Chapter

27

DAD FOLLOWS ME TO THE hallway and picks up the phone, eyes staring at me as he speaks into it.

“Hello, Principal Klein. It’s Steven Xiao, Lily’s father. How can I help you?”

I shut the door to my bedroom. I don’t want to hear Dad’s reaction as Principal Klein tells him about what I’ve done.

But is it really that wrong? All I did was start a petition.

Although I did it after my family told me not to do anything about this ESL thing.

Behind the door, I hear muffled sounds as Dad speaks to Principal Klein. Then it’s silent for a few seconds.

The door creaks open, and Dad pokes his head in. “Lily, please come out here. We need to talk.” His voice is stern and still.

“Yes, Dad,” I nervously reply, and shuffle behind him to the living room.

“What’s going on, lăo gōng?” Mom asks, looking worried. Ah-ma’s practically a ghost by how pale her face has become.

Dad gestures at me to take the armchair, then sits next to Mom on the loveseat. “Lily, tell us what you’ve been up to. Please start at the very beginning, from that night after you and Vivian got your progress grades in the mail.”

I stare at the seams of the pillow in my arms. “Last week, I went to Principal Klein to ask her if she’d give Vivian some extra tutoring for English.”

“You talked to your principal? After your father said not to?” Ah-ma says breathlessly.

“Wait, Ma. There’s more.” Dad looks at me angrily.

I take a deep breath. “After she said no, I started a petition with some kids at school to ask her to reconsider. We want her to go to the school board to ask for the funding the school needs to provide ESL classes.”

“A petition? What is that?” Ah-ma asks.

“It’s when you ask people to sign a paper that has a statement of change on it,” Dad responds, eyes still fixated on me. “You use those signatures as leverage when you approach the authority who can change the rules.”

Ah-ma looks confused. “I don’t understand. What’s the point of doing that?”

“It’s to challenge an existing policy or law,” Dad explains.

Ah-ma stares at me with horror on her face. “Oh, Lily. You didn’t.”

“But organizing petitions is something that people do here. It’s not that big of a deal,” I say.

“I’d say it was a big deal, Lily. Over three hundred signatures? That’s a lot of people in Pacific Park,” Dad says. “How did you even think of this idea?”

Mom’s eyebrows rise up. “Three hundred? Wow,” she whispers. Ah-ma shoots her a look, and Mom’s eyes quickly shift away.

“I learned about it in social studies, as a part of the women’s suffrage movement project. We asked kids at school and parents in the carline to sign.”

“The carline? After school?” Dad asks, a puzzled expression on his face.

Oops.

“Lily, you lied to us about your after-school project,” he says sternly.

“This was my after-school project.” I avoid his eyes and pick at the threads of the pillow.

There’s more than guilt in my stomach, though. I feel a bit of . . . pride.

I know I shouldn’t have done all this behind my family’s back. That was wrong. But what I’ve done is a pretty big deal, even if Principal Klein has completely sabotaged the whole thing.

Over three hundred signatures is something.

I’m sure Pandora’s Box would agree. So would Eddie Vedder.

I jut my chin. “Dad, putting together petitions is a part of American history. It’s a way to show authorities that a lot of people care about something and want change. It’s not supposed to get you in trouble or anything if you start it or sign it.”

“Starting petitions is something that Taiwanese people don’t do, though,” Ah-ma says with a sharp tone. “We mustn’t cause any trouble. We’re lucky to be here, and we should be grateful. The least we can do is keep our heads down and accept what we have. Son, is Lily in trouble now for doing this?”

“No, she’s not being punished,” Dad assures her. “But, Lily,” he says, turning back toward me, “I asked you not to do anything. I told you I’d handle it.”

A flash of anger burns through me. “By sending Vivian to Evergreen?”

Dad’s eyes open wide with surprise. “How did you know about that?”

“Vivian overheard her parents talking about it.”

Dad shrugs. “Changing schools is a perfectly reasonable solution. Don’t you want Vivian to get the help she needs?”

“I do, but I don’t want her to switch schools.” My mind whirls for something, anything, that could keep Vivian at Pacific Park. “Wait, I know. What if Auntie and Uncle use the Camp Rock Out money for English tutoring instead? Then Vivian and I can keep going to Pacific Park Middle together.”

Not going to Camp Rock Out would be awful. But not as awful as not going to school with my best friend anymore.

Dad shakes his head. “The money they’ll save from not sending Vivian to camp isn’t enough to pay for a whole year of private tutoring. We did the math. . . . It’s more economical to send Vivian to Evergreen than pay for the same amount of private tutoring she’ll need if she stayed at Pacific Park. There’s a good chance that Vivian will get the financial aid I helped Auntie and Uncle apply for.”

“So that’s it?” I plead. “What if the school board decides to fund ESL classes at Pacific Park Middle? Could she stay?”

“That’d change the calculations for sure. But that’s not going to happen. Principal Klein made it clear in her phone call that her policy at Pacific Park Middle is to support an English-only approach to language learning.”

An impossible idea flashes into my head.

“What if I went to talk to the school board?”

Dad’s mouth drops open, and Mom’s eyes widen to the size of two rice bowls.

Ah-ma sits straight up in her chair. “Absolutely not, Lily. I forbid it.”

“Why not, Ah-ma? It’s not fair that Principal Klein is the one deciding whether or not the board hears our case. It’s not fair that the only way Vivian gets what she needs is to change schools and make our family pay a ton of money,” I say firmly. “And what about other kids with families where private school isn’t an option? We should fight for what everyone deserves, even if it means getting up in front of the school board and making a case for what’s right.”

“Lily, that is not how we do things in the Xiao family,” Dad insists, his back straighter than usual.

“But I don’t want to do things the way the Xiao family does. I want to do things my way!” I insist.

“Lily!”

The sharpness of Ah-ma’s tone makes me jump. She glares at me, hands clasped in front of her. “Stop this. This is not how you speak to your family.”

There it is again, what I should or shouldn’t do. I’m so tired of it.

“Why not? What could possibly go wrong if we asked?” I shout.

“You could disappear forever, like your grandfather did!”

Ah-ma’s words make me recoil in my chair, like a huge wave has washed over me and pinned me against its back.

My grandfather? What is Ah-ma talking about?

Mom gasps, her hands covering her mouth, and Dad stares at Ah-ma with big, worried eyes. Mine ping-pong between my parents before landing back on Ah-ma, who’s still staring at me with anger all over her face.

Or is it fear?

I dare myself to ask. “What do you mean, Ah-ma?”

“I will tell you why you must keep your head down. I will tell you why you mustn’t get up in front of that school board.”

“Ma, please, don’t. Don’t put yourself through it again,” Dad pleads.

She glares at him. “I must. If it will make Lily understand, I will tell her.” Ah-ma looks into my eyes. “I can’t protect her anymore.”

Tingles start to travel up and down my spine. I have no idea what’s about to come.

Ah-ma’s gaze turns distant, and she clasps her hands in front of her tightly. “My husband was working for the Taiwanese army as a translator when your dad was born. Life in Taiwan at that time was very difficult. When Japan was forced to give Taiwan up after World War II, the Kuomintang government from China fled to the island. They had lost the civil war to the Chinese Communists and came to Taiwan to regroup.

“At first, we welcomed the KMT and the change they promised to bring. But they were so focused on winning back China and battling the Communists that the government saved everything they could for the war effort. As things got worse and worse for the Taiwanese, with food shortages and no jobs, people started to speak up. People like Ah-gong, your grandfather. My husband.”

Ah-ma’s face softens, and tears fill her dark and brooding eyes. “Your dad wasn’t even a year old when the KMT soldiers came to take Ah-gong away. I begged for his release at the police station, but they wouldn’t listen. Later, they told us that he’d attended a rally to fight for more rights for the Taiwanese. Because he was speaking out against the government, they said it meant he was a Communist, that he was an enemy.”

I suck in my breath. “Ah-ma. I had no idea.”

“He never came back.” Ah-ma’s gaze is as sharp as an eagle’s. “Can you see now why you cannot do these things, Lily? Can you see what can happen if you speak up?”

I swallow down the lump in my throat. My head whirls with a mix of sadness and shame for what happened, and for making Ah-ma relive it all over again. I glance at my dad, who never got to know his own father.

“Now you know, Lily, why we are so careful,” Dad says softly. He pulls at the collar of his polo shirt and rubs the back of his neck. “Not only was my father taken away forty years ago, but when I was growing up, the government censored newspaper articles, denied us the right to assemble, even forbade us to speak in Taiwanese. The only music we got to listen to was patriotic music. We didn’t have the freedom to listen to whatever we wanted, like you get to do.”

I can’t imagine being forced to listen to “The Star-Spangled Banner” all day. I mean, it’s a powerful song, but still.

It’s no Pearl Jam.

“Even now, people are still being arrested for pushing for democracy in Taiwan,” Dad continues. “Martial law was lifted in Taiwan only five years ago. Freedom of speech isn’t a right there . . . yet. We have to be careful about what we say.”

The pieces of the puzzle fall into place. This is why my family is always so afraid to speak up. From Dad not wanting to get his boss annoyed to my parents insisting on keeping my bedroom walls clean for the landlord to Ah-ma not fighting against that horrible man at the grocery store . . . they’re avoiding any kind of conflict.

Because to them, conflict has big consequences.

I’m afraid to meet Ah-ma’s gaze, so I stare at my hands. “I had no idea this had happened.”

“That’s one of the reasons we left,” Mom chimes in. “We wanted to have a child in a place where you have opportunities and freedoms that your dad and I didn’t.”

I suddenly feel both grateful and lucky that we are Americans.

But something still doesn’t make any sense.

“I’m glad that we live here now, where we have more freedom,” I say. “But like you said, things are different here. We’re supposed to speak up when we think something isn’t right.”

“No, Lily,” Ah-ma interrupts. “Let it go. If you care for us, you will stop this fight of yours.”

“But, Ah-ma, you want me to help Vivian, right? This is the way I’ve chosen to help. She really needs it,” I protest. “We have to do something!”

Ah-ma gets up from her chair and stands tall in front of me. “Your ah-gong spoke up, and he’s gone. I will not have the same thing happen to my granddaughter. I don’t care where we are right now or why you’re doing it. It’s not worth it.”

“Ma . . .” Dad starts to say.

“That’s enough. The conversation is over.” Her hands come down to her sides and curl into fists, like she’s a soldier. Then she turns and heads into her bedroom, her flowery blouse whipping behind her dramatically.

Dad looks as surprised as I am. But he recovers quickly and turns his attention back to me.

“Lily, I don’t want to argue about this anymore. At the end of the day, you did what we told you not to do, and in a very public, dangerous way. You lied to us. This is not what we taught you. This is not how we expect you to behave. And now that you know where we’re coming from, you should understand why.”

There are those words again. “Expect.” “Should.”

It’s always about what they expect, what they think I should do.

When am I finally going to get to do what I want, what I think is right? Did they tell me this horrible story about Ah-gong, about life in Taipei under martial law, to get me to stop going down the path I’ve chosen and take theirs instead?

A rage starts to burn in my chest, and my heart pounds. It gets stronger and stronger, like the opening riffs of a grunge rock song. But not of a deep, soulful ballad.

It’s the heavy, distorted chords of a loud, angry, scream-into-the-mic grunge song.

What’s in my heart explodes through my voice.

“No, Dad. No, Mom!” I yell. “I’m so sick of always doing what you want me to do. I do what you expect all the time.” I jab at the air with my pointer finger. “I get the grades, I get the awards. But I don’t do the fun stuff that normal kids get to do after school because I’m expected to come home to study. And I don’t complain, I just do it.” Tears spring to my eyes, and I wipe them clumsily with the back of my hand.

“When is it enough?” I sniff, my anger melting into shame. “When am I going to be allowed to be me? All you want from me is perfect grades, for me to do what you want. But can’t you see that I want to be more than that?”

Mom and Dad stare at me, too stunned to speak.

Not that I expect them to say anything, anyway.

I spin around and storm into my room, slamming the door behind me. I frantically look for my Pearl Jam CD, and when I finally find it, I jam it in my stereo and turn the volume up high.

I hit Play. The frenzied, nervous energy of the opening guitar riff of “Once” starts, and Eddie’s angry lyrics hit my ears right away. His deep wailing lingers before it builds into a loud, harsh screech. The music pounding the walls of my bedroom perfectly captures the rage I’m feeling.

I finally did it. I channeled Eddie and his intense, growling energy and spoke up. I yelled, I shouted, I said things that came from the heart and with a ton of real feeling. My robot self is officially gone, replaced by an emotional being who says—no, screams—what she feels inside.

It’s what I’ve been wanting to do all this time, ever since I discovered Camp Rock Out.

So why does it feel so horrible?