Chapter 2

2: 2

That first dinner, I couldn't keep my head on straight.

Aunt Marla kept piling meat into my bowl until it stood in a little mountain.

"Eat more. Look how skinny you are, it'd make a wolf cry."

Grandma dropped a goose leg on top of it too.

"A young girl's got to eat plenty of meat. A little meat on the bones, that's what looks good."

Uncle Dale grinned that easy grin of his and pushed a plate of sweet-and-sour crispy pork in front of me.

"This one's got a sweet-and-sour taste to it. Give it a try, see if you like it."

I kept my head down and shoveled rice, careful not to let the tears fall into my bowl.

Back home, Dad always said girls would get married off sooner or later, and if I wanted to eat, I'd better earn it somehow.

And my stepmother was always telling him a girl had to watch her figure.

So after I finished every last chore, all I got was greens and tofu. It had been a long time since I'd had meat.

The moment dinner was over, I jumped up and followed them into the kitchen to help.

Terrified that if I was one step too slow I'd leave a bad impression, and one day they'd just send me packing.

But I'd barely picked up the dish rag when a big hand reached in from behind me.

Will, scowling, hoisted me off the floor one-handed and set me right back down on the living room couch.

"Who're you trying to shame here? Hold your hands out, let me see."

I obediently held them out.

He pinched my wrist and turned it over, his brow knitting even tighter.

"You think you're cut out for this kind of work? Look at these soft little hands. Go rest, now."

Done scolding me, he dug a fistful of plump white hazelnuts out of his pocket and poured the whole clattering handful into my palms.

"Here. Go crack these open and keep yourself busy."

I closed my hands around them, his warmth still there in my palms.

Aunt Marla saw the look on my face and smiled, then reached over and tucked me against her to watch TV with Grandma.

"Silly girl. This is your home. You came here to live, not to be the maid."

That night, lying in the soft warm bedding, I couldn't sleep again.

It all felt like a dream, too good to be real, and I was afraid that once I woke, the dream would end too.

But from that day on, it happened every single day.

Grandma rode her trike to the early market before dawn, and came back with the cargo bed full of good things.

Crisp melon so sweet it caught in your throat, fried dough straight out of the pan, soy milk still steaming.

"Sweetheart, Grandma got you a breakfast wrap too. Come eat it while it's hot."

Uncle Dale was even more over the top, at least four hearty dishes every meal, and never the same menu twice in one day.

Aunt Marla was just like Mom, always eager to buy me new clothes and dress me up like a sweet country girl.

Will grumbled about it every day. "How come I never get treated like this?"

One glare from Aunt Marla and he clammed right up.

But he still crouched down to tie my shoes, reminded me to dry my hair, and walked on the outside of me whenever we went out.

In less than a month, my cheeks filled out and my color came back.

I started to crave that warmth, and grew even more afraid of losing it.

One night I got up to use the bathroom and happened to glimpse Aunt Marla in the little room, lighting incense before Mom's portrait.

"Sis, don't you worry. I'll raise our girl into someone to be proud of, I promise you. You can rest easy now."

"I won't let her suffer any more."

I clapped a hand over my mouth, backed away without a sound, and crouched in the corner a long time.

When I got up, I had my fists clenched tight. I could not be a burden to this family.

Aunt Marla had shaken me awake to it. I had to work hard, so the people who loved me could truly rest easy.

Ever since Mom got sick half a year ago, I'd been lost in a fog, and I'd fallen far behind in my studies.

The textbooks in the North weren't the same as the South's either, so catching up now meant every problem felt like starting from scratch.

I threw myself into studying like a madwoman.

Up before dawn every day memorizing vocabulary, never in bed before two in the morning.

A week later, I sat with a math test in my hands, staring at the glaring red X marks, so frustrated the tears just kept coming.

That night, Will kicked my bedroom door open.

He snatched the test out of my hands, his face full of disgust.

"Are you a tangled ball of yarn come to life? How do you get these easy problems wrong?"

His mouth was harsh, but his hand picked up a red pen, and he sat down beside me.

"Watch close. This is the point they're testing you on, got it? A sparrow's got more wits than you."

When he finished, he tossed the workbook back in front of me.

"Bring me the corrections tomorrow. Stop walking around every day with your brain all gummed up."

He had his own SATs to prepare for, yet he gave up every scrap of his free time to be my teacher.

In two years, my grades shot up from the bottom of the class all the way to number one in the whole school.

I looked at my report card, at the name Clementine Henson, already changed to share Aunt Marla's surname.

For the first time, I understood that being loved without reserve really could work miracles.

But I never imagined it was only a brief calm before the storm.