was spreading across the grim sky, like milk just poured into tea. As soon as the last bit of grayness faded away, I jumped out of bed to get everyone up. We had to go pick up Melody at the airport!
We got to the airport early and waited and waited. Melody’s plane was late and I had almost given up hope that she was coming, but then she popped through the gate doors. She saw me and gave me a wide grin, as big as a watermelon slice; relief rushed through me. Nothing had changed. Melody still knew me and I still knew her. And when we were together again it was like she had never left. She looked exactly the same, except she was shorter. “I’m not shorter,” she said when I told her this. “You’re taller!”
We talked so fast to each other that Mom thought we were speaking another language. I told Melody everything I had already told her over the phone again, and all the things I had saved up to tell her— how I got an A+ on my Giant Panda book, how Dun-Wei replaced Kurt as the quarterback for the school football team when Kurt skipped too many practices, and how Sam Mercer smiled at me at lunch and told me the poster I did for the Black Spiders band was “awesome.” I even told her about how I had decided Dun-Wei wasn’t the enemy, and how I wasn’t afraid of the cold door anymore.
Melody told me how in California it was so warm that at Christmastime she wore a T-shirt; there were so many cute boys there, even Asian boys—especially a boy named Gregory Chen who had long black hair—and that at the supermarket you could choose the fish you wanted from the tank and the butcher would hit it with a club to kill it for you. Everything was completely fascinating. It seemed like another world.
We talked so much that I didn’t help Mom at all with the Chinese New Year dinner. Mom said it was okay, that I hadn’t seen Melody in such a long time that I could just spend time with her. Besides, Melody’s mom was helping. Though she probably wasn’t enjoying it. I could hear Mom frying lots of unhealthy food.
“Time to eat!” Mom called.
Giggling and laughing, Melody and I came down the stairs. Lissy finished setting the table while Ki-Ki carefully scooped rice into bowls. The scoops of white rice were so perfectly rounded from the spoon that they looked like snowballs. Melody’s mom set down the big bowl of bird’s nest soup on the table with the red-brown roasted duck, purple egg-plant shining with brown sauce that looked like syrup, leafy broccoli, golden pan-fried fish, the glistening jade-green cabbage and steamed light pink dumplings. All the rich, fried aromas mixed together and I smelled the familiar scent of Chinese New Year.
“Ah, it’s nice to be together again for Chinese New Year, isn’t it?” Dad said as we all sat down at the table. “I think that’s the most important lesson of the Nian monster.”
“What monster?” I asked.
“The Nian monster,” Dad said. “The whole reason why we celebrate Chinese New Year.”
THE NIAN MONSTER
A long time ago, a fierce monster that could eat up an entire village in one swallow lived in the mountains. More ferocious and wild than any dragon or unicorn, he only woke and fed one time a year, on the lunar New Year. But the horror and destruction he caused were unimaginable. All year long the people lived in fear and dread.
So when the days got closer and closer to Nian’s feeding time, people began to despair.
“There must be something we can do to save ourselves and stop the Nian monster,” they said. But what? The Nian monster was so strong and so enormous, no one could fight it. It would be worse than ants attacking a dragon. And the Nian monster came silently in the night, without warning. It wouldn’t matter if they had an army fighting for them; the village would be destroyed before anyone even knew it. It was hopeless.
But one day, a wise old man came to the village.
“I know how you can survive the Nian monster,” he said. “It is afraid of light, the color red, and loud noises. On the night it wakes, you must cover your homes in red banners, light red lanterns, play loud drums, and set off firecrackers. It will scare Nian away and you will live another cycle.”
The people thanked the old man and did as he said. They hung brilliant red banners, the color of a cooked crab shell, over their door and windows. They lit so many lanterns that their village looked as if it were on fire. They pounded their drums as if they were dangerous beasts and their fireworks deafened even those miles away. But even as they did this, they were afraid. What if the old man was wrong? What if all this failed and the Nian destroyed them?
So as the sun burned away from the sky like a dying coal, all feared it would be their last night on earth. They ate their favorite foods and wore their best clothes. Arguments were forgiven and debts were paid. Friends and family gathered together to be with each other one last time.
But when the light of the sun cracked through the dark sky, there was a great rejoicing! The old man had been right. The Nian monster had come and gone, scared by the red banners and loud noises. All were alive and the village was saved!
From then on, the New Year was celebrated this way. On the night when the Nian monster was to come, homes were decorated with red banners, favorite foods were eaten, and friends and family gathered together.
“And, that is why we call Chinese New Year ‘Guo Nian,’” Dad finished. “It means ‘Survive the year’ or really, ‘surviving the Nian monster.’”
“Well, Happy Guo Nian!” Melody said, giving me a look. “We survived the changes of the Year of the Rat!”
“I guess the Year of the Rat did bring some changes,” Dad said. “But the important things, like family and true friends, never change.”
I thought about that. The Year of the Rat had brought a lot of changes and worries—Melody moving, Dun-Wei coming, my talent, and the cold door. A lot of them I hadn’t liked and had made me uncomfortable or nervous. But I had survived.
And, looking around the table at Mom, Dad, Melody, Melody’s mom, Ki-Ki, and even Lissy, I realized what Dad said was true. The important things never changed. I felt like I finally understood what Dad meant when he talked about fate and destiny and wishes and resolutions. The love of my friends and family was my fate, but I had the power to change and shape my destiny.
“Gong Xi Gong Xi Xin Nian Hao!” Melody said as she clinked her glass with mine: “Wishing you a good new year!”
“Wishing ALL of us a good New Year!” I said. But I didn’t need the good wishes. I grinned at everyone around the table, confident and sure. I knew this next new year was going to be good; in fact, all the new years after this were going to be great. I’d make sure of it.
Author’s Note
When I first began to receive responses from my first novel (this book’s predecessor), The Year of the Dog, I was overwhelmed. “The Year of the Dog is a story kind of like my life,” one girl told me. “I tried to read it slow so it wouldn’t end.”
And as she said that, I realized I didn’t want the story to end either.
Because characters in books become friends to me; it’s as if they are real people with real lives. Would I have loved Anne from Anne of Green Gablesas much if I had gotten to know her through only one book? Or even Laura from Little House in the Big Woods? In fact, I was devastated that there were only nine books. I wanted to know what else happened.
So I decided to continue the story. However, even though the cover of this book says it is by me, it is really a shared ownership. Of course, I wrote the words, the sentences, crafted the plot and the dialogue. But the soul of the story isn’t mine alone. It belongs to a number of people—my mother, my father, my sisters, my teachers, and my friends.
One friend in particular, however, does more than just share the story with me. Melody has a real-life counterpart—Alvina Ling, my best friend from childhood who grew up, got a j
ob at a publishing company, and became my editor for this book (and The Year of the Dog).
The Year of the Rat is about change, resolution, destiny, and fate. Why did we tear Melody and Pacy apart, sending Melody to California and leaving Pacy alone? Because it really happened! Alvina moved to California and we lived on either coasts of the United States for many years. Distance and time usually fades relationships, but we were determined to remain friends. Letters (and later e-mails) flew back and forth, until we were adults with careers in the same industry. And when I put pen to paper for my novel, it seemed to be destiny when Alvina was able to acquire it and become my editor. Somehow, we were fated to create these books and together tell “what else happened.”
I hope you like it!
Best Wishes,
Grace Lin