The Many Meanings of Meilan: Chapters 28–32

I blink. Where was I going? Right — the courtyard. To figure out my dilemma with the Veterans Day project. The one I’m probably going to fail.

The center of my family has always been Nǎinai. But instead of wanting to be alone like Tao, she kept us all close, living in the same apartment building and working in the bakery.
The bakery. Tao must be reminding me, prodding me, to get on with the next step in my Family Reunion plan.

“Lánlán!” he says in surprise. “Where are you? Is everything all right?”
I hurry to reassure him. “We’re all fine. I just called to, uh, talk to Xing.” I probably should’ve thought out what I was going to say, but when a tree spirit nudges you to do something, you don’t dawdle.

Foxman strokes his goatee and studies me. “Melanie, I’m concerned about you,” he says in a soft, compassionate voice that raises the hairs on the back of my neck. “I feel like you’re having a hard time adjusting, and I’d like for us to talk about that.”

The principal sighs. “By your own admission, you are rejecting becoming part of Clifton’s community. Can you understand how that makes the other students feel?” He leans forward, his face hovering above mine. “They feel confused and uncomfortable around you. That’s right,” he continues, seeing the dismay on my face. “Some have even said that they feel like you are betraying their values.”

His demon eyes drill into mine, and his words rise over me like shadows. Inappropriate, they whisper. Not white enough, not American enough, they cackle. Understand? they hoot.

My grandfather is the most honorable man I know. How can Foxman say that Gōnggong isn’t worthy of attending a silly school event? I want to scream, but I can’t. Mist binds my mouth and the beetles eat my voice. All I can do is stand there, humiliated and angry.

“You should do it anyway,” he says in a low voice.
Do what? I turn my head to look at him quizzically, and we almost bump noses....He clears his throat. “Invite your grandfather anyway. As a veteran, not to just sit in the audience."

Go up with everyone else and introduce him. No one will even know he wasn’t invited. And by then, it’ll be too late for Foxman to do anything. He won’t risk causing a scene by making you and Gōnggong leave.”
It’s a tempting plan. Māma always talks about honoring our elders. What better way to do that than have the whole community give their respect to Gōnggong? And tricking a fox demon like Mr. Reynard would be so satisfying.

"...I see you for who you really are. A devious, crafty girl with no respect for others.”
Funny, that’s exactly what I think of you, I want to say. But I don’t. I look back at him emotionlessly, but inside, the beetles are getting agitated. I swallow them down, waiting this out until Foxman reveals whatever trick he’s trying to play on me.
My not talking only seems to enrage him further.

I follow him to the one place in the school where I feel like I belong — the courtyard garden. But it isn’t a garden anymore. As the haze clears from my eyes, I see destruction everywhere. The sunflowers have been pulled up by their roots, their bright faces crushed by the boots of trolls. Broken branches litter the walkway, and the pea vines have been torn off the trellis to lie in wilted heaps on the ground.

Mr. Reynard snorts. “You can’t fool me. I bet you’re thrilled to see the ruin you’ve made of this courtyard. All the hard work the teachers and students put into it over the years is gone — just because you had to show everyone how different you are. I knew the moment you stepped into my office that you were going to make trouble. You people have no regard for the feelings of others or the sanctity of life.”

“Oh, please,” he laughs, and his sharp canines glisten. “I’ve personally seen you in here when you weren’t supposed to be. We have eyewitnesses that saw you in the courtyard numerous times, even after you knew it was off-limits. Apart from the eighth-grade science classes, which are supervised, you are the only person who comes in here.” His lip curls in contempt.

An old black-and-white photo catches my eye. A young man with a pointed chin and narrow eyes. Below his name are the words, “Vietnam War. POW-MIA,” followed by a logo. It shows the silhouette of a man inside a circle. His head is bent forward toward a string of barbed wire.

Mr. Reynard snaps, “Your parents don’t seem to want to be located. Wait on the bench behind Mrs. Perry until they come to retrieve you.” He points to his door.
I bypass the bench and approach Mrs. Perry. She looks at me with only the tiniest shred of sympathy, but at least it’s there. I clutch my stomach. She nods curtly and writes me a hall pass.

Mr. Reynard snaps, “Your parents don’t seem to want to be located. Wait on the bench behind Mrs. Perry until they come to retrieve you.” He points to his door.
I bypass the bench and approach Mrs. Perry. She looks at me with only the tiniest shred of sympathy, but at least it’s there. I clutch my stomach. She nods curtly and writes me a hall pass.

Foxman narrows his eyes at me. “I hope you take this time to think about your behavior. You need to realize there are consequences for your actions.” His voice is gloating.

But Logan immediately picks up on it. He glares at me. “Every time you look at me what?”
I owe him the truth. I can’t leave it unsaid. My voice trembles. “I see Liam.”
The devastation and rage on his face makes me feel like a monster.

"...Mù yǐ chéng zhōu,” I say without thinking. Oops. Wrong language.
“What does that mean?” Logan doesn’t sound snarky, though. Just curious.
“Um. Something my mom said to me. Literally, it means a tree ceases to be when you make it a boat. You can’t change it back.”

The rock I’d been kicking at the other day stares up at me darkly, like Fei, the one-eyed bull with a serpent’s tail. Seeing Fei is a sign of impending misfortune.

The rock I’d been kicking at the other day stares up at me darkly, like Fei, the one-eyed bull with a serpent’s tail. Seeing Fei is a sign of impending misfortune.

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I study Logan. He sounds so confident, so matter-of-fact. “And why, exactly, are you helping me with this? There’s nothing in it for you. Except maybe getting suspended if Foxman finds out you arranged to have an extra chair on the stage.”

“Hey, I tilled his garden, remember? He likes me. I figure that whenever I see him outside, I can help him plant stuff and ask him questions at the same time. You know, all casual, like I’m just trying to get to know him. And then I’ll tell you what I learned so you can write it down.”

“So why does he need to bring lunch? Can’t he just eat the food that the café serves?”
“Āiyā,” Māma says in exasperation. “How you not know American expression, ‘no such thing as free lunch’?” Her lips pinch together, and I suddenly realize that she’s trying not to smile.
“Māma! You just made a joke in English.” I grin at her. “And it was funny!”
“I always funny,” she says.

My father frowns and sighs. Great. I’ve managed to annoy both my parents in less than fifteen minutes. “Lan, ‘chīfànle méiyǒu?’ does not always mean ‘have you eaten.’ It is also just a casual greeting between friends, like saying ‘How are you doing?’”
“Oh,” I say, taken aback. “I’m sorry.” How did I never learn this fact in all my years of Chinese school?