“But have only four more weeks. All those hits and nobody say yes?” Wen asked.
“Not yet, but lots of activity, Wen. I’ve also had six or seven families call me directly, to ask more about her. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything.”
Hits, Wen thought as she clicked her phone shut. When would one of those hits lead to a family who picked Shu Ling?
A couple of days later, a letter arrived from Shu Ling. Wen tore open the envelope.
Dear Mei Mei,
I just got your letter and then yesterday, Auntie Lan Lan told me you had called. Yes, I am thirteen years old after all. She and I went over the file together. I wanted to be sure. And all those years we thought I was just a year older than you!
I am so sad I cannot be in your family. But it is OK, Wen. We’ll visit each other in America and still see each other. I like the idea of spending summers with each other. We’ll still find ways to be together. That’s what matters.
Auntie Lan Lan told me about the age-out rule. Me being thirteen is bad for getting me a family, right? Just do your best, mei mei. I know you will.
Love,
Shu Ling
P.S. If you can’t find me a family, don’t feel bad. I could always be an auntie.
“I could always be an auntie,” Shu Ling had said one day last spring, just after Wen got picked for adoption. They were collecting smooth pebbles near the orphanage walkway.
“On your feet all day?” Wen had asked. “Don’t you see how tired the aunties get standing so long, especially when they’re older?”
Wen looked discreetly at Shu Ling’s turned-in leg. How many hours a day could Shu Ling work, with that twisted leg?
“Besides,” Wen continued, “you always get so attached to all the babies, Shu Ling, and when the sick ones die, you get sad for such a long time. If you were an auntie your whole life, you’d get your heart broken, over and over.”
“But if I am not an auntie, then what?” Shu Ling had sighed, sifting through some pebbles.
“Well, think of the other older girls who left. Li Wei and Chen went to work at the chemical plant up north,” Wen said.
“I could do that, mei mei,” said Shu Ling.
Wen thought, then shook her head. “The fumes made those girls sick and they had to quit.”
Shu Ling put down a stone, selected another, then tossed it away too. “Jin Jing worked as a coal mining receptionist.”
Until the coal dust blackened her lungs, Wen thought to herself.
“Mei Lin became a manicurist in the city. Somebody would hire me, Wen,” Shu Ling said.
Wen patted Shu Ling’s arm but said nothing. She had heard too much from Director Feng. People like him wouldn’t hire Shu Ling, not with a disability like her leg.
“Shu Ling, what you really need is a family. Remember our agreement? Whoever got picked first would find a family for the other. It’s up to me now. I give you my word, Shu Ling! I’ll find you a family as soon as I get to America,” Wen had vowed.
Now Wen counted on her fingers. Three weeks and five days left. And then, if Shu Ling was still without a family, Wen would have broken that promise forever.
twenty-one
“Wen,” Hannah whispered in class on Friday afternoon as they got out boards and clay to work on their anatomy project. “Can you come to my house tomorrow? I just got a cool new jewelry kit.”
“Make jewelry?” Wen widened her eyes.
“Even earrings!”
Should she go to Hannah’s? What about following Shu Ling’s photo online? There wasn’t much time left to find Shu Ling a family. Maybe there were some advocacy blogs she’d missed.
Still, Hannah had invited her to come. And Wen had always longed to make jewelry.
“I come. Short while,” Wen said.
“Hannah and Wen, are you working over there?” asked Ms. Beckwith.
“We’re really working, Ms. Beckwith.” Hannah nudged Wen with her elbow. “We just shaped the kidney, like a kidney bean, right, Wen?”
“Yes,” Wen chimed in. “And made some veins, very thin.”
“So you’ll come, right?” Hannah whispered.
“Be there.” Wen molded a long esophagus and, together, they placed it on the board.
“This poor person could use some jewelry.” Hannah giggled. “Especially a necklace.”
Wen clapped her hand over her mouth, so Ms. Beckwith wouldn’t hear her laughter.
Wen couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed like that. Her laughter felt like little bubbles, rising and fizzing inside her.
The next day, Wen walked over to Hannah’s with some red velvet cupcakes Emily had left over from a class party.
“Oh, yum, cupcakes!” Hannah said. She led Wen to her bedroom, which had a bed covered with veils.
“You sleep like princess!” Wen exclaimed.
“Yeah. A princess with two houses.” Hannah went to the kitchen and came back with napkins for the cupcakes. “Here’s the kit. See, we have lots and lots of beads, every color.”
“These are jewelry you have made? So beautiful!” Wen marveled at the sparkly necklaces hanging from a small tree made of white iron.
“I do jewelry all the time.”
The girls sat on Hannah’s bed and dumped out the little boxes of beads between them.
“Oh, love the diamond ones.” Wen picked up a sparkly bead that glimmered in the sunlight.
“These black ones are nice too.” Hannah put a shiny black droplet in Wen’s palm. “So you make up your design, like which colors you’re going to use, and then you cut some wire with these scissors,” said Hannah.
“Where you get this kit?” Wen scooped up as many sparkly blue and purple diamonds as she could find.
“My dad. I guess he feels bad because he doesn’t see me that much.” Hannah bit into a cupcake and lowered her voice. “Last year, you know what I made him?”
Wen glanced at Hannah, her curly head bent low, her long fingers sliding bead after bead onto the silver wire in her lap.
“I made him a tie clip out of shiny black beads. I thought it would look cool in his business meetings and all. Then maybe he’d see how much I wished he’d come back, you know?”
Wen nodded. “He liked the tie clip?”
“He said he did. But after he left, Wen, I found it in its box, under the bed. He didn’t even take it.”
“No!” Wen protested. “This you made for your father, special. He was wrong to do this.”
“So too bad for him. That was his last chance.” Hannah peered over at Wen, who was stringing a long necklace of diamond beads. “Is that for your friend in China?”
Wen nodded. “Found her on Web site but no family pick her yet. Just three and a half weeks left.”
“That stinks,” Hannah said. “Hey, show me the Web site.”
Hannah opened her laptop and Wen went to the Worldwide Adoptions Web site and clicked on Shu Ling’s page.
“Wow!” Hannah held the laptop closer. “She drew this amazing picture?”
“Very good artist,” said Wen.
“And all the stuff you wrote about her, Wen!” Hannah exclaimed.
“You like it?” Wen asked.
“Yes! Shu Ling is on the Internet, Wen! The Internet goes all over the whole world, you know that, right? Everywhere. People with certain phones could even find her on their touch screens! Some family somewhere is bound to pick Shu Ling this way. How can they not, with such an awesome profile of her?”
Wen beamed. “You think so?”
“Wen. It’ll happen any day now,” Hannah said.
They finished their necklaces. Hannah’s was a choker, made of black beads interspersed with round pearls.
“Let’s wear our
necklaces and I’ll take a photo with my cell phone,” Hannah suggested.
She positioned her head against Wen’s and extended the phone to arm’s length. Then Hannah snapped the shutter and there on the screen, Wen saw the two of them, grinning broadly, their necklaces glowing.
“Mom, come see the picture we took,” Hannah said as she led Wen into the kitchen. She showed her mother her phone.
“Great picture!” Hannah’s mother said. “You two look like the best of friends.”
The best of friends. Wen recoiled, then caught herself.
“Wen, do stay for dinner. We’re having pasta and homemade pesto. We’d love to have you, right, Hannah?”
“Please stay, Wen,” Hannah begged.
Wen kept her eyes on the phone screen, where she and Hannah tilted their heads together, as if they’d been friends forever.
“Thank you, this is not possible,” said Wen. “I have to go now.”
“What’s up, Wen? You just got here!” Hannah said.
“Must get home, very late. Hannah, thanks for jewelry. Had such a nice time.”
She didn’t wait for Hannah to try to convince her to stay. As she hurried home she heard Hannah’s mother saying best of friends over and over.
But Shu Ling was her best friend, her longest friend, with nobody else to count on. Wen couldn’t ever forget that.
twenty-two
As the holidays neared, Wen noticed that the blogs made a big deal about adopting children. They featured extra kids, they made the titles bigger. Holidays were for families and families needed kids, was how the blogs put it.
On Sandy’s blog, in letters twinkling like little lights around Shu Ling’s thin face, Wen read, “A Little Over Three Weeks Left! Bring This Girl into Your Family Now!”
Tom, who wrote on his “Take Me Home” blog every day, had created a special link to Shu Ling, where, beneath the portrait of Wen and Shu Ling, red words said “Her friend loves her. You will too!”
Still, Shu Ling’s photo stayed on the Worldwide Web site, unchosen. Wen called Jenny to see what she thought.
“We’re still getting plenty of hits, Wen,” Jenny Peters reported. “Remember it slows down a little during the holidays.”
“Thought it went faster,” Wen said.
“A lot can happen in three weeks and a day,” Jenny Peters said.
Later, as Wen stared at the blank squares left on her calendar, she tried to cheer herself with Jenny Peters’s words. A lot could happen in twenty-two days. A family could pick Shu Ling.
Or she could lose her best friend for good.
That afternoon, Wen’s mother took Wen and Emily Christmas shopping.
“Not spend much monies,” Wen reminded Emily. “Dad said mall special just treat because of festival.”
At the mall-palace, Wen used her savings to buy her father a coffee mug. He always used the same cracked cup when he hunted for jobs. While her mother waited on the bench outside the store, she and Emily bought her citrus oil in a lemon-shaped bottle.
“She always smell good,” Wen said.
“Mom, you mean?” Emily swung the plastic shopping bag.
“Yeah, her,” Wen said.
When Emily was with her mother, Wen bought Emily a soft white bear with a pink bow at its neck. She could imagine Emily settling her new bear on her pillow beside all her other stuffed animals.
Downstairs, Wen saw a long line of kids waiting to sit on the lap of a man dressed like Santa Claus.
“Wennie, did you have Santa at the orphanage?” Emily asked.
“Yes. Auntie Mu Hong brought back big poster of Santa from the city and taped it to the wall. Forgot to take down, so Santa, he stayed up until July.”
“In America, kids think he brings toys.”
“In orphanage, kids know this not true,” Wen said.
On Wednesday, Wen’s father came home wearing a red polo shirt with big orange letters, “RE,” on the right pocket.
“What’s up with the shirt, Daddy?” Emily asked.
“I’m working as a salesperson at Regal Electronics until I find a computer job,” said her father. “They had an unexpected opening.”
“Very nice shirt,” Wen said politely.
“Thanks. Now help me get our tree into the house.” Her father motioned toward a pine tree tied to his car roof.
Wen and Emily grabbed the top of the tree while their father held the trunk, and together they heaved it into the living room. Wen’s mother brought out big boxes. Wen and Emily looped little colored lights from branch to branch. Then everybody hung the decorations—shiny balls, lacy snowflakes, and glittery stars. When they’d finished, Wen lay on the carpet and wedged her head so close under the tree boughs that the lowest needles tickled her nose. She inhaled the fresh, clean scent of pine.
At the orphanage, Christmas had mostly been just like any other day, except sometimes Cook splashed extra vinegar on their dumplings or served sweet buns. There had been no tree inside.
“It’s Wennie’s first Christmas!” Emily snuggled beside Wen and gazed up at the tree too.
“Like tree best,” said Wen.
“Glad it’s not an extra,” Emily whispered.
“And Grandma Jackson’s coming again.” From under the tree, Wen could hear the lilt in her mother’s voice.
“Grandma brings good presents,” Emily commented. “What do you want for Christmas, Wen?”
“I am without clue,” said Wen.
“You mean clueless,” Emily corrected her.
“Have everything,” Wen answered.
But it wasn’t true. She had everything but the thing that mattered most: a family for Shu Ling.
“Guess what? My dad’s coming home for Christmas dinner!” Hannah told Wen at the bus stop the next morning.
On the way to school, Wen noticed Hannah swaying in her seat, her gaze faraway, as if she was daydreaming. Wen decided she was probably thinking about how she and her dad would hug when he came inside for the big banquet.
That was what she and Shu Ling would do, if Shu Ling were here, visiting for Christmas, along with her whole new family. They’d hug. Then Wen would show her the tree and they’d lie under it together. Shu Ling would love the tree. And then she’d say, Oh, mei mei, I can’t believe I’m here, and for Christmas, too!
“Mail, Wennie,” Emily called the day before Christmas. Wen ripped open the envelope and read the Chinese characters, as delicate as the tracks of tiny birds.
Dear Mei Mei,
We just had a very large snowstorm. The orphanage ran out of coal and we didn’t have heat for days. My bad leg got very big. It was white and puffy and hurt like somebody was sticking little pins in it. Dr. Han came. He was mad and he said, “Why didn’t anybody soak this leg for you?” Then Dr. Han soaked my leg himself and wrapped it in towels. He told Auntie Bi Yu she must always watch my leg for frostbite, that if nobody kept my leg warm, next time, he might have to cut it off.
Maybe I will see you by the time the snow melts, in the spring! Oh please, mei mei, find me a family fast as you can.
Love from your Shu Ling
Wen put down the letter. Not Shu Ling’s leg!
Last winter the furnace had broken down and the orphanage was so cold, Shu Ling’s twisted leg swelled and turned waxy and pale. In a week, her skin, now the color of reddish earth, became hard and numb. From the kitchen, Wen carried a heavy pail of warm water to Shu Ling’s bed, soaking her leg every half hour. When the electricity had gone off days later, Wen couldn’t heat the water on the stove anymore, so she had wrapped herself around Shu Ling’s leg, keeping it warm with her own body heat.
Finally Dr. Han came. He said if Shu Ling’s leg got too badly frostbitten, blood-filled blisters would appear and then the blood would stop flowing to her leg alt
ogether. Her deadened and shrunken skin would turn black. He’d have to amputate.
Then Wen heard him say something else to Auntie Bi Yu. “Huai si,” he whispered. Gangrene. If Shu Ling’s bad leg stayed too cold for too long, tissue death, caused by lack of blood, would set in. Her joints and nerves and tendons would decay and her muscles and bones would rot. She would no longer be able to move. Then her body temperature would fall so low, Shu Ling’s lungs would begin to shut down. Then her brain would stop working right and she would become very confused. Finally, her heart failing, Shu Ling would lose consciousness. And then she would die.
Now Wen clutched Shu Ling’s letter so tightly, she almost crushed the paper.
Huai si! Not huai si!
Wen zipped up her parka and fled to the backyard hill, hurling her body into the cold wind. Even over the icy blasts, she could hear the words Huai si! Huai si! still haunting her.
Wen reached the top of the hill, her hair whipping against her face. If she ran up and down the hill hard enough, the sound of her heart pounding would block out the huai si words and, finally, buffeted by the wind, she’d go completely numb.
Bracing herself, Wen tore down the slope, then hurling her body against the strong currents, she pushed her way back up again. After charging up and down the hill more times than she could count, she couldn’t fight the wind any longer. Shivering and exhausted, she went inside, Shu Ling’s letter wadded in her reddened hands.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Wen’s mother asked later that night as the family gathered around the fire, drinking cocoa. “It’s Christmas Eve and you’re very quiet.”
“Got bad news from Shu Ling,” Wen said. “Her leg got too cold. The club one. Means might have to get leg cut off.” Wen couldn’t tell about the rest. It was too awful to talk about.
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