Red Thread Sisters (9781101591857) Read Online Free Page B

in a pan, ripped through Wen’s body. As her new mother bent closer, Wen turned her head the other way.
    She heard her mother sigh, then pat the pillow near Wen’s hair as she got up to leave.
    As soon as she was sure her mother wasn’t coming back, Wen sank into her soft bed, the sheets as fragrant as the peonies that grew behind the orphanage. When she rolled over, no wires poked her back. No smell of musky hay filled her nostrils. Instinctively, Wen reached for Shu Ling’s cot.
    At the orphanage, as soon as the aunties left, Wen and Shu Ling would push their cots together so they could talk during the night. Only Shu Ling knew that Wen was afraid of the dark. Sometimes, when Wen heard rats scampering under the beds, she clung to Shu Ling. Worse than the dark were the rats! Whispering in Wen’s ear, Shu Ling recited the nursery rhymes she’d learned at the orphanage when she was little. Shu Ling wove together verses about kites and ladybugs and two tigers. And then, with Shu Ling’s stories drowning out the scampering rats, Wen wasn’t afraid anymore.
    When the nights got cold and the aunties shut the furnace off to save coal, Wen and Shu Ling huddled in Wen’s cot, warming each other. Shu Ling sang the quieter lullabies, one about a jasmine flower, another about a mewing kitten, and another about a bright moon, quiet wind, and a cradle rocking. Often as she listened to Shu Ling’s voice, so sweet and delicate, Wen fell asleep. Sometimes, though, when Shu Ling thought Wen was asleep, Wen heard Shu Ling singing herself an old Chinese lullaby:
    Â 
    Only Mama is the best in all the world.
With a mama, you have the most valued treasure.
Jump into Mama’s heart and
You will have endless happiness.
    Â 
    Wen always hoped Shu Ling would fall asleep during that song, which was way too sad for singing.
    Even now, as she lay in her new bed in her new room with her new family, Wen listened for Shu Ling’s lullabies and the cries of babies waking in the night. This house was too still, and her room was too big. In the darkness, Wen couldn’t see the pretty purple of the walls. The big space around her seemed ready to swallow her.
    Wen stretched out her arm, still seeking Shu Ling’s cot. Her fingers met only air. She listened for Shu Ling’s soft, even breathing. The room was silent. She closed her eyes and tried to see Shu Ling’s face. She tried to imagine her wide smile and her braid, tied back with a shoelace. But all Wen saw was darkness.
    Wen covered her head with her pillow so her new family wouldn’t hear her sobs. When she was too tired to cry anymore, she raised her head from under her pillow, got out of bed, and walked across the dark hall to Emily’s room. Quietly, she climbed into the cot beside Emily’s bed. She pretended Emily’s breathing belonged to Shu Ling, sleeping safely beside her after all.

five
    Wen awoke to sunlight streaming across her bed.
    Oh, no! She’d forgotten to feed the babies! How had she slept through the big metal gong the aunties rang every morning?
“Quai dian! Quai dian!”
Hurry, Auntie Min and Auntie Lu Chu—the baby aunties—always scolded. Every morning, Wen scurried to the stove, where she stirred the corn porridge, sugar, and water for the babies’ bottles. In the next room, the babies wailed. Wen propped up the babies, tilted the bottles against their chests, and slipped the nipples in their tiny mouths so they could drink while she sped to the next aisle. She saw babies raise their limp arms toward her, wanting to be held.
No time
, she would whisper.
Later.
    Now Wen sat upright, listening for the babies. Then she remembered. She was in America.
    She heard her father’s deep laughter and smelled new, unfamiliar food. Wen rose from her cot in Emily’s room, folded her blanket neatly, and arranged it at the foot of the bed. Then she tiptoed down the hall to the