More laughter from the other boys.
Bingwen’s lungs were screaming for air. He kicked and pounded his fists on Zihao’s shoulders, but the bigger boy seemed not to notice.
“What is going on over here?” Ms. Yí said.
Zihao released Bingwen, who fell to the floor, coughing and gasping and inhaling deeply.
Ms. Yí stood over them, holding her bamboo discipline stick. “Out!” she said, waving the stick. “All of you! Out!”
The children protested. It was Bingwen. He started it. He called us over here. He attacked Zihao.
Bingwen grabbed Meilin’s hand, turned to Hopper, and said, “Meet us in the fields.” Then he pushed through the crowd toward the exit, pulling Meilin along behind him.
“He was showing a spook vid,” said one of the children.
“He was trying to scare us,” said another.
“He pushed Zihao out of his chair.”
“He started a fight.”
Bingwen was through the front door, Meilin right at his heels. It was late in the afternoon, and the air outside was cool and damp, a light wind blowing up from the valley.
“Where are we going?” asked Meilin.
“Home,” said Bingwen. He led her to the village staircase built into the side of the hill, and they began descending toward the rice fields below. Every village in the valley was built onto a hillside, the valley floor being too fertile and valuable to be used for anything other than rice. Meilin’s village was three kilometers to the west. If Bingwen hurried, he might be able to escort her home and then cut south to his own village before it got too dark.
“Why are we running?” said Meilin.
“Because once Zihao gets outside,” said Bingwen, “he’ll come finish what he started.”
“So I’m to be your human shield?”
Bingwen laughed, despite himself. “You’re quite the little strategist.”
“I’m not little. I’m taller than you.”
“We’re both little,” said Bingwen. “I’m just littler. And I dragged you along because you’re my cousin and I’d rather not see you get your head pounded in. You stood up to Zihao. He’ll come for you, too.”
“I can take care of myself, thank you.”
He stopped and let go of her hand. “You want to go home alone?”
Meilin seemed ready to argue, but then her expression softened and she looked at the ground. “No.”
Bingwen took her hand again, and they continued down the stairs.
Meilin was quiet a moment. “I shouldn’t have cried back there. That was childish.”
“It wasn’t childish. Adults cry all the time. They just hide it better.”
“I’m scared, Bingwen.”
Her words surprised him. Meilin never admitted to weakness. If anything she went out of her way to prove how smart and strong and unafraid she was, always pointing out to Bingwen and Hopper and others how they were doing a math problem wrong or solving a thought puzzle incorrectly. And yet here she was, on the verge of tears, showing a fragility that Bingwen had never seen before.
For a moment he considered lying to her, telling her the whole vid had been a prank. That’s what an adult would do, after all: laugh and shrug and dismiss the whole thing as fantasy. Children couldn’t stomach the truth, adults believed. Children had to be protected from the harsh realities of the world.
But what good would that do Meilin? This wasn’t a prank. It wasn’t a game. That thing on screen was real and alive and dangerous.
“I’m scared too,” said Bingwen.
She nodded, hurrying to keep pace beside him. “Do you think it’s coming to Earth?”
“We shouldn’t think of it as an ‘it,’” said Bingwen. “There’s probably more than one. And yes, it’s coming to Earth. The interference is only getting worse, which suggests their ship is headed this way. Plus it looked intelligent. It must be intelligent. It built an interstellar spacecraft. Humans haven’t done that.”
They took the last turn in the staircase and reached the valley floor. Hopper was waiting for them, clothes soaked and covered in mud.
“Took you long enough,” said Hopper.
“How did you get down before us?” asked Meilin. “And why are you so filthy?”
“Irrigation tube,” said Hopper. He patted the side of his bad leg. “Steps take too long.”
Meilin made a face. “People throw their dishwater in the tubes.”
Hopper shrugged. “It was that or get beat to a pulp. And it rained yesterday, so the tubes aren’t dirty. Much.”
“That’s disgusting,” said Meilin.
“Agreed,” said Hopper. “But it’s easier to clean clothes than to clean wounds.” He ran and jumped into the nearest rice paddy, which was filled waist-deep with water. He submerged himself, thrashed around a moment, getting most of the mud off, then shook his upper body and crawled back out of the paddy, dripping wet. “See? Fresh as a flower.”
“I’m going to throw up,” said Meilin.