My lesson goes well, and Mrs. Nguyen is satisfied with my progress. Playing piano is more of a relief. It’s easier to focus on the notes, to give my mind a momentary break from the chaos that is currently in my head. On my way home, I stop by our family’s usual bubble tea café to pick up Tina’s favorite order and one for Denny as well. On the bus, another girl sits down next to me, scrolling through videos on her phone. I look out the window instead as we wait at the intersection for the light to change.

There’s a boy standing there, waiting for the cars to pass. The walk sign turns on. He steps forward, and a truck flies out of the alley, striking him. His body is spun into the wheels, disappearing underneath. I gasp, unable to help myself, as my hand flies to my mouth to mask the sound. Only the girl beside me notices, giving me an odd look, as she scoots a little farther away from me. My hand finds the bracelet again, clutching it so hard I can feel the shape of the beads dig into my palm. I remind myself of Shen’s words.

They’re tethered to our world because something horrific happened to them. I should feel sad for them instead of afraid.

Suddenly, the air in the bus feels too stuffy, making it hard to breathe. I gather my things and pull the cord, getting off two stops early. When I mutter “Excuse me” to the others in the aisle as I make my way to the door, I feel many eyes on me, even though I’m probably imagining it.

I gulp down the cool autumn air, trying to calm myself so my parents won’t notice anything is wrong when I walk through the door. I force myself to smile and hug Denny when he runs over to see me. Baba can’t help but nag a little about extra sugar when he notices the drinks, but he’s appeased when I tell him that Denny’s order is fruit.

I go up the stairs to give Tina her drink, keeping in mind that I should act normal. She’s sitting cross-legged on her floor on her yoga mat, music blasting again from her speakers. She stares up at the now-familiar screensaver moving on her laptop screen. A swirling mass of symbols that spiral inward and outward, the inside that pulses like an eye. The twisting and turning of the shape makes my skin crawl, even though there’s nothing about it that should be unsettling.

“What?” Her voice is a low rumble, like she senses me lurking at her door.

“I got you a drink.” I place the drink with the bag next to her. “Strawberry milk with lychee jelly.”

She reaches out and turns off the music, turning to face me. Her face stretches into a smile as she glances at the label.

“Less ice and double jelly, my favorite! Thanks!” She jabs the top with a red straw and takes a long sip.

“My friends told me about this new place in Richmond they want to take me to,” she says. “They make their own pearls in rainbow colors, and each one is a different flavor.”

“That sounds good,” I say, happy that she sounds like Tina again. “Want to try mine?”

“Sure,” she says, reaching up. “What is it?”

“Taro and grass jelly.”

She takes a sip and makes a face. “It’s too…taro-y. Not sweet enough.” That’s just like Tina. She’s always had a sweet tooth.

I laugh. “It’s supposed to be. They use fresh taro.”

She bumps into the laptop when she sits back down, and the screensaver dissolves into a video of five girls dancing.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“It’s the song we’re practicing for our first show.” She reaches over and turns it back on. Five girls are dressed in alternating red and pink hanfu, dancing around a lady who sits in the middle strumming a zither. It’s a lively tune, their figures graceful as they create beautiful shapes around the stage, the camera viewing them from all angles.

“It’s so pretty,” I say.

“Reminds me a bit of figure skating,” Tina says. Skating is one of those “Canadian” things she was allowed to do when she was little, because Ma was friends with the instructor. But once Ma and the instructor had a falling-out, Tina was told to quit, and she was inconsolable. Her love of movement and dancing has always been there, even when she was six years old.

“I want to be part of something…something that’s for me, nobody else,” she says softly as she watches the video. “My teacher says I’ve got what it takes, but I need to put my whole heart and soul into it. I can catch up soon.”

Now that we’re older, and we know more of what other kids our age are able to do…it’s easier to want. To want different than what our parents expect of us.

“Don’t you feel like there’s not enough time in a day?” She rubs her forehead. “That we’re all running behind, trying to catch up?”

The girls in colorful outfits continue to flit across the stage, ribbons in their hair flying behind them. A pained expression ripples across Tina’s face, something like longing.

“Mrs. Tsai says we only need to believe in ourselves. There’s power in belief,” she says as if she can speak it into being.

“Can she give you more hours in a day? I don’t think so.” I chuckle.

“Ha-ha,” Tina says dryly, rolling her eyes. “You don’t get it. She knows people. She has connections. They can literally grant wishes. They can make dreams come true.”

“What do you mean, wishes?” I say, a quiet alarm bell going off in my head.

“It’s a place you can go, a place called the Temple of Fortunate Tidings. If you’re lucky enough to be admitted and you’re a True Believer… then the god there will grant you your heart’s desire,” she says, suddenly fervent, her eyes shining with purpose.

“Let’s say this place is real, and it grants you your heart’s desire,” I tell her, playing along, even if the idea already makes me uneasy. “What would you wish for?”

Tina looks down at her hands in her lap, like she’s seriously contemplating my question. A sound starts up. Someone humming. For a moment, I wonder if Tina turned on the video again, but she hasn’t moved at all. Then I realize the sound is coming from her.

My sister, who can’t carry a tune to save her life. Humming a melody that I recognize as the chant that has been playing in her room for the past week.

Then she looks up at me, mouth stretching wide into a serene smile.

“It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not.” She smirks, and I get that sensation at the back of my neck again, the feeling that someone else is looking at me through her eyes, that my sister has changed. “You’ll get to meet the Great Teacher soon.” She puts her hands together then in front of her face and closes her eyes, bowing her head reverently. The humming returns, and my bracelet pulses against my skin.

“I…I’m going to go to bed,” I tell her, not wanting to talk to her when she’s acting like this. I don’t understand half of what she’s talking about. All this about “True Believers” and “Great Teachers.” But I spent half of the afternoon discussing talismans and the energy of the living, which seems like nonsense too.

She doesn’t respond. Not when I get up to my feet, or when I slowly shut the door behind me.

Denny complains about the music again, but when Baba reminds her to keep it down after Denny’s bedtime, Tina just promises that she’ll remember. She starts taking the later bus home by herself, reassuring Ma that she will stay with her friends Melody and Gina, both of whom have been “approved” by my parents because their parents are “respectable” since they are now socializing together at the Formosa Friendship Association.

My Rachmaninoff piece is getting off track again, my mind as tangled as the chords. I can’t seem to bring myself to focus, the notes blurring on the page every time I try to work on it. My stomach pains are getting worse, my appetite slowly diminishing. Delia checks in with me each night, and I give her vague updates like All is well, for now… I should demand answers, about the spirits or the wardens and why the elders haven’t gotten back to me yet, but those messages are typed and then deleted when Shen apologizes for the delay and asks me to be patient.

By the time I make it almost through another week, I’m a bundle of nerves and resentment. Why is it that I’m the only person who seems to notice that Tina is changing? I brood over this as I pull my textbooks for my afternoon’s classes out from my locker.

“Hi.” A face appears beside the door, making me jump. “Whoa, sorry!” It’s Shen, holding up his hands once he realizes that he startled me.

“No, sorry, it’s me,” I sigh, pulling my books closer to my chest. “I’m…” I don’t even know how to finish the sentence. Exhausted? Worried?

“Yeah, I get it,” he says. He looks different dressed in his Westview uniform. Less prickly, but still unapproachable. We might have passed each other in these halls hundreds of times over the past few months and not known the other existed. Not known that he has the other life, that ability to send back spirits to where they should be.

The pause stretches on between us for too long, then he seems to catch on that I’m waiting for him to talk. “I…Delia asked me to check in on you. To make sure everything is okay.”

“It’s…fine,” I tell him, and then cringe a little at how that came out. I hate that a part of me is disappointed the reason he’s talking to me is because of Delia, but then I feel silly for thinking that, because I was the one who chased him down, forced him to tell me what he knows.

“Listen…” he says, dragging his hand through his hair, looking sheepish. “I don’t have much experience helping people. It’s always been my family. You came at a time when I wasn’t prepared, and it was easier to tell you to go away instead of dealing with it. I’m sorry about that.”

He sounds…sincere, genuine, and it changes my impression of him ever so slightly for the better.

“I appreciate it,” I say, because I don’t know what else to say. The awkwardness settles around us again as I shut the door to my locker and spin the lock. “I guess…I’ll see you around?”

“Sure,” he says, then holds up his phone, taps it. “Anytime, okay? Delia and the elders will take turns skinning me if anything happens to you.” He gives me a wry grin before heading down the hall. I stare after him for a moment longer, surprised he’s actually being nice.

Until I feel eyes on me. I whirl around, half expecting to see no one again, but there are three girls standing there by the lockers. Two of the girls look away quickly, but I meet my sister’s eyes. She seems perturbed by something, unhappy. I give her a little wave, and she tilts her head in acknowledgment before turning away to talk with her friends.