by Taylor Dean
Invisible Girl. That’s me. But my superpower controls me, I don’t control it.
Despite the asphyxiation of shyness, I prefer life with my magic cloak firmly in place.
Regardless, the overheard conversation has always stuck with me—a reminder to try.
I’ll always be exactly who I am and I’m okay with that, but I know I need to at least make an effort. My mom often repeated the quote, “Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.”
I’m there.
My new life in China feels like a good time to be my best self, to try a little harder and turn over a new leaf. I’m starting out fresh, with no labels to haunt me. I can be whoever I want to be.
When I see the sign above the loitering group of young adults at LAX announcing SPEAK ENGLISH NOW, I approach with fake confidence. I am not going to silently sidle up and never say a word. I’m going to barge in and immediately make myself known. A second sign announces ZHONGSHAN ACADEMY, the school I’ll be working at, and it is this group I approach.
I swallow as my heart races in my chest. “Hi everyone, I’m Savannah Tate. Ready to go to China?” My soft voice barely carries amidst the low din of the airport lounge.
Just when I feel sure no one has heard me, the conversation stops and all eyes turn on me. The moment of silence feels like an eternity. It seemed like a nice greeting. Was it really that strange? The friendly smile on my face suddenly feels forced.
A tall young man steps forward and saves the day.
“Hey, Savannah Tate. I’m Hunter Jacobson, and yes, I’m ready to go to China.”
Hunter is tall, well over six feet, and looks like the all American preppy college boy. His hair is so blond, it almost looks white. He has a huge smile that reveals dimples and friendly brown eyes. I can only imagine how he’s going to stand out in China.
“Me too,” a petite redhead says. The Chinese will be fascinated with her red hair as well. “I’m Dakota Grant. Nice to meet you, Savannah.” A few notes of jittery laughter accompany her words. “I’m a little nervous. It’s nice to see a friendly face.”
It’s that easy. Invisible Savannah Tate made two new friends within thirty seconds of meeting a large group of people. Unheard of.
If I make an effort, people respond. It’s a lesson learned late in life, but one I plan to implement from here on out.
A couple approach, holding hands and moving in unison as if they’re Siamese twins. “Hello, Savannah. I’m Lori Stevens and this is my hubby, Jason. I’m the Head Teacher. If you need anything, feel free to ask.” Lori giggles as she looks at her husband adoringly. They’re both brunettes and could almost pass as brother and sister, which is a creepy thought. I remember reading that the Head Teacher can be married. I guess I just didn’t expect to see a married couple when most of us are single. “We were just married two months ago.” Jason leans forward and kisses her with way too much enthusiasm for public display.
Yep, newlyweds. Fantastic.
A glance at Hunter produces an exaggerated eye roll. “Gross,” he says. “Knock it off.”
Dakota puts her head down and runs her hand over her forehead, artfully covering her eyes.
Another girl stands in the background, watching Jason and Lori unabashedly, but she doesn’t introduce herself. Her body language screams desperate yearning, as if she wants what Jason and Lori have.
I want it too, only with a whole lot of discretion when we have an audience.
To qualify as a Head Teacher, you must have participated in the SEN program once before. “So, you’ve traveled with SEN in the past, Lori?” I ask.
Lori raises her hand, still giggling. “Guilty. I went to Russia two years ago. That was before I met Jason.”
Jason nuzzles her neck. “My little babushka.”
“You just called me a grandma, Jason.”
“You’ll be a grandma one day and a cute one too. I can’t wait to grow old together.” Jason covers the side of her face with butterfly kisses.
I begin to feel a little sick to my stomach.
The Head Teacher meets with each teacher once a week to go over lesson plans and is also accountable for ensuring the whereabouts and safety of each teacher. I wonder if Lori will ever notice anything except Jason.
“Oh, Love, you have goose bumps. Let me get your sweater out of our backpack.” Jason retrieves Lori’s sweater from their shared backpack and places it on her, an arm at a time.
“Thank you, Love,” Lori says.
Dakota’s lips turn into a disgusted sneer. She scrunches up her nose and shoots me a funny face. I return the favor and we share a smile. I know at that moment we’re going to be great friends.
Once on the plane, my new friends sit on each side of me, Hunter on the right and Dakota on the left. After dinner service, the lights on the plane dim as the stewardess hands us small blankets and pillows. We briefly share details about our lives with one another before retiring for the night.
“I just graduated with a degree in Broadcast Journalism.” Hunter gulps down his ice-filled soda in one swallow. “I grew up in a small town in Idaho. Besides college, I’ve never been anywhere. Secretly, I’d like to be an author and I feel like China will inspire me, you know?”
I immediately deduce that Hunter is a bit of a dreamer. I like dreamers.
Dakota, on the other hand, seems practical and no nonsense. I like that too.
“I’m from Sin City,” Dakota announces.
“Where?” Hunter messes with his small pillow until it’s adjusted to his satisfaction.
“Las Vegas. I’m halfway through my Master’s Degree in Communications and I’m totally burnt out. I just needed a break for a semester.”
“Wimp.” Hunter tosses Dakota a blanket.
“That’s rich, coming from someone who doesn’t even know what Sin City is.” Dakota smacks him with her pillow.
“I told you, I’m from Nowhere, Idaho. We don’t even know what sin is.”
I love my new friends.
I can’t help but think Hunter is going to be like a little kid in a candy shop when he arrives in China. Of course that means he’ll be an exuberant companion when it comes to sightseeing.
Feeling a little exhausted from all the socializing, I’m relieved when they drift off. I need some quiet time.
Our first stop is Hong Kong. SEN has put us up in a nice hotel and is allowing us to experience a day in the famous city. It’s a little hard to enjoy sightseeing when I’m experiencing crazy jet lag, but I manage.
I love it, surprised by the diversity present. There are not only an ample amount of Americans roaming the streets, but also many British and Canadian tourists. Along with Hunter and Dakota, I wander the city, fascinated by the sights and sounds. The hot and humid weather drains us of physical strength. Thank goodness for the sudden onslaught of pounding rain that occasionally bombards the city during the course of the day. Every single local person on the street already carries an umbrella, leaving only us tourists scattering for shelter. The umbrellas are also used to block out the sun because pale skin is favored here—a prime example of never being happy with what you’re born with. White Americans often want to get darker, Asians want to stay lighter. It reminds me that people are people wherever you go and it helps to make me feel more at home.
Food stands dot the streets and we boldly sample the cuisine. We try chicken skewers, and waffles that resemble edible bubble wrap. Every store we pass blares music from all different genres. It’s a crazy, loud, lively city. I begin to wonder if Zhongshan will be similar.
The next day, we endure a three hour bus ride that includes an amazing bridge and some very interesting driving. The bus has to make some tricky maneuvers in order to join the flow of traffic in mainland China. Hong Kong was colonized by Britain and they still drive on the left. Mainland China drives on the right.
When I first catch sight of Zhongshan, I immediately understand why Paul Brooks’ company thrives in the crowded city. There’s a definite short
age of land. Building upwards toward the sky is not only an excellent option, but the only one.
The throngs of people racing around on bicycles and motor bikes make me dizzy. It isn’t as diverse as Hong Kong, mostly due to the fact that it simply isn’t as much of a tourist city as Hong Kong is.
However, Zhongshan is nothing to sneeze at. It’s a large bustling city with a population of three million.
Miss Pearl said to search far and wide and here I am. It’s hard to believe I’m letting something that was said to me at the age of eleven affect my life to this extent. I can’t seem to help myself. It’s written on my heart.
Somewhere, in one of those buildings in the distance, Paul Brooks exists in the flesh. A feeling of expectancy tingles in my limbs. Am I about to find the Paul I’ve been searching for? I feel sure of it. Does he feel the same sense of anticipation I do? It’s as though a collective bated breath hangs in the atmosphere.
“I will find Paul. I will,” I vow.
Chapter Four
August
THERE ARE THREE schools located in Zhongshan where SEN (Speak English Now) teachers teach. Our large group parts ways as we each travel to our assigned schools. There are six teachers all together in my group. Me, Hunter, Dakota, Jason and Lori, and a young girl named Stacy. Stacy and Lori are best friends and Lori had evidently coaxed her into coming to China with them. Stacy looks as though she’d rather be anywhere else, wearing a constant pained expression. It seems as though she’s experiencing a classic case of culture shock. SEN had warned us to expect those types of feelings.
As we approach Zhongshan Academy, I immediately note it’s located on a golf resort. I didn’t expect that. Our bus driver informs us in broken English that rich parents send their rich kids to the Academy.
“Other two schools in Zhongshan . . . not so nice,” he says, “you’re all very lucky . . . this school.”
Another thing I didn’t expect.
We exit the bus and I realize the boarding school and the teachers’ apartment building stand across the street from one another. At least it will be a quick walk to work each day.
We are immediately greeted by the Chinese Native Coordinators, Tao and Luli. They will be guiding us through our four month stay at the school.
“Welcome to Zhongshan,” Tao says, her manner solemn and respectful. “We work for The Bachman Institute and represent SEN during your stay. We also teach at Zhongshan Academy.” Tao is reserved and speaks quietly.
“What’s The Bachman Institute?” Hunter asks bluntly. I quickly learn he has no filter. If he thinks something, he says it. Out loud. Every. Time.
Luli answers. “The Bachman Institute’s purpose in China is to aid the country in learning to speak English.” Luli’s smile extends from ear to ear and never weakens. She’s the opposite of Tao, coming across as bubbly and vivacious.
“Cool,” Hunter says loudly.
As employees of The Bachman Institute, both Tao and Luli speak impeccable English, although heavily accented, which sometimes makes them hard to understand in spite of their proficiency.
“We have a snack for you,” Luli continues. “After your travels, we know you must be hungry and tired.”
The snack is wrapped in a vacuum sealed plastic bag adorned with an unfamiliar cartoon character. Inside are dried squid bits. The saltiness alone nearly puts me under the table. But it’s not enough to make me regret coming to China. Instead I feel even more excited about what I will discover next.
Everyone politely nibbles on the provided snack, their trepidation obvious. Except Hunter. He loves it and gobbles his down. He even eats half of mine.
“It’s official. We’re in China,” he says with a gregarious smile.
Indeed.
Stacy actually gags and spits hers out onto the sidewalk without apology. Gross.
Tao and Luli both frown at her actions and it’s obvious they are displeased. I remember being told during training to never show ungratefulness in China. It’s considered very rude.
“Here, I have an American snack for you,” Hunter offers with a huge grin. He hands them a small bag of Cheetos from his backpack, towering over the petite ladies. “You’ll love it, I promise.”
Tao and Luli are just as dubious as I felt over squid bits.
“My fingers are turning orange,” Luli cries. “What is this?”
“I do not understand,” Tao says as she studies the cheese puff with worried eyes. “What is it?” When she finally takes a bite, her head shakes involuntarily, like a child after taking a spoonful of cherry cough medicine. Then she composes herself and says solemnly, “Thank you so much.”
Luli swallows hard and then forces a smile back on her face. “Thank you, Hunter.”
We were also taught that it is important to save face in China.
We all laugh good-naturedly at our different tastes and before the situation turns awkward, Tao says, “We will take you to your apartment now.”
They lead us inside the apartment building and everyone hauls their luggage into the roomy elevator. The push button numbers on the elevator read: 1, 2, 3A, 3B, 5, and 6.
Puzzled, I ask, “No number four?”
“Oh no,” Luli says. “In China number four is very, very unlucky. The Chinese name for four is very similar to the Chinese name for death. We do not like number four.”
When we stop on Floor 3B, I can’t help but smile. Of course, the Americans are being housed on Floor 3B. No matter which way you sugarcoat it, it’s still the fourth floor. Oh well, what can I say? Americans have the same issue with the thirteenth floor. Some things are universal. It again makes me feel as though the gap between the cultures has just closed a little. In the end, we’re all human.
Next, we’re each assigned a room. Luckily, I’m given Dakota as my roommate. I like her and feel we’ll get along well. Hunter and Stacy are housed with other Chinese teachers—who must’ve drawn the short stick or are not superstitious at all. Of course, Jason and Lori are housed together.
Tao says, “The school cafeteria does not open until school starts in a few days. When it opens, you may eat all of your meals there free of charge.” Tao and Luli give us each a small plastic container. Mine is decorated with Hello Kitty. “In China, we do not waste our food. When eating in the cafeteria, please place your leftovers in this container. Take it back to your room to dispose of the food.”
So it’s okay to throw away food as long as no one sees us doing it. Got it. I can live with that.
Luli tells us, “There is a restaurant down the street that serves American and Chinese food called Burger, Burger. Most of the Americans who teach here love to eat there often. The American chef was once a teacher here and decided to stay in China. He gives a discount to the teachers at Zhongshan Academy. It is a very good deal. Please enjoy.”
I didn’t really come to a foreign country to eat something I could get at home, but everything feels so different, it sounds comforting.
“We will be back for you this evening,” Luli says. “Make yourselves comfortable.”
“We’d like to take you to the Chairman Mao restaurant tonight. They serve traditional Chinese food. It’s very good,” Tao says with a deep head nod.
Dakota and I thank them and head for our apartment. We throw the door open and say hello to our new home for the next four months.
Dakota wanders around the room. “It’s a lot nicer than I expected.”
“Yeah, I guess I wasn’t expecting our living conditions to feel so . . .”
“Modern?” Dakota provides.
“I didn’t want to say that, but yes.” I plop down onto my bed. “Ouch. It’s as hard as a rock.”
Dakota lifts up her mattress to investigate. “It’s just a wooden platform with a small foam pad on top. That’s it. No wonder it feels hard.” She raises one eyebrow. “When I said modern, maybe I spoke too soon.”
“SEN promised this would be the adventure of a lifetime and they weren’t kidding,” I say, poin
ting to the bathroom.
Our room is one huge white-tiled space with a distinct lack of privacy. In one corner sits a western toilet, a sink, and a shower head randomly sticking out of one wall. There isn’t a divider or anything to protect the rest of the room from the shower spray.
“How is that supposed to work?” Dakota says, her eyebrows furrowing as though she’s trying to figure out a difficult puzzle.
“It gives new meaning to an open floor plan.” I place my suitcase on the bed and unzip it.
“First order of business: a tension rod and shower curtain,” Dakota remarks.
“And something to make the bed softer.” Even an extra comforter will do the trick—anything to provide a little fluff. “So what do you think of Hunter?” I ask, pulling out clothes and hanging them in the provided “wardrobe.” Basically, it’s a hanging metal cage beautifully wrapped in fabric. A zipper along the front grants access. I didn’t bring a lot of clothing, so it will do.
“He’s cute. A little outgoing in a hyperactive kind of way, but he’s fun. I don’t think he has a clue that he’s a good looking guy and it’s kind of refreshing.”
Dakota pegs Hunter perfectly. His childlike exuberance makes him enjoyable to be around.
“Before you say anything more, I have a boyfriend at home.” Dakota places a blouse on a hanger and stuffs it in her closet.
Secretly, I was thinking they’d make a cute couple. “It must be hard to be separated for four months.”
“It’s what we needed. A little time apart will tell us if we miss each other or not. I guess you could say it’s a test.” Suddenly distracted, Dakota looks past me. “We sure have a nice balcony.” Her eyebrows furrow. “It looks as though there’s another door out there.”
Off the balcony, there is indeed another door. “Let’s check it out.” I stand on our balcony for a moment, breathing in the fresh air that smells so different from home. The air holds a slight tinge of cooked seafood and a whiff of exotic spices I can’t name. It’s unusual, but not unpleasant. As a matter of fact, it makes me feel as though I’m somewhere foreign and I quite like the constant reminder.
