Red Thread Sisters (9781101591857) Read Online Free PDF

through the common wardrobe, she sized up Wen’s small body. Wen always closed her eyes and wished for the sparkly Tinker Bell dress or the Hello Kitty shirt. But no, Wen got the boyish clothes, like the Thomas the Tank Engine top or the Batman jersey or the too-big jeans. Auntie Mu Hong bunched up the jeans and pinned them at Wen’s waist with a rusty clip. If all the clothes were gone, Wen got one of the faded ruffled nightgowns that hung down to her knees like a sack until seven days passed and another Day of Clean Clothes arrived.
    Now, cautiously, Wen took the new T-shirt her mother was offering her. She stroked the soft rosy-peach fabric, the color of a sunset. She had never seen such a beautiful shirt.
    Wen gave her mother a small, quick smile. 
    When Wen’s mother smiled back, her eyes sparkled especially blue. All at once, Wen realized that her mother was trying very hard to make her happy.
    Wen waited for her mother to go away. Then she pulled a purple tank top over her head and zipped up a pair of jeans. Stretching as tall as she could in front of the mirror on her door, Wen posed in different angles to see how the shirt fell against her body and how her jeans fit, nice and snug along her legs, then flared toward her ankles.
    Wen took off the tank top, folded it, and put it back. She changed out of her jeans, too, trying on leggings and a tunic with hearts sewn around the neckline. Wen looked at herself in the mirror. She didn’t recognize this girl wearing brand-new clothes that belonged only to her.
    Wen slid her hands up and down the flowing fabric and traced the hearts around her neck. Suddenly, in front of the mirror, she pictured Shu Ling beside her, in the torn nightgown.
    Not this one again!
she could hear Shu Ling moan.
What did you get,
mei mei
?
    Slowly, Wen took off her new outfit. She folded the tunic and leggings, returned them to the drawer, and put on her old denim skirt and sweater again.
    When her mother returned, she eyed Wen’s wrinkled skirt and stained sweater, then asked her a question. She rattled the bureau and opened the closet, as if she were hunting for the T-shirts and jeans and leggings. Wen opened the top drawer where she’d arranged all the new clothes in neat piles.
    â€œ
Buhao?
Bad?”
Little lines formed along Wen’s mother’s forehead.
    Wen gazed longingly at the clothes but said nothing. All she could see was Shu Ling in the ragged nightgown.
    Her mother tried another card. “
Ni shen ti hao ma?
What’s the matter, Wen?”
    Wen saw her mother’s eyes pleading for an answer.
    How could she explain that she liked the clothes so much, her very own clothes? How could she explain that Shu Ling should have them too, and if Shu Ling couldn’t have them, neither could she? Wen sat on her bed, making little pleats in her skirt.
    â€œWen,
hao ba
? OK?” Wen’s mother brushed the thick bangs from Wen’s eyes.
    Wen nodded. She buried her chin in her sweater and pulled away.
    Later, in the afternoon, Wen’s mother led her to the bathtub and turned on the faucet. In amazement, Wen saw steaming water gush into the tub.
    â€œ
Xi zao.
Bath.” Beside her, her mother picked up a bar of soap and pretended to rub herself. Wen shrank back. She had never taken a bath. The gleaming white basin in front of her was too long and too shiny, and the water was too deep.
    Her mother squirted some blue liquid from a bottle and bubbles burst on the water’s surface. Kicking off her shoe, her mother put her foot in the tub. The water stopped below her knee.
    â€œ
Hao ba
. It’s OK.” Her mother pulled her foot out of the water. “
Hao ba
for Wen.”
    Her mother gave Wen the bar of soap, then flipped through her cards. “
Yi hui jian,”
she read. “See you in a little while.” She closed the door behind her.
    Wen dipped her bare foot in the hot water. As she pulled out her foot, now dripping, she