Red Thread Sisters (9781101591857)

by Carol Antoinette Peacock

  “School first, call later,” said her mother.

  On Monday morning, Wen stayed in bed past breakfast.

  She clutched her belly when her mother tried to wake her up. “I not good.”

  Her mother sat by her bed. “You seemed fine yesterday.”

  “It just come. It is possible I throw up. At school this happen, very bad. People see.” Wen huddled under her covers, eyeing her phone by her pillow. “I stay home today.”

  Wen’s mother crossed her arms, thinking.

  “Must stay home,” Wen said.

  “OK. But your stomach has to feel better tomorrow.”

  “Oh, much better tomorrow,” Wen said.

  Her mother started to close the door. “If they don’t pick up at nine o’clock, try again at nine fifteen, Wen. Sometimes people don’t answer their phones right away on Mondays.”

  Wen caught her mother’s eye. Wen knew she knew.

  Thank you, she wanted to say to her mother. But she couldn’t.

  “I sleep now. Very sick.” Wen turned over and pretended to doze off.

  She called at 9:01.

  “Good morning, this is Worldwide Adoptions, Jenny Peters speaking.”

  “I see on your Web site, Susie, age thirteen,” Wen said.

  “I’m sorry,” said Jenny Peters. “Can I put you on hold?”

  Wen heard the phone switch to boring music. Now her stomach really did hurt. She had so much to tell this lady, she thought she might burst. Suppose she didn’t have enough English for all she needed to say? Suppose she talked about Shu Ling and started to cry?

  “OK, here I am.” Jenny Peters sounded so cheerful she almost chirped. “You were calling about Susie? Let’s see, her real name is Shen Shu Ling. We use the American name for privacy.”

  “I know this girl,” Wen heard herself stammer. She stared at Shu Ling’s portrait on the bulletin board, which seemed to ground her. “I am Wen. Shu Ling’s best friend.”

  “You actually know Susie?” said Jenny Peters. Wen could almost see her raising her eyebrows.

  “Shu Ling. She was my best friend back at the orphanage. Long time. I know her much.” Wen heard herself speaking good English.

  “But your Web site say she is thirteen,” Wen continued. “I know her right age. Shu Ling is twelve. Aunties know this, kids know this.”

  “Hold on. Let me get her file.”

  Again Wen heard the annoying music.

  “Back again. Yes, according to our records, the Tong Du orphanage file states that Shen Shu Ling was born on January 12, thirteen years ago. So that’s her official birthday.”

  Shu Ling couldn’t be thirteen! These Worldwide people were wrong.

  “We call,” Wen proposed. “Tell them file not right.”

  “The files are official, Wen. We never find mistakes in the birth dates,” Jenny said.

  “If this true, this mean Shu Ling not have much time,” Wen protested.

  “We’ve had her on our Web site a while, way beyond the usual deadline, and so far, no family has expressed interest. When she turns fourteen, she’ll age out.”

  “My mother explain this age out. Happens to old girls, not like Shu Ling. Shu Ling a younger girl.”

  “I’m so sorry. On January 12, she’ll be fourteen and we’ll have to send her file back to China. So your friend has to be picked before her actual birthday. Otherwise it’s too late.”

  “OK, then, I help you work fast.” Wen spoke loudly into her phone. “You not know Shu Ling like I do. Under very old photo, not say many words.”

  “We usually just give the identifying information, until a family indicates interest.”

  “How anybody pick Shu Ling if they don’t know her?” said Wen. “I tell you more.”

  “You want to rewrite her whole description? We rarely do this. It seems fine the way it is.” Jenny Peters’s cheerful voice turned terse. “Maybe you should talk to our agency writer. He’ll be in tomorrow.”

  “Better to tell you now,” Wen said. “I tell, you listen. Then you put what I say under her picture. So somebody picks her better. This girl, she is my friend, like sister.” Wen paused. “She needs family fast. Today your Web site say little over six weeks.”

  “A day over six weeks,” Jenny Peters murmured. “All right. It goes against our policy, but since you do know her so well . . .” Jenny said. “I’m at my computer. Go ahead.”

  “Shu Ling,” Wen began. “She is twelve.” Wen waited for Jenny to correct her, but she kept on typing, so maybe even Jenny thought the age might be wrong. “She has a clubfoot, little bit. Walks fine, nothing to worry about. She helps the aunties with the babies. She can scrub the tiles and also she cook noodles, mix baby drink. Also she draws pictures, so beautiful. She waits for a family for a long time. Pick her and you will be happy ever after.”

  “Just a minute, I think I’ve got it all.”

  “Also, Shu Ling good artist. We post a portrait she did, so people know she has talent, like a celebrity?”

  “I’ll scan in the picture as soon as you send it. This is a little unusual, Wen, but we’ll do our best. It’ll be up by Friday.”

  “Thanks.” Wen hesitated. “Wednesday would also be good day.”

  Wen’s stomach officially recovered the next day. But now she felt her shoulders tense, tight as a rubber band, as she worried about the mistake in Shu Ling’s file. Who would know her age better than Shu Ling herself? But Wen hadn’t even told Shu Ling the big change in plans. Wen went to her desk and began to write.

  Dear Shu Ling,

  I’ve wanted to tell you this but I’ve been waiting until I had some good news for you. A little while ago, my father lost his job, and now my parents don’t have the money to adopt you. I am so sorry about this, Shu Ling. I waited until I knew they would say yes but my father got fired before I could even ask. I wish so much I had asked sooner! I also haven’t wanted to tell you because I have let you down.

  But now my mother is helping me find you a family of your own, another way. You’ll still have a family and we can still visit each other here in America. I’m sorry it’s not possible about my family. But we can see each other all the time. We have vacations in America and we can spend them together. Maybe whole summers.

  For me to find you this family, I have to know something:

  Please tell me, you are twelve years old, right?

  Let me know as soon as you can.

  Love,

  Wen

  From her wallet, she counted all the allowance money she’d saved until her parents declared allowances were an extra. Wen put her letter and wallet with twelve dollars and five cents in her parka pocket and walked to the post office.

  “Like to mail this to China as fast as possible,” Wen said to the woman behind the desk, who placed her letter on a scale.

  “To China, express delivery, forty-seven dollars and ninety-five cents,” she said.

  Wen frowned. “How about less fast?” she asked.

  “That’ll be ninety-eight cents,” said the woman.

  Wen counted out her change and the woman stamped her letter. “Should get there next week or the week after at the latest.”

  Next week and then maybe two weeks for Shu Ling to write back and in the meantime, the false date was still on the Web site, the aging out still happening.

  At dinner, Wen swirled her fork in the pasta, not eating. “Cannot believe Shu Ling’s age is wrong.”

  Wen’s father shook his head. “If it’s in her file, Wen, there’s nothing else we can do.”

  “Auntie Lan Lan know,” said Wen. “Maybe there are two dates in file. Maybe people using wrong date, should be using the twelve-year-old date.”

  “How would Auntie Lan Lan know?” her mother asked.

&
nbsp; “Auntie Lan Lan good spy. She know everything that goes on. Besides, she in charge of files. I call her, just to be sure. Otherwise, age out will happen.”

  Wen’s mother glanced at her watch. “It’s seven in the morning at the orphanage. Do you want to call now?”

  Wen knew calling the orphanage would be really expensive. “You are sure? Very large extra,” Wen said.

  “Sometimes there are extras you can’t cut out, Wen,” said her mother.

  Just hug her, Wen told herself, flooded with gratitude. But she couldn’t.

  Wen’s mother copied the orphanage phone number for Wen and handed her the phone.

  “Ni hao.” Wen heard a voice she’d know anywhere.

  “Auntie Lan Lan, it’s me, Wen.”

  “Ah, Wen! You called us!” Auntie Lan Lan shouted, as if her voice needed to cross the ocean.

  “Auntie Lan Lan, do you know Shu Ling’s birth date? The exact date? There’s been a big mistake. The people over here think she’s thirteen.”

  “Thirteen.” Wen heard Auntie Lan Lan sigh. “Almost too old for adoption.”

  “Right,” said Wen. “So can you check her file, to be sure? Maybe there is a scratch-out. Maybe somebody read it wrong.”

  “Director Feng is on a trip. I’ll go to the files in his office and pick up the phone there. You hold on, OK?”

  In the background, Wen could hear the babies. She’d forgotten how loudly the babies cried, how the air seemed to pulse with their wailing.

  Auntie Lan Lan’s voice came back on the phone. “I have it.”

  “Read me her birth date, Auntie Lan Lan.”

  “It says Shen Shu Ling was born thirteen years ago. So she turns fourteen this January 12.”

  “Go over it again. Is there another date somewhere on the page?”

  “No, Wen. That’s it. I remember now how, in the beginning, when Shu Ling came here, there were so many babies all left at the same time. The aunties tried, Wen, but some of them got the birth dates mixed up. So early on, especially because Shu Ling was so malnourished, we must have thought she was a year younger and kept using that age. But the file is right, it gives the official date.”

  “This,” Wen gasped, “this cannot be possible.”

  “She is thirteen now. Wen, I am sorry,” whispered Auntie Lan Lan.

  “It’s OK, Auntie Lan Lan. It’s not your fault,” Wen said. “I must go now. Thank you for answering my question.”

  Suddenly, there was so little time left.

  “Of course, Wen. Maybe you will find a family for Shu Ling even so,” Wen heard Auntie Lan Lan say.

  “Maybe. Bye, Auntie Lan Lan.” Wen hung up quickly, so Auntie Lan Lan wouldn’t hear her crying in America.

  twenty

  Out her window the next morning, Wen saw the dark skies split open and rain pound down.

  “Richard,” her mother called from the sink. “We’ve got a leak!”

  Wen and Emily tore into the kitchen, where water was collecting on the ceiling and dripping onto the stove. Just as her mother put a big pot under the leak, two other drips started, near the middle of the ceiling. Her mother grabbed two more pots.

  “I thought we got the roof fixed last year,” her father fumed.

  Extra, thought Wen. Fixed roof an extra.

  They took turns dumping out the water from the pots. Soon the ceiling paint began to peel, turning the drippings a milky white.

  “There goes the ceiling,” her mother said with a sigh, as she massaged her forehead.

  Ceiling an extra, Wen noted.

  The streaming water beat against the metal pots.

  “This noise is killing me,” her mother complained.

  Wen stuffed towels into the containers and the dripping sounds softened.

  “Oh, thank you, Wen,” her mother said.

  “This we do in the orphanage,” Wen said.

  Later, the sun came out. The dripping stopped, and Wen’s mother put the pots away. Nobody mentioned the peeling ceiling.

  Emily put on polka-dot rain boots and splashed in puddles in the backyard.

  “Christine, the basement, come quick!” her father called.

  Wen and her mother sized up the basement, where her father stood in a foot of murky black water.

  “The ground’s so wet, water must be seeping through the foundation,” her mother said. “We’ve known the foundation’s had cracks for a while now.”

  “Can’t deal with the whole foundation now, that’s for sure.” Her father grabbed a bucket and began to bail water into the basement sink.

  Foundation of house an extra, Wen thought.

  What was next to go?

  After Wen, Emily, and her mother helped her father bail out the basement, Wen got out paper and a ruler. She made rows and columns for the months of December and January. Then, with purple marker, she colored a huge star in the box of January 11, the day before Shu Ling’s fourteenth birthday. That was the last day a family could pick Shu Ling. She’d make a black X on each day that passed without success. The blank boxes were the days full of possibility, days when Shu Ling might be chosen. Across the top, with a thick red marker, Wen wrote the word

  COUNTDOWN!

  It was December the first. According to Wen’s calendar, just under six weeks now remained until Shu Ling’s final day.

  On Friday, Wen opened the Worldwide Adoptions Web site to see the new description Jenny Peters had assured her would be ready. But the same old, weary one reappeared.

  Wen called Jenny. “It’s Friday. Day of the new Web site. It comes today?”

  “Wen, I’m so sorry. Things got held up on our end,” said Jenny. “The Web site person is telling me Sunday, now.”

  Wasted days! Wen’s panic rose. “Sunday the latest, please! Days fly fast.” She glanced at the calendar, its empty boxes almost screaming, “Five weeks and four days left.”

  When Wen clicked onto the Worldwide Adoptions Web site on Sunday, Shu Ling’s listing was updated at last.

  This 13-Year-Old Girl

  Needs a Family Now!

  Pick This Treasure Before She Ages Out in a Little Over 5 Weeks!

  Susie is thirteen and will age out January 12. She has a clubfoot, correctible by surgery. She is a delightful girl who helps the aunties feed the babies and gives extra love to the neediest children. She cooks very tasty noodles. She scrubs tiles until they shine, weeds well, and does all chores with the greatest energy. Susie has a cheerful disposition and a sunny smile. This girl is an artist, gifted with special talent. She has waited for a forever family for a long time. Contact Jenny Peters for additional information about how you can make Susie your daughter.

  A new photograph, the one Shu Ling had sent Wen, showed Shu Ling standing on top of the hill. She wore the red good-luck tunic Wen had sent her and her flared jeans so her bad leg wouldn’t show. Even though Shu Ling’s face looked gaunt and pinched, she smiled bravely, as if to say, Pick me, great daughter! Underneath her picture was the portrait of Wen and Shu Ling that Wen’s father had helped scan, the lines so gentle, the shading so fine, it showed Shu Ling’s talent far better than words.

  Now a family was bound to pick Shu Ling. Now some family would say, just like Wen’s own family did, There’s our daughter. We choose her.

  Because she had practically memorized Nancy’s step-by-step list, Wen could almost hear Nancy’s voice, brimming with hopefulness. Once you find her, she had said, get her on the advocacy blogs of the stand-up people. They would post Shu Ling’s picture and direct people to Worldwide Adoptions, to adopt her.

  Wen attached her own picture of Shu Ling, the description, and the portrait to e-mails she sent to the advocacy blog writers. By the next day, all had responded.

  “Great girl. I’ll fea
ture her,” wrote Sandy from “Children Who Wait.” “You’re a wonderful friend to be doing this.”

  “Thanks for sending this. I’ll post it right away,” replied a blog person named Linda, who had a site called “Forever Families.”

  “I’m on it,” said Tom, from his “Take Me Home” blog.

  “We’ll find her a family as soon as we can,” Donna wrote from “Needed: One Family.” When Wen opened the blogs again, she saw Shu Ling on each one, her write-up and portrait just below her picture, with a link to the Worldwide Adoptions Web site so people would find her right away.

  Five weeks and one day left.

  Every day Shu Ling wasn’t picked, Wen drew a black X through a square on her countdown calendar. As a week passed with nothing happening, the blog people got as anxious as she was.

  Dear Wen,

  I see a family hasn’t picked your friend yet. Don’t give up. We’re calling her our Child of the Week. Hopefully this will bring her a lot of attention.

  Sandy

  Hi Wen,

  No news from our Shu Ling advocacy. We’ve sent out a special blog alert to all our readers. Try not to worry. Somebody’s bound to pick her soon.

  Keep the faith,

  Tom

  Another storm came, the rain beating against the roof. Wen listened for leaks and wondered how the foundation was holding up. When she clicked on Shu Ling’s photo, as she did several times a day, Shu Ling remained familyless. Exactly four weeks were left.

  What was going wrong? Wen dialed Jenny Peters to see if she knew.

  “Wen, I’m glad you called,” Jenny said. “The phone is ringing off the hook. We’re getting such a response to the new description of Shu Ling. All of a sudden, people want to know about her. In the past week alone, her page got fifty-four hits.”

  “Hits? What is this hits?” Wen asked.

  “Clicks. People who read the words you wrote about her. Eighteen hits just yesterday, Wen. I’ve never seen anything like it. Nobody in the office has either. You’ve done a remarkable job. The blog readers are coming our way too. You must have covered every blog out there, Wen! Somebody’s bound to pick her.”