Read Online Outrun the Moon by Stacey Lee - Free Book Online Page A

that the sweetest fruit comes from the trees that have been given time to grow.” She lances Ling-Ling’s ma with her all-seeing eyes.
    â€œCome, Ling-Ling.” The woman ushers her daughter away.
    Ma takes the cake from me, knowing I will not eat it.
    In the back of the crowd, a figure leans against a wall posted with Chinese scrolls, his faded newsboy cap pulled low. Tom could be just another onlooker with his dark Chinese suit and slipper shoes. But unlike the others, his presence fills me with something warm and healing, like the first sip of soup to a starving man.
    Jack presses something into my hand: our Indian head penny. “Take this for your adventures.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “Don’t spend it on candy.”
    A hot lump forms in my throat. “I won’t.”
    A roofless blond-colored car pulls up, engine rattling
clackety-clack
and gas lamps turning the street white. A black man jumps out of the driver’s seat and pulls his goggles to his forehead. “Evening. You must be Mercy. I’m William.”
    â€œGood evening, sir.”
    People inch closer to the vehicle, ogling its shiny chrome and velvet seats.
    Jack attaches himself to me. “Why do you have to go?”
    My chest tightens, and I suddenly wonder if the cost of attending St. Clare’s is too dear after all. Monsieur Du Lac made it clear that Jack and my parents could never visit since it would expose the deception. I will be missing out on a whole springtime of Jack’s life, and nothing can replace that.
    But one day, when I can buy him more than the bones of the ox, it will be worth it.
    I go because Ba is training you for the laundry, and you haven’t even lost your first tooth. Because Ba works sixteen grueling hours a day, and he needs a rest. And because, baby brother, our ma believes in me.
    I bend down so our faces are even. “One day, we shall sail to the South China Sea. Maybe we’ll even get a peek at Ba’s Precipitous Pillars.” Ba was always talking about those sandstone towers he saw as a boy.
    â€œWho will do the laundry then?”
    I look him straight in the eye. “Not us. Now, if you start to miss me, place one grain of rice into my bowl. If I’m not back by the time there are enough grains to fill a soup spoon, I’ll let you throw this on our next adventure.” I show him our coin.
    Jack rubs his eyes with his fists. The bruises on his knuckles are now the shade of summer squash.
    â€œOh, Jack.” I squeeze him. “A last game of Two Frogs on a Stick?”
    It kills me when he shakes his head. He has never refused to play our game of who can make the other laugh first.
    â€œYou ready, Miss? I have another pickup to make.” The driver’s low voice is professional but not unfriendly as he opens thedoor. He already placed my travel satchel—containing my uniforms, underwear, toiletries, padded Chinese jacket with matching trousers, and of course, Mrs. Lowry’s book—into the trunk.
    â€œCome here,
dai-dai
.” Ma pulls Jack to her, strapping her arms across his thin chest.
    Ma stiffens as I hug them both. We don’t often embrace. “You’re a good girl,” she says thickly, one of the few English phrases she uses with me.
    â€œSay good-bye to Ba for me,” I tell her in Cantonese to let her know I will not forget my roots.
    â€œRemember not to be loud, and to get along with the others,” she adds sharply.
    Jack watches me get into the car. I give him a smile that he doesn’t return. Then William toots the horn, and we’re off.
    â€œThere’s a robe on the floor for your feet if you get cold.”
    â€œThank you, sir.” I spread the blanket over my toes.
    Though this is my first ride in an automobile, I cannot enjoy it. My heart aches as we leave Chinatown. The image of Jack scrubbing his eyes rips a hole in my soul the size of California.
    Twisting in my