Red Thread Sisters (9781101591857)

Contents

Cover

Copyright

Dedication

Epigraph

 

one

two

three

four

five

six

seven

eight

nine

ten

eleven

twelve

thirteen

fourteen

fifteen

sixteen

seventeen

eighteen

nineteen

twenty

twenty-one

twenty-two

twenty-three

twenty-four

twenty-five

twenty-six

twenty-seven

twenty-eight

twenty-nine

 

Acknowledgments

If you want to help . . .

An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break.

—A
NCIENT
C
HINESE
L
EGEND

one

“Shu Ling, where are you?” Zhang Wen called. Chilled in the early morning air of September, Wen pulled a thin sweater around her shoulders. The orphanage threw a long shadow across the courtyard.

Where is she?
Wen wondered.
Today of all days!

Wen's new sandals pinched her toes as she picked her way through the bits of glass and metal strewn along the path. Dingy diapers were spread on the bushes to dry. From the open windows of the orphanage, she heard the babies crying.

“Shu Ling, please! Where are you?”

Wen knew she couldn't have gone far, not with her bad leg.

Wen stepped over some rusted pipes and then, striding through a thick patch of long grasses, she veered left until she reached the hill ahead. There she saw her friend, crouched like a cricket on a stack of tires. Her bony knees pointed upward, her elbows jutted from her sides.

“Finally!” Wen said. “I've been looking everywhere for you.”

“I'm here,” said Shu Ling. Her voice was low. “Our place.” She swept her arm across the dusty space, surrounded by a gully filled with trash.

“Of course this is where you'd be.” Wen wrung her skirt as if to squeeze out the sadness rising inside her like a flood.

“You have new clothes.” Shu Ling appraised her.

Wen hoisted up the denim skirt that Auntie Lan Lan had laid out for her that morning. “The skirt's just newer than usual, that's all. It's a little big.” She combed her fingers through her short hair, so the black clumps on top would lie flat.

“You look good.” Shu Ling rose from the tires, teetered, and then rested her arm on Wen.

Wen felt the familiar weight of Shu Ling's arm, fitting as perfectly as a puzzle piece in the hollow of her shoulder.
Say it,
she told herself.
Just say it.

Wen cleared her throat.
“Zai jian,”
she said. “Good-bye. I have to go now.”

“Your new family? They're all here?” Shu Ling swayed. “Just like the photo?”

Wen nodded. “Like the photo.”

The snapshot of Wen's new family had come a month ago, all the way from America. The day the photo arrived, Wen and Shu Ling sat on the cement floor of the common room, the family portrait between them. They admired Wen's mother, her frizzy hair the color of corn and funny little eyeglasses perched on her nose. Beside the mother stood a stout father with a bald head.

“Round Man,” Wen had named him, and Shu Ling laughed. On his back, Round Man carried a grinning, pigtailed Chinese girl, who must also have been adopted. Taped to the photo was a note, written in neat Chinese characters:

 

Dear Zhang Wen,

 

Here is a photo of us, your new family. We live in a town near a city called Boston in the state of Massachusetts. We have been waiting for you for a long time. Your new room is all ready. You will go to school with Emily on the school bus. We can't wait to meet you and welcome you into our family.

 

See you soon,

 

Christine McGuire (your mom)

Richard McGuire (your dad)

Emily McGuire (your sister, seven years old, favorite color pink)

 

After they had read the note, Wen flipped back to the glossy picture, because words made her leaving too real. “Your mom and your dad and your sister named Emily,” Shu Ling said, as if she were chanting. Then her voice wobbled. After that, Wen hid the photograph under her straw mattress so Shu Ling wouldn't have to see Wen's family when she didn't have a family of her own yet.

Now Wen reached up and brushed a lock of hair from Shu Ling's eyes. “Remember our deal. Whoever got picked first would get a family for the other. Once I'm in America, I'll find a family for you! And then we can visit each other, Shu Ling. All the time.”

“But how can we be sure, Wen?”

“I wouldn't leave if I didn't know you'd be coming too.”

“Director Feng says I'm unadoptable.” Darkness like the sky before a spring dust storm crossed Shu Ling's face. “He says I'm getting too old, and besides—”

Both girls glanced at Shu Ling's misshapen right leg, shorter than the other, her foot twisted inward.

“I'll find you a family,” Wen said. “Before my twelfth birthday in April. You'll come right after me! In less than a year, Shu Ling!”

Shu Ling stared at the cabbage from the previous night's dinner, now rotting at the bottom of the ditch. She was silent.

Gently, Wen drew Shu Ling toward her. “In the meantime, while I'm finding you a family over there, be sure to be very good. Otherwise, Director Feng won't put you on the list for adoption. Remember that, Shu Ling. Don't lie too long in your cot in the morning, OK? I won't be here to wake you.”

“I'll get up,” Shu Ling said.

“Be sure to help with all the feedings. And don't go cuddling your favorite babies extra. Not until you've given a bottle to every baby in every crib.”

“I can do the feedings fine. You know that.”

“Also,” Wen went on, “do all the chores the aunties tell you. Don't forget the bleach when you wash the walls. And don't sneak off to our hill to draw. Your pictures are so good, Shu Ling. But they'll get you in trouble.”

“Wen, you worry too much.” Shu Ling took both of Wen's hands into her own. “I'll be OK.”

“I'll think of you every day,” Wen said.

“You'll be so far away.” Bending down, Shu Ling pressed her cheek against Wen's new sweater and embraced her.

“Zhang Wen,” a voice called. “Your family is here! Come now!”

Wen's heart raced. “That's Director Feng. I should go.
Zai jian
, Shu Ling.”

Wen felt Shu Ling's grasp tighten. Then she heard Director Feng shout louder. “Zhang Wen, do not keep your new family waiting!”

“Shu Ling,” Wen said, “I have to go.”

Shu Ling clung to Wen, glued to Wen's body.

Very slowly, Wen took Shu Ling's hands, knuckles white with gripping. One by one, Wen pried each finger from her shoulder and released herself.

“Zai jian,”
Wen said.

“Zai jian.”
Shu Ling stroked Wen's cheek. Then she slipped a rolled-up paper in Wen's skirt pocket. “For later.”

“
Xie xie
, thank you.” Wen tucked the piece of paper deeper into her pocket. “Now remember, I'll get you a family as soon as I can.” She traced Shu Ling's face with her fingertips. “We'll see each other again.”

“You promise?” asked Shu Ling.

“I promise,” Wen answered.

Then she turned and ran toward the orphanage to meet her new family.