“All fine. I took care of it.”
“Really? When is your mother coming back to the shop? I want to ask her—”
“She’s not coming back,” I said quickly. “Not right away. She went to visit a cousin. Up north. Family emergency.”
Which was true enough, in its own way.
But Yún was studying me suspiciously. “For how long?”
“A week.”
“What about the shop?”
“I’m watching over it. You’re—” I nearly said, You’re to get a holiday, but Ma mi never gave holidays. Quickly, I snatched up a bundle of old books, tied together with a string. “Here,” I said. “Ma mi said you were to deliver these to Shou-xin today. He needs extra tutoring and she wants you to help him. Take as long as you need.”
Yún’s gaze dropped to the top book. An odd expression crossed her face, something between laughter and puzzlement and exasperation. Inside me, Chen’s laughter
tickled at my brain. You gave her that stack of old books about love philters for old men, he grunted. The ones your mother wanted to sell to the junk man.
Gah. My face burned hotter than before. When Yún glanced up, I held my breath.
“Okay,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Whatever she wants.”
She was laughing at me. Never mind. At least the trick worked.
We muttered a few more words at each other—I doubt either of us was paying too much attention to what the other person said—then Yún left with the books in hand. I let out a sigh of relief. It seemed too easy that she believed my stupid explanation. Unless it was true what I thought about her liking Shou-xin . . .
You don’t look happy, Chen commented.
I am. I just . . . Oh never mind. Let’s get back to work.
We finished totaling up the bills and taxes. I picked up the next folder, which turned out to be a list of extra-special, super-private students. Rich ones, who paid exorbitant fees for special tutoring. Curse it, I had forgotten about them. Hurriedly I scribbled out a note, saying that their teacher was called away to a special conference and so would be unavailable for the next month.
You won’t be back in a month, Chen said.
I might, I said.
More like three. Or five.
Ignoring him, I took out a dozen sheets of our best rice paper, copied the note over twelve times, and set the sheets aside to dry. Then I rooted around in the stationery box for the special gold-edged sheets Ma mi always used for her best customers. Curse it again, there were only six left. I’d have to add the stationer’s to my list of ten thousand errands. Now it was ten thousand and one errands.
Meanwhile, Chen had not stopped watching me with those big disapproving eyes.
What? I said. What’s wrong?
You should tell Yún.
I slammed the brush onto the desk. We talked about that already. I can’t tell her. If I do, she’ll try to stop me.
She won’t stop you. She might even help you.
Only so she can boss me around.
Chen laughed and grunted. A horrible stink filled the air.
I pinched my nose shut. Chen.
What? You are farting with your mouth, stupid pig-boy. Yún is your friend. She’s Lian’s friend, too—