“Did you get into a fight?”
He turned away. “Leave me alone.”
“You’re hurt. Let me go boil you an egg.”
“Are you deaf? I said leave me alone.”
“You need to roll all that bad blood out of your eye,” I insisted. “It’ll only take a minute.” I started out the door, but Yi Gor stood in my way.
I was no stranger to my brother’s antics. He used to pick fights with Dai Gor and purposefully end up with a black eye—all for a morsel of affection from Ah Ma. Here, he was doing the same thing for a crumb from Baba. He might as well have set fire to the house. Our father was always in his den smoking, always calling Yi Gor by our older brother’s name instead of Syun Kit. Only I hadn’t realized how much it bothered him until tonight.
“Baba’s not going to pay attention to you because you got your face bashed.”
My brother’s eyes narrowed. “He’s not going to send you to school, either.”
I opened my mouth then closed it. “I know.”
“Since when did you stop being stupid?”
“I’m not stupid. I’m just . . .”
“A baby?” Yi Gor suggested. “Babies are stupid.”
I’m disappointed,I thought, but I buried the confession with a breath. “I think I’ve misjudged Sai Ma.”
“Oh?”
“She told me to stop asking about school.” I didn’t give Yi Gor a chance to say I told you so. “Her promises are about as real as the mole she draws on her cheek, and she says one thing, then does another. Also, isn’t it strange how she treats Lily? She locks her in her room, hardly ever talks about her—”
“What’s strange about that?” Yi Gor interrupted. “All daughters are unwanted. You should know that from Ah Ma. What’s strange is everything else in this house. Ask yourself, if we’re so rich, then why do they need me to drive a truck? Why are you cooking dinner and sewing in the factory? Why does Gu Ma bolt her bedroom door at night when she sleeps?”
I looked at him in surprise, impressed. He was more observant than I’d given him credit for.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked. “You look like you’re dying.”
I realized that I was folded forward, my hands clenched at my rib cage.
“Stomach hurts,” I replied through the rise of another cramp.
“Here,” he said, tossing a glass bottle without warning. “This’ll help.”
I was bad at catching and fumbled the bottle, so it landed on my bed with a soft plunk. I picked it up. He’d bought me a soda. My very first.
“I don’t know how to open it.”
“You’re so useless, Ying.” Sighing, my brother popped the top open against the corner of the dresser.
The soda was lukewarm, but I didn’t mind. Bubbles fizzed against the roof of my mouth, and a burp soon escaped my throat, gassy and ticklish. It made me laugh.
“Happy birthday,” said Yi Gor.
I was surprised he’d remembered. “You’re three weeks late.”
“I had no money three weeks ago,” he retorted. He tilted his soda to mine, clinking bottles, and we drank. I savored his familiar company. It had been a long time since we were together like this.
“Do you miss Mama?” I asked.
“No.”
