by Tracey West
Chapter One
The Escape
The light from Dr. Zara’s lab was a bright spot in the dark research facility deep in the basement of Burnish Industries. She sat at her desk with Duchess, her pet jerboa, perched on her shoulder. The white rodent’s tiny ears twitched at the sound of the squawks and twitters coming from the lab animals in the neighboring rooms.
Dr. Zara tapped a pen on her desk as she spoke on the phone in a crisp British accent.
“Yes, Mr. Burnish, the venue is completely sold out,” she assured him. “This is the most important discovery of the century and everyone wants to see it.”
She spun around in her chair, putting her back to the door.
“Yes, the press will be there,” she continued. “This is your big day, Mr. Burnish. You won’t be disappointed. I promise.”
Duchess wrinkled her nose and turned to face the door. Her black eyes widened and she squeaked in alarm.
Dr. Zara felt a prickle on the back of her neck. She slowly turned to see the hulking, furry form of a giant white beast in the doorway, standing on all fours. How had he gotten out of his cage?
She leaped to her feet. “Easy, boy . . .” She held up both hands and slowly edged toward the alarm. The beast was still, staring at her with his icy blue eyes. Was that anger she saw in them, or fear?
She hit the alarm.
Wee-oo! Wee-oo! Wee-ooo!
Techs in white coats poured into the lab, rushing toward the beast from all sides. Each one held a long metal stick with a forked end—an electric shock prod.
“Who left the enclosure open?” Dr. Zara yelled.
“Stay back!” the security captain warned.
The beast moved quickly, pushed past the guards, and raced into the hallway. Red lights flashed in the corridor. Doors slammed behind him as he bolted toward the exit door. With one last burst of energy, he broke through the door and ran into the yard.
Cold rain hit his fur and he stopped, gaining his bearings. Wire fences hemmed him in, and bright searchlights swept back and forth, trying to find him.
He ran around the yard, searching for a way out. The armed security guards surrounded him again, and this time he was trapped. He backed up against the fence and got a shock. He saw the lightning-bolt-shaped sign on it. The beast knew what that meant. If he tried to climb the fence, he’d be zapped.
Dr. Zara stepped through the guards and slowly approached him. Growling, the beast paced back and forth on his hands and feet, keeping his eyes on her.
“All right, move in slowly,” Dr. Zara told the guards. “No sudden movements.”
Frightened, little Duchess hid under the doctor’s ponytail.
The beast’s growl suddenly changed into a low, vibrating hum. His fur began to pulse with a bluish light. Dr. Zara’s eyes widened with fear.
“What’s happening?”
Crash! A bolt of lightning stuck one of the searchlights overhead, raining glass down on the yard. Instinctively, Dr. Zara covered her head with her hands and ran for cover under the safety of the overhang near the door. The guards did the same.
Dr. Zara turned back toward the beast . . . but he was gone. A massive hole gaped in the mangled metal fence, showing the bright lights of a bustling Chinese city in the distance.
“Who’s telling Mr. Burnish?” the security captain asked.
Dr. Zara glared at him. Mr. Burnish was not going to be happy.
She had to find the beast, and fast. Failure was not an option.
Chapter Two
Yi’s Busy Day
The cold rain continued to fall as the beast ran through the city, lost and confused. Neon lights and traffic lights flashed, and impatient drivers honked their horns as they drove down the crowded streets. Thanks to the dark and the rain, none of them noticed the furry white beast racing through the metropolis.
A truck whizzed by, grazing him, and the wounded beast darted into a dark alley to escape. He gazed up at the twelve-story apartment building next to him and began to climb it. Exhausted, he collapsed into the shadows of the roof.
He faced a huge Jumbotron a few streets away that projected an image of a beautiful snow-capped mountain. The tallest mountain in the world, Mount Everest. He gazed at it as long as he could, until he drifted off into a deep sleep.
The rain stopped overnight, and the morning dawned with a bright sun in the blue summer sky. Inside the apartment building, a few floors below the sleeping beast, sixteen-year-old Yi was ready to start her day. She put on her sunglasses and opened her bedroom door. She breezed past her mom, who was packing her briefcase for work, and NaiNai making tea in the kitchen.
“Bye everybody! Have a great day!” she called over her shoulder.
“Hey! What are you? A famous person now?” NaiNai asked. Yi reluctantly took off her sunglasses.
“Where are you going?” her mom asked.
Yi paused at the door. “I’ve got stuff to do.”
Her grandmother frowned. “Stuff? What is this stuff?” NaiNai asked. “It’s a summer holiday. Either be busy or be on holiday, that is what I say.”
Her mom interrupted. “Be careful out there.”
“Of course!” Yi reached for the doorknob.
“Be back before dinner,” NaiNai said.
“I’ll try,” Yi promised.
“Warm enough?” Mom asked.
“Toasty!” Yi confirmed.
“No boys!” NaiNai added.
“What?” Why is she saying that all of a sudden? Yi wondered. “No . . . no boys.”
“Do you need any money?” Mom asked.
Yi put her sunglasses back on and confidently peered at her mom and grandmother over the top of them. “Mom, NaiNai, I’ve got it covered. Goodbye!”
Before they could say another word, Yi slipped out the door, but her backpack remained behind, hung up on the door handle. She tugged frantically until she managed to pull it free and then, with glasses crooked on her face, she gave a sheepish “Bye!” and escaped.
NaiNai shook her head. “What do you think she does all day?” she wondered aloud.
Yi heard her grandmother ask the question. It was one Yi knew she wasn’t ready to answer. Mom and NaiNai wouldn’t understand.
“All right,” she told herself. “Time to get busy!”
Twenty minutes later, she walked down the street, being pulled by a dozen dachshunds, each attached to a leash. She wove through the crowd of pedestrians and bicyclists, at the mercy of the dogs. But it was worth it when, one hour later, she delivered them back to Mrs. Zhao and received a handful of cash for her trouble.
Next stop was babysitting a four-year-old terror who thought Yi was his sworn enemy and constantly pelted her with food. After that, she washed a neighbor’s car, then headed to Mrs. Chen’s fish shop and spent an hour tossing cans full of slimy, smelly fish guts into the dumpster. As usual, it seemed like more guts ended up on her than in the dumpster.
By the end of the day, she was covered in fish slime and still had some of the child’s breakfast porridge in her hair. But her handful of cash had grown into a nice wad, and she counted it as she headed back home.
The sound of familiar voices stopped her. Yi looked up and her smile faded. Why did she have to run into Jin now, looking like this? And of course he was with the popular kids from his class, the ones who looked like fashion models. But then again, so did Jin, with his perfectly styled hair, brand-new jeans, striped shirt, and favorite accessory: his cell phone.
“So Jin, are you going to Shuo’s this weekend?” one of the girls asked him.
“Nah, I’m headed to Beijing to check out my school,” he said. “I’m pre-med.”
“Med school?” asked another gir
l.
“Wow!” said the first girl.
Jin nodded. “I know, right?”
One of the girls in the group sniffed the air. “Ugh, what is that smell?”
That smell is me, Yi realized, and she owned it. She straightened up and slipped on her sunglasses, locking eyes with Jin as he passed.
Then she heard one of the girls whisper to Jin. “She looks like she slept in a dumpster.”
Everyone laughed. Even Jin. Yi scowled and kept on her way. Later that afternoon when she arrived home, she found Peng dribbling a basketball on the sidewalk.
“He breaks left. He breaks right. He’s going in for the dunk!” the nine-year-old narrated, as he dribbled toward the basketball hoop in the alley. He tossed the ball at the basket, but it bounced off the pole and careened away from him. He scrambled after it and then smiled when he noticed Yi standing there.
“Hey, Yi, come shoot hoops with me!” he urged. “Come on!”
“Sorry, Peng, I don’t have time,” Yi replied. “Why don’t you ask the other kids?”
She opened the door and started up the stairs. Peng followed her.
“The other kids are too little,” Peng replied. Then he lowered his voice. “And some of them are freakishly good. Come on, Yi. You never play with me anymore.”
Yi sighed. “Peng, I’ve been busy all day.”
A little while later, Jin came out of his apartment, talking on his phone. He must have passed me without me even noticing him, Yi thought. Yi nodded toward him. “Your cousin will play with you.”
Peng rolled his eyes. “As usual, he’s got a date,” he said. He puckered his lips and made silly smooching noises.
Yi laughed and kept moving up the stairs. Peng continued to follow and tugged on her shirt. “Wait, wait, Yi, here we go,” he said, pointing at Jin, who was passing a window in the hallway. “Three, two, one . . . stop and check!”
On cue, Jin stopped to check out his hair in the reflection. Yi and Peng burst out laughing.
“Hey Yi, you know I can smell you from all the way over here, right?” Jin asked, not taking his eyes off his reflection.
“Like you can talk!” Yi called down the stairwell. “I’m sorry, is there any aftershave left, or did you use the whole bottle?”
Jin stepped away from the window. “Why, you hoping to borrow some? Not sure it’ll help.”
Yi scoffed. “Very funny.”
Peng bounced the basketball on the landing. “You guys want to work out some of this tension on the court?”
“Forget it, Peng. We wouldn’t want to mess up Jin’s hair,” Yi said scornfully.
Jin lifted a foot. “And the new kicks. No basketball for these babies.” He snapped a photo of his sneakers, then turned to Peng. “Another time, okay, cuz?”
Peng sighed. “That’s what you always say.”
Jin headed downstairs, his eyes on his phone. “Forty-eight likes already! Sweet!”
Yi rolled her eyes. When they were kids, Yi and Jin had been best friends. They’d played together every day. But things were different now, and not just with Jin. Everything was different.
Dejected, Peng went back downstairs. Before entering, Yi paused at her apartment door, listening to Mom and NaiNai talk about her in the kitchen.
“She’s never home anymore!” NaiNai complained.
“Ma . . . ,” Yi’s mom began.
“What? Are we just going to give up on her?” NaiNai asked.
“I’d never give up on Yi,” her mom said firmly. “Look, we both know what she’s been going through. She misses her dad. . . . We all do.”
Yi slowly and quietly opened the door. She tiptoed through the living room, hoping to get past her mom and grandmother without being noticed.
“If we’re patient and don’t push her, then maybe—” Her mom stopped as Yi’s foot hit a creaky floorboard.
“Yi, is that you?” NaiNai asked. “We’ve been waiting for you to eat.”
Yi stopped. “Oh, I ate on my way back. So I’m good,” she lied.
Her mom approached her. “Hey, Yi. Why don’t we all sit down together tonight as a family?”
“Family?” Yi asked. Had her mom really just used that word?
“You need to eat,” NaiNai called from the table. “You don’t want to be so short like your mother.”
“I’m okay,” Yi assured her. “Thank you, NaiNai.”
“Yi, wait,” her mom said. “What would you say to playing a little violin for us after supper? Remember when you used to . . .”
Yi’s stomach sank. “I . . . I can’t.”
“Can’t? Why?” Mom asked.
“Because, I . . .” A thousand excuses ran through her mind. What did it matter? What did anything matter anymore? “I sold it. I’m sorry.”
As her mom turned to go, the look of shocked disappointment on her face was enough to break Yi’s heart. She stepped into her bedroom and shut the door behind her with a groan.
“Ugh!”
She didn’t talk to her mom and NaiNai for the rest of the night. She showered off the fish guts and porridge, changed her clothes, then climbed into bed.
Her mom came in to check on Yi, as she did every night like clockwork. Yi kept her eyes closed as she felt her mom’s hand brush her cheek. Then her mom sighed softly and quietly left the room.
When she heard the door close, Yi’s eyes snapped open. She jumped out of bed and went to the window, opening it. The bright city lights obscured the stars, but she could still make out a slender crescent moon in the sky.
She climbed out of the window, onto the bamboo stairs, then made her way up to the roof.
Chapter Three
The Creature
Yi hopped off the scaffolding onto the roof. Under the bright lights of the city, she made her way to a ramshackle-looking fort built from scraps of sheet metal, wood boards, and a canvas tarp.
She pulled aside the tarp and entered. The inside looked a lot more comfortable than the outside, and that was on purpose. It was Yi’s haven, her own special, secret place. Pillows were propped in the corners. A bulletin board on the wall held a large map of China adorned with colorful postcards from places all across the country. A flowerpot held a half-dead pink orchid with drooping leaves.
Yi took a stack of cash from her backpack and looked up at the map with a sigh. “I will take this trip . . . someday.” She picked up the flowerpot to reveal a small hole in the floor that held the cash from her previous jobs. She added the new bills to the pile and placed the pot back down.
Then Yi pulled a battered violin case from behind the pillows and took it outside. When she opened the case, a photo of her and her dad was prominently placed inside the lid. In the photo, Yi was smiling, and her dad was holding the violin—the same one in the case. It was a beautiful memory, and a painful one too, because she knew there could never again be another moment like that.
Yi picked up the violin and stepped up onto an old fruit crate. She propped the violin under her chin, closed her eyes, and began to play. A sweet, powerful melody spilled out across the roof and over the city skyline. When Yi played, she could feel her dad inside the music. For a few minutes, it was like he was alive again.
Suddenly, the roar of a helicopter engine interrupted the song, and Yi opened her eyes to see a helicopter overhead, scanning the rooftops with bright searchlights. Startled, she toppled off the crate, and the violin dropped from her hands and skidded across the roof.
As the helicopter moved away, Yi reached down to grab her violin from behind the heating duct where it had landed. She stopped.
Something furry was sticking out from behind the heating duct, right next to the violin. A rat? She squinted. No, it looked like . . . a furry white hand? A mitten maybe? Or a person in a costume? But what would anybody be doing on the roof? Nobody else ever came up here.
Heart pounding, Yi considered her options. She should run. But she couldn’t leave the violin behind. Cautiously, quietly, she tiptoed toward the
instrument. Her fingers touched it. . . .
Twang! She accidentally plucked one of the strings. Two bright blue eyes flashed open behind the duct.
Yi jumped back. A huge beast, twice as tall as she was, jumped out at her. Its body was covered with matted white fur. It opened its mouth to roar, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth.
Yi backed up toward the edge of the roof, too terrified to scream. What was this thing? A white gorilla? A demon? Whatever it was, it didn’t seem friendly!
She expected the creature to lunge at her, but it did something different. It slowly stepped toward her and made a noise again—but Yi realized it wasn’t a roar, but a moan. Was something wrong? Then she noticed a large red gash on its forearm.
Whirrrrrrrrr. The helicopter was circling back toward them. The creature looked up, panicked, and limped back toward the safety of the shadows.
Yi quickly figured out the situation. The beast wasn’t dangerous—if it were, it would have hurt her by now, but instead, it was hurt, and the people in the helicopter were looking for it. Were they going to hurt it again?
Without hesitation, Yi sprang into action. She dragged a sheet of scrap metal over to the beast and covered it before the helicopter passed. Then she jumped into a wooden crate and hid, watching.
The helicopter hovered for a few moments, then moved on. When it was out of sight, she emerged from the crate and peeked behind the metal sheet. The beast was asleep.
Slowly, carefully, she backed away from it. Her heart was racing, but she didn’t leave the roof. This beast had a story—and she wanted to figure it out. She sat down with her back to the crate, eyes locked on the beast. This was both the scariest and most thrilling moment of her life.
Yi woke at sunrise. It took her a few seconds to realize she had fallen asleep on the roof. She rubbed her eyes and wondered if last night had all been a dream.
But just then, she heard the beast snoring behind the sheet metal. She crept up to the hiding place and peeked in. It was still asleep, and the wound on its arm didn’t look any better.
Filled with compassion, Yi darted over to her fort, put the violin away, and grabbed some cash from under the flowerpot. She ran through her bedroom into the kitchen, and waved to her grandmother.
