Yi Gor blocked me with his arm before I obeyed. “It’s our money.”
“I know that.” We were testing her patience. “I’m going to put it in the bank for you. It’ll grow that way. Isn’t it better to have six dollars next year than five right now?” She held out her arm to me. “Yut Ying, what do you think?”
I was sore at her for pitting Lily against me. “I’d like to keep mine.”
“I see.” Sai Ma’s hand fell to her side. “Very well. Spend it wisely.”
She left us without another word.
Dinner was served. We children—Lily, Yi Gor, and I—sat at a table adjacent to the adults. While they laughed and chattered, we ate in silence. Then, in the middle of the meal, Mrs. Leung came over and, with her chopsticks, plucked the chicken drumstick I’d been saving for last off my plate.
“You shouldn’t eat too much.” She waved to Susu. “From now on, give Yut Ying half her usual portion.”
I was confused. “But I’ll be hungry.”
“Listen to my mother,” Sai Ma said. “She raised me. She knows what’s best for your future.”
No,I thought. Mymother knows what’s best. But I stayed quiet.
After dinner, the women retreated to the parlor for mahjong while Baba and Dr. Wong indulged in a smoke. My brother went up to his room, while I lingered as long as I could downstairs, listening for music over the clicks and clangs of the shuffling mahjong tiles. “Night over the Suzhou River” was playing on the phonograph.
I sang along, dancing my arms as I looped around the living room and mimicked the singer I’d seen at Bastion’s. I had no audience, but I didn’t care. I was content to hear my voice resonate against the empty walls.
As the song ended, I started for the stairs. That was when I spotted the persimmon that Lily hadn’t wanted, still in the corner of her chair. I picked it up and rolled it on my palm.
No one in my family had remembered my birthday. Not even Yi Gor.
There was no use being disappointed. I was twelve now, older than I’d expected to live. I still thanked the gods every day.
Sweet or bitter?I wondered, bringing the persimmon to my teeth. What would my twelfth year hold?
I took a big, big bite.
Chapter Twelve
December was rainier than usual, and a stray cat had taken to skulking about the house. He had three white freckles behind his one ear, while the rest of him was blacker than the old tar roads. Certain he and his missing ear were an ill omen, Susu and Tingting shrieked whenever he appeared and shooed him away with their mops.
The cat, however, was persistent. One thing I learned quickly: Hehatedwater. He’d chosen Gu Ma’s house because it was high on a hill, making it safer from floods. Every time he visited, rain was imminent—even if the sky was clear. I wondered whether, like me, he had a touch of demon inside that gave him this power.
On this day he came at dawn when I was cooking breakfast, prowling up to Gu Ma’s house, then climbing over the iron gate and into the myrtle bushes. I loved watching him. He moved with fearless grace, his yellow eyes catching the crowning light of the sun when he tapped on the kitchen window.
“You don’t know how lucky you are,” I told him as I set out a bowl of milk. “Coming and going as you please, getting free food whenever you’re hungry.”
If I tried to pet him, he’d growl, but he started bearing little presents for me—dead garden snakes, lizards, even spiders. He’d drop them in my room before scuttling out. I never knew where he went until one day, during a particularly fierce rainstorm, I saw wet paw prints leading up to the third floor.
I wiped them before anyone saw. To my surprise, the trail ended in front of Lily’s door.
She’d heard my footsteps and put on her gloves, thinking I was her mother. At the sight of me, she started. “You’re not supposed to be on this floor.”
I started too, but for a different reason. As she spoke, the cat scurried out from behind a pile of books and nuzzled her ankle.
“He likes you,” I said, astonished. “I didn’t think he liked anyone.”
“He doesn’t.” Lily kept her hand on the door. She was deciding whether or not to trust me. “He likes luncheon meat.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s American.” She tossed her gloves onto her bed. “Canned pork, I think. My school serves it with macaroni and chicken broth, and I steal some to eat at home when Ma—”
