I didn’t dare say anything. If I allowed even the tiniest crack, the entire dam would burst. I ran my hands over my quilt, feeling the little stitches and the cottony smoothness. The forsythia that Yi Po had sewn on my quilt was not so new looking anymore — it was starting to blend in with the rest of the quilt.
Maybe I should give her something to remember me by. Why hadn’t I thought of this before, buying her a present? I looked around the room. I had a trophy from the student-faculty basketball game. I loved it, my first win as a coach, but it would be something for her to show her friends, to tell them about her time here.
I picked it up and walked over to her. At first she was too busy rearranging her clothes to notice me, but then she saw me, holding out my gift.
“Wo yao gei ni zhei ge …” I want to give you this … What was the word for trophy?
Yi Po took the trophy in both hands and looked at it tenderly. Then she gently put it back in my hands. “Mei kong,” she said simply. She had no space. But then she picked up the digital camera Dad had given her a few days ago. She put her arm around me and held the camera at arm’s length. She wanted a picture of us.
“Deng yi xia,” I said. Wait a minute. I took the camera from her and fiddled with the settings so that it could take a picture for us. I set it on my desk and flipped the monitor around so we could see ourselves.
We settled on my bed and stared at our tiny image. Yi Po gave me a little poke to make me smile. The camera whirred and clicked. I picked up the camera and examined the picture — not bad. We were both turned slightly toward each other, as if our picture were taken during a conversation. I showed it to Yi Po.
Then we both said, “Ni xiang Po Po.” You look like Po Po. We both laughed. I closed my eyes and thought of five things about Po Po. She thought Hawaiian pizza was one of the greatest inventions of all time. She had one pair of jeans. Her favorite lipstick color was Blooming Rose. She remembered phone numbers in Chinese.
She had a sister. A sister who ruined my perfect year, and made it better.
I took the camera to the den so that I could download a copy of the photograph onto our computer. Dian nao, I thought. The Chinese word for computer literally means electric brain. I was still translating a lot of Chinese literally in my head like that, but my Chinese was getting better.
Mom came in and watched me set up the cable to the camera. She put one hand on my shoulder. “We’re going to miss her, aren’t we?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything until I swallowed the lump in my throat. Mom squeezed my shoulder. “Yeah, we just took this picture,” I said tightly.
“Good photo,” she said.
I checked the settings to make sure that Yi Po still had a copy of the photo on her camera. Then I disconnected the cable.
“Mom, how do you say, I will miss you, in Chinese?”
Mom thought a moment. “You can say, Wo hui xiang ni.”
I walked back to my room and handed the camera to Yi Po. She took it from me and tucked it into her carry-on bag. A bubble of laughter floated up from downstairs.
Just say it. You’re going to be in a crowd of people soon, and you won’t get to talk to her in private.
“Wo hui xiang ni,” I choked out. As I said the words, I realized what they meant. Xiang was the Chinese word for think. I will think of you. I wondered if Yi Po knew that I meant more than that, that I didn’t want her to go. Was I being too literal again?
I didn’t have to wonder. Yi Po zipped up her suitcase and then turned and put her arms around me. Her eyes were bright.
“I will miss you, too,” she said gently, careful to enunciate each word.
I will think of you. I will miss you. We understood each other perfectly.
I would like to thank: the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators and their Work-in-Progress grant program; my teacher, Mary Quattlebaum; my beta readers: Rebecca Borden, Carolyn Brady, Elizabeth Hadaway, Jennifer Buxton Haupt, Dorothea Starr LeBeau, Sharon Smith, Gretchen Starr-LeBeau; my fabulous Tuesday-night group: Anamaria Anderson, Moira Donohue, Marty Rhodes Figley, Anna Hebner, Carla Heymsfeld, Jacqueline Jules, Adele Leach, Suzy McIntire, Liz Macklin, Madelyn Rosenberg, Martha Taylor; Lindsay Davis and Ken Wright of Writers House; my editor, Lisa Sandell.
No acknowledgment would be complete without recognizing my sources of support: my mom, who told me I could do anything; my dad, who made me believe writing was in my blood; my husband, who wrote “writer” on our tax forms and has never (never!) once wavered in his support; our three beautiful, funny children; my amazing extended family; Fairfax County Public Library; A&J Restaurant, which makes absolutely inspirational bowls of soup. Get the Shanghai-style wonton soup.
Wendy Wan-Long Shang writes, “The Great Wall of Lucy Wu was inspired by a relative in China who was conducting genealogy research. When my mother sent him copies of family photos, he responded with awe and gratitude: He thought those images had been lost forever in the course of China’s difficult history. In an age when a digital photo can be multiplied across the Internet in an instant, the idea of a lost photograph sent me searching for a way to connect a modern-day character to a very different time and place.”
Throughout her life, Wendy has worked with children and books. She has been the office manager of a literacy organization, a juvenile justice attorney, a Court-Appointed Special Advocate, a tutor in elementary schools and a juvenile facility, and an early literacy volunteer with the public library. Of all the jobs, though, Wendy loves being a mother and author the best, always relishing the moment when a child finds that “perfect book” and can’t wait to find out what happens next.
Wendy lives in suburban Washington, DC, and is the recipient of a Work-in-Progress Grant from the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators. The Great Wall of Lucy Wu is her first children’s book.
This book was originally published in hardcover by Scholastic Press in 2011.
Copyright © 2011 by Wendy Wan-Long Shang. All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
This edition first printing, January 2013
e-ISBN 978-0-545-51033-2
Cover art © 2011 by Penelope Dullaghan
Cover design by Marijka Kostiw
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
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