Chasing Moonflowers, page 15
Ling scanned the page, comparing the list of names to Aunt Marcella’s list. “What did you ask the other students?”
“Lineage, last names. It was no trouble at all.” Emma examined her nails. “Everyone has a story. A platform and an eager ear are all that they needed.”
“You would be a great journalist,” Ling admitted. Her eyes stopped at Annie’s name.
“You think?” Emma looked elated and crossed her arms on top of the desk. Lying her head on her forearms, she let her face relax. “If only women could have careers. Which names interest you?”
Ling understood Emma meant proper ladies when she said “women.” Plenty of women had jobs of course, but not those of Emma’s class. Those with status and wealth couldn’t and didn’t work. They did not have passions like the low born.
“Is this correct?” Ling stared at the description of Annie’s relations.
“As certain as I could extract.” Emma straightened her back.
Annie’s last name was Sousa. But Emma’s notes also showed a relationship to the Eggers family.
“She hesitated when she gave me the second name. Perhaps the family is not on good terms. Her ties with Portugal and then Macau are obvious…I talked with her a little longer than the others.” Emma reached out and touched Ling’s shoulders gently. “Is something wrong? You are tensed all the way up to your ears.”
Ling’s tone turned serious. “Did Annie have anything to say about an estranged relative who lives on the peninsula?” Even with Lady Tun deceased, her confessions in the letters reverberated now in Ling’s mind. Had Lord Eggers been privy to Lady Tun’s corruption of children?
“Only that Annie wasn’t allowed to see her.” Emma shrugged. “Lady Tun apparently didn’t do well with children.”
“I think… I think I found a way to ask the Chief of Police to help,” Ling said. “Let’s not draw attention.” Ling peered at the other students, who were beginning to turn their heads towards their conversation.
“What do you have?” Emma touched a finger to her cheek. Strands of purple radiated in her hazel eyes.
Ling shifted her lips from side to side, overwhelmed. What had transpired since they had last spoken was too much. Her aunt’s condition seemed hopeless. The fact that her mother had suggested an apprenticeship with Wupo annoyed her.
Emma continued. “Be careful, okay? Ling, you’re the smartest person I know, but in negotiation, it is the most patient and quiet person who usually wins.” Emma put her hand over Ling’s. The warmth felt reassuring.
Ling looked earnestly into Emma’s eyes. “I should get going. Can you cover for me if I’m late? I have to go see Miss James.”
Emma smiled. “I always do.”
Twenty-Five
With Miss James’s note in her pocket, Ling hurried down the hallway. Without students congregating along the edges, the corridor seemed cold and stoic. Conversations echoed faintly from the teachers’ office. Wheels squeaked behind her. Helpers were transporting hedges cut into different shapes toward the classrooms. Ling stopped to peek at the tea stations, expecting Miss James to be chatting with the nuns. However, her teacher wasn’t with the others. Ling was uncertain what to do. If she asked anyone where Miss James was, she might be reproached.
Catching up to the men wheeling the plants, she cleared her throat. “Excuse me.”
The cart squealed to a halt. Their heads turned. A pale man gazed at her with cloudy eyes. His pupils blended in with his irises. Ling held her breath, noticing for the first time that odd scars ran across his chalky face. The puckered indentations in his skin could’ve been the aftermath of a rake being dragged across his face. A shiver trickled down Ling’s back. Why hadn’t she noticed before? They were so prominent.
“Must’n mind him,” said the shorter man dressed in overalls. His face was unmarred, although wrinkles pinched his tanned nose. “What is it, little Miss?”
“Where is Classroom 204?” The building had been converted from a missionary to a school piece by piece, without an overall plan. Consequently, not all stairways went to the expected places. Ling stepped further from the cart. One of the evergreens had been cut into the shape of a sitting rabbit. She patted the animal on the head. The soft needles bent under her palm.
Both men stared blankly.
“Those stairs.” The shorter one pointed down the hall.
Ling thanked them and followed the direction indicated by the tan finger. Most classes were held on the ground floor. The second level housed science labs and religious seminars. On the very top, where she wasn’t allowed to explore, were the residences of nuns and teachers. When she reached Room 204, she peeked into the dusty space, which was cluttered with boxes.
Ling’s heart soared when she spotted Miss James in a corner. The space had been repurposed with the glare of sodium grow lights. Baby plants sprouted from tubes of water, warming under glass lids. A stained-glass window illustrated Saint Fiacre with an abundant garden and sunflowers. Green and yellow light shone across the repurposed classroom.
“I see you got my note.” The teacher waved her closer. Ling looked curiously into the open boxes, finding everything from grammar guides to comics. Ling waited for Miss James to finish what she was writing. “Do you see this specimen right here?” she asked, not looking up.
Ling crouched, staring at the lighter underside of a leaf.
“A friend gifted me this from a faraway rainforest. It’s carnivorous, reproducing with its own spores. I have been watching it for weeks. Move three inches to your right, and you’ll see them better.”
“What do they eat?” Ling gazed at the fleshy colored leaves.
“Small children,” she chuckled.
Ling flinched before realizing Miss James had no idea that local children had been going missing.
“A long tube down the middle of the plant draws in its prey. At the bottom is sweet nectar. Flies and beetles crawl inside for a meal, but never make it out. Their bodies are slowly dissolved by the acidic walls.” Her big eyes sparkled in wonder at the bulbous sores. Then she covered the plant with a glass lid. “No need to breathe in those babies when they hatch. Hopefully, I can propagate an entire field of them.”
Ling wanted more time exploring the plants under the lights. They seemed so peaceful in their own dedicated space, away from the commotion of people.
Miss James stopped fretting with her notes and looked at her. “Ling, I am sorry about your uncle.”
Ling didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent. What details of Dabak’s arrest were public knowledge? The circumstances of the crime could be easily misrepresented and whipped into a frenzy. Ling’s eyes scanned the room for something else to discuss.
Miss James seemed to perceive Ling’s discomfort. “Shall we confer about the blue petals?” Her teacher pointed behind Ling, where five stacks of texts sat near the worn writing desk.
“Is the information in one of these books?” Scanning the spines, Ling saw with some disappointment that she had already read most of these botany texts. She could not recall any reference to a petal with sharp and rounded edges. Ling had only seen a small portion of the plant. Flowers also had a stem, anther, ovule, and much more. People tended to fixate on the most visible and beautiful portion of the plant, forgetting about the essential anatomy, mostly hidden away.
“It might be. I gathered every book even remotely related to botany.” Miss James put her finger to her mouth, and whispered, “even the manuscripts from the forbidden section.”
“Sister Winters will not miss them.” Ling parroted Emma’s assurance from the day before.
Miss James smiled. “I figured you had have already read the common texts, so those are organized on the right side. The rare ones are to the left. Most of them are personal notebooks of gardeners and potion makers. A very interesting place to start, but most tedious, as they are not organized like books.”
“And the middle stacks?” Ling couldn’t control the excitement of her question.
Miss James smirked. “The middle two are written in other languages. Some we may understand and others we may not. By luck, if you find an illustration in there, we can ask one of the nuns to translate the pages.”
Ling stared at the knowledge collected on the table. There was a lot of work ahead of them.
“Do not worry, Ling. We can do it together. In fact, you should consider asking Emma to join us.” Miss James picked a book from the top of the middle pile. She gestured to a page with ancient symbols. “Is there any chance you know what this means?”
“I'll ask my un—” she began to say out of habit. A knot formed in her stomach. “I can inquire with the language teacher at lunch.”
Her teacher didn’t object and continued to organize her lessons for the day. Ling started copying the primordial signs into her notebook. This arcane language had been appearing unnaturally frequent. As she mimicked the narrow strokes, a low-pitched noise bellowed. Ling paused, holding the pen midair, and skimmed the edges of the room. It sounded like a monster was coming up from the floorboards. She gritted her teeth and started again. With every line, noises vibrated from deep inside of her. Verses crept out from her shadowy parts. Her teacher didn’t notice.
“You should be present in your first class.” Miss James scribbled on a piece of paper. The bells chimed downstairs, calling Ling away to scripture class.
“This is for Sister March. Tell her you were helping with sprouting seeds,” her teacher said, handing her the paper. Ling gave a small smile. This was a lie, but the wrath of Sister March was much worse than a sin against God. Miss James knew this as well as she.
“May I borrow this?” Ling squeezed the spine of the disturbing book. A mildew smell seeped from the pages.
Miss James pursed her lips. “Better to keep it here. I do not want to get you in trouble again.” She winked. Ling still had to return the copy of Camilla without her mother checking her bag. “However, you can come back any time to read it and go through the other texts. I will add a note about working on a special project. Call it categorization of the Lord’s plants.”
When she returned to the classroom, Sister March crossed her arms even after Ling produced the note. The nun read it with a tight lip.
“Better late than never….” Her eyebrows slanted deep into the center of her face.
Ling curtsied before sitting down, asking for grace from Sister March. Ling glued her attention to the wood pattern on the floor. At her desk, she pulled out the King James Bible from a lower compartment. Complying with classroom rituals deflected the wrath of the nuns.
Sister March cleared her throat, disdain bleeding from her glare. “Miss Shaw has a tolerable excuse for her tardiness. Let’s return our attention to Leviticus 26:29. Recite.” She held up a hand and upon bringing it down to her hip, the class started the passage:
And ye shall eat the flesh of your sons, and the flesh of your daughters shall ye eat.
“Class, can you tell me why this is so?” Sister March bellowed at the five rows of students.
Ling touched the three lines on the page. Eat the flesh. The holy words melted in front of her eyes. Your sons. A discomfort gripped her stomach. Your daughters. She rubbed her sweaty palms under the desk. Shall ye eat. The skin around her eyes burned.
When no one responded, the nun said: “Ling, you are in the apropos position to answer this question.” She glared with a stern expression.
Ling disagreed. She was in the worst position to speak. Sister March was putting her front and center to prove a point.
“This should not be a trick question.” The nun tapped her fingers on a desk.
Ling’s hands clammed up. The verse referred to punishments for disobeying the Sanctuary of the Lord. It had been taught to her again and again. The right explanation seared into her throat, designed to confirm that God controlled all her decisions.
But this time, the corners of her mouth lifted. Sister March’s scoffing remarks pushed Ling over the edge. The underlying message was supposed to be that locals deserved their tortured fates. Ghosts had arrived to show the savages how to reach the holy lands. If this was the case, then how had the emperors of eighty-three dynasties received their mandate from heaven to rule?
She answered: “The verse means vampires exist.”
Collectively, the classroom gasped.
Emma shot Ling a nervous look. Her confusion turned to a smile. “Ling is hilarious.” She laughed, goading the entire class to follow. She shot her friend a look, wiping her hand over her forehead, valiantly trying to defuse the situation.
But Sister March stormed to the middle row and lifted Ling by her ear. Ling hollered as the Sister jerked her into the hallway.
“I thought better of you. What did I tell you about reading the devil’s stories?” Sister March said as her eyes turned dark. With a shooing motion, Sister March wished Ling away. “Off to the Headmaster’s office.”
Sister March glared at her through the classroom door as it closed, whispering, “Are you not the regular family of criminals?”
Ling seethed on the way to the office. Sister March’s comment shouldn’t have influenced her emotions so much. She was mad at herself for feeling a sting from the comment. What if she simply hid in the second-floor storage room for the rest of the day? She had the permission slip from Miss James. The idea was enticing. Somehow, Sister March’s punishment would ferment with more time. Could she blame her distress on Dabak’s arrest? Would the headmaster have any sympathy for her? Did he believe in vampires?
She did not know if it would be better if he did, or if he did not.
Twenty-Six
The headmaster pressed his chin into the phone receiver as his brows furrowed. Hair stuck out from his temples. A sheen of perspiration shone on his forehead. “Miss Shaw, just the pupil I needed to speak to.”
She tensed at the sound of her name, stepping into the evergreen-painted office. A carpet with two tigers spanned the center of the room, swirling golds with honey yellow. She smoothed the ends of her pigtails. Had Sister March phoned him while she walked down the hall? Headmaster Lee waved her inside, wiping a handkerchief across his nose.
“I’ll let her know. She’s in my office right now….” He paused, glancing at Ling. She bit her bottom lip, bracing herself for a speech. He might ask her to go to confession or write out a Bible verse a hundred times before tomorrow morning. Either punishment would take valuable time away from freeing her uncle.
“It is your aunt.”
Ling froze. Did she have news about Dabak?
“She says your mother needs to meet you at the stand. Be there by noon.”
“May I speak with her?” The last-minute request puzzled Ling.
Headmaster Lee didn’t respond. He placed the phone back into the holder. “I was not aware your aunt is Lord Langley’s niece.” He slid a pair of spectacles to the bridge of his nose and searched in a phone book. “Charles Langley is a great benefactor of this school. He provided the funds to expand the greenhouse. We should make a bigger fuss about the relationship.”
Ling craned her neck to read the names too. She searched for Eggers and Stewart, which didn’t seem to be on the first page. “Yes, he is my”— she drew a line from her to Aunt Marcella’s uncle— “great-uncle.”
“Well, he’s a relation, to say the least.” He paid no mind to his glasses, which were sliding down his sweaty nose. “Your fortunes are clearly on the rise. He’s an asset in the antiquities trade.”
Good fortunes hadn’t flowed in with Dabak’s marriage yet. Things were in fact going quite poorly for Aunt Marcella and now Dabak.
“Did she tell you the reason for my mother’s request?” Ahma had never disturbed Ling’s education. A strict boundary existed between home and school, one that would be broken today.
Headmaster Lee stiffened his lip. “She did not provide details. But I have a piece of advice for you. Close the shop on the first of July. Stay home, or better yet stay with your aunt on the island.”
Ling lifted her chin. July first was in two days.
“The protestors have planned an event on the pier,” the Headmaster said, his voice glum. He tapped a pen on his papers. “I am concerned for your safety, especially with your uncle away.”
Enlai had mentioned the celebration. She hadn’t given it a second thought until now. The local event was garnering attention. To Dabak, a large gathering was mostly an opportunity to sell more teas.
A soft knock drew their attention. It was the receptionist, bringing a note to the headmaster. She walked by Ling, smelling of roses.
At the desk, he raised his eyebrows. He glanced at the secretary in the red lipstick, at the note, and at Ling again. “You are quite popular today. The Police Chief has also phoned for you.”
Ling jumped up. “He did?” Embarrassed by her rashness, she took a seat again and composed herself. “Apologies. It’s been a long few days since…”
“Yes, of course. He asked you to call him back. It must be about Dr. Shaw.” He extended the note over the top of his papers. Ling pinched the small square of paper between her fingers, her hand shaking a bit. “This is his personal phone number.”
Sweat beaded on her hairline. She felt the hot glare of the two other people. Ling was a well-behaved student. Yet, the last few days had inspired a wildness from her soul. This part of her would outlive its welcome soon.
“Why were you here in the first place? The religion class has not ended,” he said. Ling saw the secretary open her mouth to reply. Did she mean to give her away?
Ling hastened to speak up first. “To thank you…um, for your call to the police outpost. Mother would not be able to visit Dr. Shaw if you had not put in a word.” She smiled, hoping the reason was enough to leave.
