Blue Gold Read online

  “How many people have seen this?” she asked in a choked whisper.

  “That depends,” replied Megan. “How many people are on Friendjam?”

  It took Fiona a moment to understand. Then, squeezing the phone’s screen image down with her thumb and finger, she saw that the photo had been posted to a Friendjam page. The “share picture with all friends” button flashed at the bottom of the page, like a tiny blinking death star.

  “Who sent this?!” she blurted, her mind flooding with questions. Where did it come from? She’d deleted the photo off Ryan’s phone. He must have made a copy! She knew he was mad at her, but posting the boob shot was beyond nasty. She looked up the walk to Lacey’s house and saw her friends in the front window, talking and partying. Had they all seen her naked? Stupid, useless tears burned in her eyes. I’m such an idiot for trusting him! she thought, biting her lower lip to try to make it stop quivering.

  “Don’t worry about it, Fee,” Brit told her, seeing her about to cry. “I mean, everybody was doing it last year.”

  “I wasn’t,” Megan pointed out with a sharp glance at Brit. “Were you?”

  “No,” admitted Brit. “But lots of people were.”

  “You mean sluts,” said Fiona.

  “No!” insisted Brit, a second too late and a tad too emphatically.

  Lacey came running down the walk from the house, having spotted Fiona through the window. She looked gorgeous in a turquoise dress and high-heeled sandals, but the sophisticated effect was spoiled by her snorts of hysterical laughter. She grabbed hold of Fiona’s arm.

  “Holy crap! Can you believe that douche?”

  “Does everybody know?” asked Fiona, suspecting the answer, but still hoping.

  On cue, Rick Yee appeared on the front stoop from inside the house.

  “Hey, Fiona,” he hollered, “give us a show!”

  Just in case Fiona missed his meaning, he hauled up his own shirt to reveal his bare chest. Fiona wished she could disappear.

  “C’mon, Fee,” said Lacey, low so only Fiona could hear. There was a sort of imploring desperation in her eyes. “You gotta laugh it off.”

  For a moment, Fiona tried to reframe. So what if all of her friends, male and female, had now seen her naked? It wasn’t the end of the world. She could see Lacey’s point—if she laughed it off, everybody else would, too. In a way, it was funny. But then her heart sank. What if her parents found out? She wished she could be the type of girl who didn’t care, but she wasn’t—and she did.

  “I have to go,” she told Lacey.

  She fled back down the sidewalk. Lacey charged after her, teetering on her high heels.

  “Fiona, wait!”

  Fiona turned back, tears streaming down her face.

  “I’ve never been so humiliated in my life!” she cried. “Why would he do that to me?”

  “Because Ryan’s a jerk! If people see you’re upset, he wins,” Lacey pleaded with her. “C’mon back. It’s a party!”

  Fiona shook her head. “Tell everybody I had to go because I’m sick, okay?”

  “Like that’s going to fool anybody.”

  “Then tell them what you want,” Fiona said.

  She hurried away, faintly hoping that if she could just get to her room and pull the covers over her head, when she woke up in the morning Friendjam would never have been invented, and she and Ryan never would have met.

  FIONA REACHED HOME just as her mother was leaving to meet friends for dinner.

  “Why are you home so early?” she asked, alarmed by Fiona’s tear-stained face. “What happened?”

  “Nothing,” replied Fiona, sniffling.

  “Then why are you so upset?” She put down her bag and took off her jacket. Fiona knew that look on her face, ready to take on the world to defend her little girl. This is a job for Supermom! she used to joke when Fiona was little and came home crying over something mean another kid had said at school. Only this time there was nothing Super­mom could do to help.

  “I’m okay. Just go,” pleaded Fiona. But the more Fiona insisted that she wanted to be by herself, the more determined her mom was to stay.

  “I wouldn’t have a good time, knowing you’re here crying in your pillow,” she said.

  Finally, Fiona snapped, yelling at her, “Just leave me alone!”

  Her mother looked really hurt, which made Fiona feel all the more wretched.

  “What happened to my beautiful little girl?” her mom asked.

  “I’m sorry. Just go,” she said miserably. “I’ll be fine.”

  Her mother gave her a lingering look of concern. Shaking her head, she went out the door without evening saying goodbye. Fiona retreated to her room and flopped onto the bed, hot tears soaking the pillow, just as her mom had predicted. As she lay there replaying the night over and over in her mind, humiliation turned to shame at taking the picture in the first place. Shame turned to surreal disbelief that this could actually be happening to her. And, finally, surreal disbelief turned mercifully into sleep.

  FIONA WOKE UP EARLY on Saturday morning to sunshine streaming through her window. Drifting up from sleep, she felt cozy and safe—until the memory of the night before began to seep in. Opening her eyes, she saw that she was still lying on top of the covers, wearing her party outfit, but there was a blanket over her. Her mom must have come in to check on her.

  Fiona sat up. Everything was less frightening in the daylight. Morning has more wisdom than night. She remembered the line from a Russian fairy tale her mother used to read to her. Right, she thought, you’ve had your cry. Time to get over yourself. She got up, showered, washed her hair. By the time she came out of the bathroom, her mom was up, reading the paper over coffee at the kitchen table.

  “Good morning,” said her mother, using a tone that invited meaningful discussion.

  “Hi,” replied Fiona, pouring cereal into a bowl. “Sorry about last night.”

  “Do you want to discuss it?”

  “No.”

  Hell no. Fiona had talked herself into believing that eventually her friends would forget about the boob shot. But if her parents ever found out, they’d make a huge deal about sexting and the dangers of the Internet. Maybe even try to take her laptop away. Definitely there’d be no new smartphone.

  “Okay,” nodded her mom reluctantly. “But you know I’m always here if you want to talk, right?”

  “I know. Thanks.”

  “Want to hang out today? I’m going to the farmers’ market.”

  “Can’t. I’m working at eleven. Then I’m going to Dad’s tonight,” Fiona reminded her.

  “Right,” she replied with a tight smile. She turned back to her newspaper, and asked a little too casually, “How’s he handling the heat, by the way?”

  “What heat?”

  “Over their operations in the DRC.”

  “The what?”

  “Fiona,” she said, the frustration clear in her voice, “I thought you were following this. You know, the girl in the video, Sylvie. About the fighting over coltan.”

  “What?”

  “Coltan. It’s used in electronics. Millions of people in the Congo have died because of it.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, and headed toward her room with her bowl of cereal.

  “Where are you going? Can’t we at least have breakfast together?”

  Not if you’re going to rant at me, thought Fiona. But she said, “I downloaded this show I want to watch.”

  Mom pursed her lips, her I’m-so-disappointed-in-you look. “On your laptop.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Does that not strike you as a little ironic in light of this conversation?”

  “I just want to watch my show.”

  “So go.”

  Gawd, thought Fiona.

  “I hate it when you roll your eyes at me like that,” said her mother.

  “You use a laptop, Mom. Everybody does.”

  “The point is we should be
able to buy laptops and cell phones that are manufactured without causing endless human suffering.”

  “Omigod, Mom! This is exactly why nobody likes you!”

  It came out a lot harsher than Fiona intended. Her mom looked wounded for a brief moment, then her jaw tightened.

  “I just want you to be a thinking person, Fiona.”

  “Okay. I think I’ll go to my room.”

  “Fine. Be a smart-ass,” she replied, burying her face in the newspaper.

  Fiona carried her cereal bowl to her room, seething. It felt like her mother was constantly disappointed with her for not being out there saving the world. But she had enough trouble dealing with her own problems. If only her mother knew.

  Wait—rewind, realized Fiona. On second thought, thank God she doesn’t know!

  LAIPING HELD OFF UNTIL THURSDAY before going back to Miss Jang’s office to inquire about her overtime pay.

  “You must be patient,” said Miss Jang. “These things take time.”

  “Please, can you find out how long it will be until I get the money?” asked Laiping.

  Miss Jang smiled. “Yes, of course. I will try.”

  But Laiping heard nothing. On Saturday she received another paycheck—her first month’s wages had still not been paid.

  “Where is my money?” Laiping asked Miss Jang before her shift on Sunday.

  “Do you know how many employees the company has?” replied Miss Jang, no longer smiling. “Hundreds of thousands.”

  “But you said you marked my form ‘urgent’.”

  Miss Jang pursed her lips—and suddenly Laiping understood. No such notation was ever made. Miss Jang had lied to her.

  “I want to fill out another form,” said Laiping.

  “You’re not allowed,” replied Miss Jang.

  “It’s my money,” implored Laiping. “My family needs it now.”

  “You think you’re so special? You must wait your turn like everyone else.”

  On Monday morning after work, Laiping called her auntie, who fetched Mama to the phone. Baba was back home, but the doctors said he had to stay quiet in bed.

  “He’s on the list for surgery,” her mother told her. “When will you send the money?”

  Laiping was beginning to feel that all Mama ever thought about was the money. “Soon,” she promised, wishing she could talk to Baba and tell him how tired and lonely she was. But she could already hear Mama scolding—Don’t upset your poor sick father with such nonsense!—and kept her feelings to herself.

  Laiping didn’t sleep well following her Sunday night shift. The dorm room was too hot and humid. The air was close with the curtain drawn across her bunk, but the sun was too bright if she left the curtain open. When she did nod off, she dreamed that she was soldering capacitors at her work station in her pajamas and that Mr. Wu was yelling at her for forgetting to wear gloves and a mask. She woke up late in the afternoon, groggy and disoriented, to the sound of Big Sister Choilai calling her name.

  “Laiping! Wake up! Your cousin is here to see you!”

  Laiping wondered, Why didn’t Min just phone me? She checked her mobile, which she kept beside her pillow while she slept, and discovered that the battery had died. Doubly anxious now between her dream and Min’s unexpected arrival, Laiping maneuvered quickly in her bunk to pull off her pajamas and put on jeans and a top. She found Min waiting for her in the common room and took in her worried expression.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Laiping with alarm.

  “It’s your father,” she said, tears budding in her eyes. Laiping went light-headed. She gripped Min’s arm, fearing the worst. Min saw the shock on Laiping’s face and quickly added, “He’s alive! But Uncle ignored the doctors’ advice. He went out to plow, and he collapsed. Here,” said Min, handing Laiping her own mobile. “Call my mother. She will tell you.”

  Laiping’s fingers were trembling so much that Min had to take the mobile back and punch the speed dial for her.

  “It was another heart attack, a bad one this time,” Auntie said when she came on the line. “He’s been taken to the district hospital in Heyuan. He must have the surgery soon.”

  “I’m coming home!” Laiping said into the phone, choking on tears.

  Hearing this, Min leaned into other ear, warning, “If you leave without permission, they will never give you your pay!”

  “There’s nothing you can do here, Laiping,” Auntie was saying at the same time. “The best thing you can do for your baba is stay there and work.”

  Min took the phone and spoke to her mother for a moment before hanging up.

  “She says she’ll call if there’s any more news,” Min reported to Laiping.

  Laiping’s whole body was trembling. Min put her arms around her waist and held her tight, her head coming up to Laiping’s chin.

  “What if he dies? What if I never see him again?” sobbed Laiping.

  “Don’t say that!” Min told her. “Don’t even think that! What you need is to eat something, and stay strong!” Min sounded just like their grandmother, which gave Laiping a little comfort.

  LAIPING WENT WITH MIN to the cafeteria and picked at her vegetables and rice, eating little. After dinner she went to the factory for her shift, turning a single thought over in her mind all night, so that by morning it was sharp and clear and hard. Baba will live if I get the money I’m owed to pay for the surgery. In the morning when she finished work, she went down the wide staircase with the other workers. But on the main floor, instead of going outside she veered off to the corridor where the managers’ offices were located. At Miss Lau’s door, she knocked. Miss Lau opened the door, and—recognizing Laiping this time—frowned.

  “Yes, what is it?”

  “My father had a second heart attack yesterday,” Laiping told her. “Please, Miss Lau, I need my money—today.”

  “I’m sorry about your father. Is he…?”

  “He’s in the hospital.”

  Miss Lau nodded as she took this in. “Come. Sit down,” she said, standing aside to let Laiping enter.

  Laiping took the same chair she’d sat in the last time she was in Miss Lau’s office, when she was unfairly punished for Bohai’s poor workmanship. Miss Lau seated herself behind the large desk and found Laiping’s file in a tall stack. She opened it and read through it while Laiping waited. Laiping could see her G-32 form at the top of the papers inside the file. When she finished reading, Miss Lau folded her hands together and leaned forward.

  “We have reviewed your request. The decision has been made that we cannot make an exception for you.”

  Laiping’s mouth fell open in shock. Her first thought was that she hadn’t heard correctly—there had to be a mistake. After all this time waiting!

  “That can’t be right!” she exclaimed.

  Miss Lau showed no emotion. “You told Miss Jang that you were homesick,” she stated.

  “No, I didn’t,” Laiping replied in confusion.

  “She was very clear about it,” said Miss Lau, picking up the G-32 form to show her. Laiping could see that someone—Miss Jang?—had written notes on it. “She says you told her you miss your mother and father.” Miss Lau put the form back into Laiping’s file. “If we give you this money, what is to prevent you from quitting and going home?”

  “I won’t! I promise!”

  But Miss Lau looked doubtful.

  “Many migrant workers are homesick when they first arrive. You need time to fit in and feel that you belong here. Mr. Chen understands this. That’s why he made this rule.”

  “But—”

  “There will be no further discussion! Mr. Chen is paying you much more than other factories pay, in other parts of China. If you’re a good worker, you will have future paychecks to send home.”

  Laiping wanted to tell her that by the time she received her next paycheck, her father might be dead. But she could see the look on Miss Lau’s face—the same look that Mr. Wu got if a worker questioned him. The ability to obey instr
uctions is the best way of judging a worker.

  Miss Lau smiled her tight smile, dismissing Laiping. “I’m happy to hear that your father is recovering.”

  INSTEAD OF GOING BACK to the dorm to sleep, Laiping went directly to the Internet café where she’d last seen Kai, even though the chances of finding him there on a Tuesday morning were slim.

  “Do you know a boy named Kai?” Laiping asked one of the servers behind the counter.

  “I know twenty boys named Kai!” she replied.

  Laiping’s palms were moist with anxiety—Kai now seemed like her only hope, even though she had only the vaguest idea of how he might help her get her money. But she had run out of places to turn for help.

  An idea sprang to her mind. She remembered the first place she met Kai and hurried to the employment office building. When she got there, she saw that the line of job-seekers was even longer than the day she and Fen, who was then Yiyin, were hired. Hundreds of people were waiting for their chance to go inside the building and apply for work. It’s true what the bosses say, she thought. There would always be somebody else willing to take their place. So maybe she shouldn’t have been thinking about making trouble. But how could she not, when her father’s life was at stake?

  Laiping walked down the line, scanning the crowd. There were girls in baggy jeans and T-shirts who looked like they had just come out from the countryside, and others in short skirts and fashionable tops, bent over mobile phones—like the girls downtown Fen said were office workers—but there was no sign of Kai. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw a security guard near the building’s entrance eyeing her suspiciously. Realizing she couldn’t remain there loitering, she rounded the corner of the building and went to the end of the line, as though she was one of the new applicants. She waited for fifteen minutes, watching for Kai to appear and listening to the nervous chatter of the girls and guys in line around her, sounding so much like she and Fen had on their first day—frightened but excited, worried about whether the employment office would deem them company material. Was it only eight weeks ago? It felt like a lifetime had gone by since then.