Page 98 of If You Could See the Sun
“I bought it for you. With my own money, of course,” I add hastily.
Mama opens the box very carefully, as if afraid she might break it with one wrong move, and a bottle of expensive hand cream falls out into her open palm. She doesn’t say anything, just stares at the pretty bottle, at the delicate flower print snaking up its side, the recognizable brand name printed on top.
“I... I know your hands are always super dry from work,” I explain, more because the silence makes me nervous than anything. Will she think it’s a waste of money? “And when we were at the store the other day, I just thought, I might as well... It’s apparently supposed to help heal scars too.”I wring my hands together. “But if you don’t like it, I could always return it—”
Mama throws her arms around me, pulling me close. “Sha haizi,” she whispers into my hair.Silly child.
And as I lean against her, breathing in her familiar scent, I think,Maybe I was right earlier.
Maybe everything really will be okay.
Three long phone calls and countless rounds of emails later (all of which are ominously titled:Re: Alice Incident), I’m standing back outside the Airington school gates, a light bag in my hands.
After some negotiating, the school and Peter’s parents and I came to an agreement: I’m to leave Airington this December, but I get to spend my last few days here, finishing up my coursework for the semester and saying goodbye to my friends and teachers.
“Name?”
The security guard stares at me through the iron bars, and I’m struck by a sudden, overwhelming sense of déjà vu.
“Alice Sun,” I tell him, and offer a small smile. It’s weird how much I’ll miss everything about this place, now that I know I’m leaving—even this guy who can never seem to remember my name.
And who’s now watching me suspiciously.
“Why are you smiling?”
“Nothing, just...” I gesture to the deep blue sky above us, not a single winter cloud in sight. “It’s a nice day, that’s all.”
He glances up, then back at me, then up again, confusion shadowing his features. He looks young, maybe somewhere in his midtwenties. I wonder if he’s just graduated from college, how long he’s been living in Beijing, why he chose to work here. I hate that I’m only noticing these things now. “Uh, yeah, I guess it is...” He clears his throat. “Your year level?”
“Twelve.”
But I’m not the one who answers.
“Hi, Mr. Chen,” I greet as he draws closer to the gates, hoping he can’t detect the nervous wobble in my voice. He’s always been the teacher I respect the most—and the one I’m most afraid of disappointing.
Judging from his expression, the way his eyes dart to my bag and understanding flickers over them, he’s well up-to-date with the wholeAlice Incident.Yet he doesn’t appear angry, exactly.
“Well, don’t just stand there like a stranger,” he says, waving me forward. “Come in. There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”
“If I asked you about the main point ofMacbethnow, what would you say?” Mr. Chen asks as we enter his office.
It’s quiet here. Clean. The bookshelves stacked but tidy, the walls almost hidden beneath rows of plaques and certificates from Harvard, Peking University, TED. I’m so busy staring I almost forget he’s asked me a question.
“Um...” I scramble to collect my thoughts. There’s a double meaning in there, I’m sure of it. “That...no action is without consequence? That ambition should not go unchecked?”
He nods, satisfied, and motions for me to take a seat. “Good, good. Just wanted to set my conscience at ease first—but so long as you’ve learned your lesson...”
“I have,” I say quickly. “Really.”
He nods again, then says, “I heard you’ll be leaving Airington after this semester. Have you decided which school to attend next year?”
“Not yet, no. There are certain...limitations I have to work through.”
Mr. Chen doesn’t look surprised. After my parents visited the school, I guess most people have realized I don’t come from one of the wealthier families.
“Well then.” He claps his hands together suddenly, startling me from my thoughts. “I might have just the solution.”
I stare at him. “You—you do?”
