Sai Ma’s praise tickled my skin with delight, but still, I wished my sister were here. No matter how wicked I was, Mama never punished me by withholding food.
I supposed things were different in Hong Kong. I focused on my pork, which Baba was saying to make less salty next time, and tried not to think about it.
The next morning, it took seven tries before I turned invisible. At last, a mantle of glittering cold fell upon me, chasing away my room’s sticky heat, and I let out a squeal of delight, accidentally ending the spell prematurely. The second time, I traced thelongest crack on my wall, counting to sixty before I let go. The third time, I was ready. With the largest breath I could take, I tiptoed up the stairs to Lily’s room.
One, two, three.
By the count of ten, I’d reached her door. It was slightly ajar, and I peered in.
My sister was kneeling beside her bed, her head nestled in the crook of her arm. She was playing by herself, talking to two dolls in her hands. “Mommy came back with a new baby today,” she crooned. “Look.”
She held my doll upright, making the mother doll wrap her arms around her new daughter.
My shoulders melted. How different she looked from the petulant girl I’d met yesterday. I could understand why she might dislike me, but our encounter had been strange in so many ways. Why did she think she wasn’t pretty? Was it because she wore spectacles?
Her cheeks bloomed pink, rivaling the petals of fresh spring peonies, and she had cat eyes, wily and bright. Even her hair was lustrous like her mother’s, secured into two plump buns on the sides of her head, ribbons dangling.
“Mommy will take care of you,” Lily said to the doll. “It’s hard feeling at home in a new place, but a story helps.” She opened one of her many books. “How about I tell you a story?”
A lump swelled in my throat.Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five.
I’d seen enough. Best to get away before my breath ran out. I swung toward the stairs when I heard the floor creak.
Sai Ma appeared in the hallway carrying a tray of leftovers from last night’s dinner. The hem of her cheongsam brushed against the floor as she approached her daughter’s room.
I pressed my back to the wall, careful not to make a sound.
Sai Ma entered Lily’s bedroom without knocking.
“Do I have to go back to school, Mama?” Lily asked. “I don’t like it there. The other girls are cruel to me, one of them even scratched—”
“I don’t want to hear it, Lily. We’ve been through this.”
“Please?” Lily’s eyes were welling with tears, her cheeks wet. “Mama? I’ll stay inside all day, I promise. I just want to come home.”
“You already come home once a week.”
“Please, I’ll be good, I won’t—”
“You’ll come home when you’re sixteen. Once you’ve finished your studies.”
“Sixteen? But that’s years from now.” Lily’s voice trembled. “Please—”
“Enough,” said Sai Ma, cutting her off. “A good daughter is obedient. A good daughter does not question her parents’ intentions. This is what’s best for you.”
Lily fell silent. It wasn’t the answer she wanted.
Forty-three, forty-four, forty-five . . .
My shadow flickered across the walls, and when I heard the click of Sai Ma turning the key to lock Lily’s door, my panic mounted. I hurried down the stairs, my hand clamped over my mouth as my air ran out. I lost my breath when I arrived on the landing, and my shadow appeared on the parquet, giving me away.
“What are you doing on the stairs?” Sai Ma asked, looking down at me from the top of the stairwell.
I practically jumped. “Is... is Lily all right?”
My stepmother’s eyes narrowed. “Why wouldn’t she be?”
Was it my imagination, or did Sai Ma sound different? Her tone was brusque, stripped of its usual gentleness.
