Chapter 2 Chapter two

My new home smells pleasantly of new plastic and new carpet.It was a two-bedroom detached trailer home with a concrete patio in the back.I was allowed to choose the wallpaper for my room — bouquets of pink roses on a white background, tied with blue ribbons.We never lived in a pie trailer, we rented in Houston before we moved to Wellcome. Like the Bud trailer, Mom's Boyfriend Fly is also new.His name Flip comes from his habit of constantly flipping channels, which didn't matter at first, but then it tended to drive me nuts.When Flygt was at home, it was impossible to watch each program for more than five minutes.

I've never been sure why Mom asked him to live with us, he didn't seem better or different than her other boyfriends.Feili is like a friendly big dog, good-looking and lazy, with a little beer belly, hair all over his body, and an easy-going smile. Mom had to support him from day one with her salary as a receptionist at the title insurance company.Flygt, however, conveniently couldn't find work.He had no objection to work, but a strong reluctance to get up and look for it.The common contradictory view of "red neck". (Annotation: redneck, refers to the poor and uneducated southern white workers with red necks.)

But I love Fly because he puts a smile on my mother's face.Those voices that have not been heard for a long time are very precious in my heart. How I wish I could catch a laugh, put it in a glass jar, and treasure it forever. I went into the trailer and saw Flyck slumped on the couch with a can of beer while Mom was in the kitchen putting the can in the cupboard. "Hey Lipper," he greeted casually. "Hey, Flygt." I went into the kitchenette to help.Ceiling fluorescent lights shone on her glass-smooth blond hair.My mother has good features, fair skin, enigmatic green eyes and soft lips.The only clue that reveals her extreme stubbornness is the simple and neat line of her jaw, which presents a V shape, just like the prow of an ancient sailing ship.

"Did you give Mr. Xia the check, Lipper?" "Here." I reached for bags of flour, sugar, and cornmeal and piled them into the pantry. "He's a jerk, Mom. He calls me a stowaway." She turned sharply to face me, her eyes blazing, and a delicate blush appeared on her face. "That bastard," she said aloud. "I can't believe it—Fly, did you hear what Lipper said?" "No." "He called my daughter a stowaway." "Who?" "Chalouis, the camp manager. Flygt, move your ass and argue with him. Now! Tell him if there's another time—"

"Well, Honey, that word doesn't mean anything," Flygt protested. "Everyone is talking about it, they have no malicious intentions." "How dare you speak for him!" Mom reached out and hugged me, wrapping her arms around my back and shoulders to protect me.I was amazed that she would have such a strong reaction (it wasn't the first time the term was applied to me, after all, and it certainly won't be the last). "I'm fine, Mom," I said. "Anybody who uses that word, just shows he's ignorant garbage," she said succinctly. "You know, there's nothing wrong with being Mexican." She was more distraught than I was.

I have always been keenly aware that I am different from my mother.When we go out together, we always attract curious attention.My mother was angelically fair, and I was dark-haired and distinctly Latina.I learned to live with it.Being half Mexican is no different than being pure Mexican, which means I get called a stowaway sometimes, even though I was born American and never set foot in the Gran Valle. "Flyk," Mom insisted. "Are you going to argue with him?" "He doesn't have to go." I regretted bringing it up to her, I couldn't imagine Flygt getting himself into trouble for anything he thought was insignificant.

"Honey," Flygt objected. "I don't see the point of falling out with the landlord on day one!" "It's imperative that you stand up for my daughter more like a man." Mom glared at him angrily. "Damn it, I'll go by myself." A long, tortured sigh came from the couch, but there was no movement other than a thumb clicking on the remote. I hurriedly stopped. "Mom, don't go. Flygt is right, that doesn't mean anything." Every cell in my body knows that it is best for my mother not to get close to Chalouis. "I'll be right back," she said nonchalantly, searching for her purse.

"Please, Mom." I tried my best to dissuade her from going. "It's time for dinner and I'm hungry, really hungry. Shall we go out and eat? Let's try the buffet in town." Every adult I know, including my mom, loves a buffet. Mom stopped and looked at me, the expression on her face softening. "You hate buffet food." "I'm getting used to it," I insisted. "I started to like to eat on a divided plate." Seeing her start to smile, I chased after the victory, "Maybe we are lucky, today is the special treatment day for seniors, and you can enjoy a half-price discount."

"Ghost spirit," she said aloud, bursting out laughing. "Today's big move really made me feel like an old man." She strode into the living room and turned off the TV, standing in front of the disappearing screen. "Get up, Fly." "I won't see 'WrestleMania,'" he protested, sitting up, his unkempt head flattened from the pillow. "You're not going to finish the show anyway," Mom said. "Get up, or I'll hide the remote for a month." Flygt let out a sigh and stood up. Good day, I met Handy's sister, Hannah, who was a year younger than me but almost a head taller.She can't be called beautiful, but the Kang family's unique slender athlete figure makes her very attractive.Their family is very active, loves competition, and loves to mess around, which is the complete opposite of me.As the only girl, Hannah learned early on that she must never bow her head, no matter how impossible things may seem, she must be the first in any challenge she faces.

I appreciate this kind of fearless spirit, although I can't do it.But Hannah told me it was a curse to be adventurous in a place where there was no risk. Hannah is crazy about her brother, she loves to talk about him, and I love to listen.According to Hannah, Handy graduated high school last year and was dating a senior girl named Diaman, but Handy had attracted a bunch of women since she was twelve. Currently, he spends his days building and repairing barbed-wire fences on nearby ranches and paying the down payment on his mom's pickup truck.Before he injured his knee ligaments, he was a football quarterback, running the 40-yard dash in 4.5 seconds.He could imitate almost every bird song you could name in Texas, whether it was a chickadee or a wild turkey.And he loves Hanna and their two younger brothers, Rui Ke and Kaiwen very much.

I think Hannah is the luckiest girl in the world to be Handy's sister.Although her family is poor, I envy her very much.I never liked being an only child.Whenever I'm invited to a friend's house for dinner, I feel like a visitor in a different place, struggling to understand how things should be done and what certain words mean.I especially like big, noisy families.My mom and I lived a quiet life, and despite my mom's assurances that we were a family, our home didn't feel complete. I've always longed for more family.Everyone else I know knows their grandparents, or uncles, or second cousins, or third cousins, or distant relatives whom they see only a few times a year, but I never know my relatives. Dad, like me, is an only child, his parents are dead, and other relatives are scattered all over the United States.Their family lived in Liper County, northeast of Houston, which is where my name comes from, and they had the Mexican surname Jimenezes back then.In the 18th century, Mexico opened up that area to Europeans who came to colonize. Later, they changed to the surname "Jones" (Jones), who would not reveal their origin. Some of the entire family withered, and some sold their land and moved to other places. So my relatives are only my mother's family.But every time I asked, her face turned cold and quiet, or she snapped at me to go out and play.Once I saw her cry afterwards, sitting on the bed with her shoulders arched, as if carrying an invisible weight.I never asked about her family after that.But I know her original surname is Chu, but I doubt whether the Chu family knows my existence. But what I want to know most is, what did my mother do that was so serious that her family didn't want it? Despite my fears, Hannah insisted on taking me to meet Miss Marvin and her bulldog.Even though I protested that I was almost scared to death by them. "You'd better be friends with them," Hannah reminded. "Another day they will run through the gate again, if they know you, you don't have to be afraid." "You mean they only eat strangers?" I thought my timidity was justified, but Hannah rolled her eyes. "You should be less timid, Lipper." "Do you know what happens to people bitten by dogs?" I asked angrily. "have no idea." "Blood loss, nerve damage, getting tetanus, rabies, bacterial infection, amputation..." "Like and hate!" Hannah exclaimed in admiration. As we walked down the main driveway of the trailer camp, our sneakers kicked up a cloud of gravel and dust.The sun grilled our hatless heads, burning the parting lines of our hair.As we approached the Cons, I saw Handy cleaning his old blue truck. His bare back and shoulders shone like newly cast copper.He was wearing denim shorts, flip-flops, and aviator shades over his face.When he smiled, his teeth were dazzlingly white in his bronzed face.A certain pleasure crept into my stomach. "Hey!" He was rinsing the foam off the van, deliberately pressing his thumb on the end of the hose to increase the water pressure. "Where are you going?" Hannah spoke for both of us. "I want Lipper to befriend Miss Marvin's bulldog, but she'll be scared." "I'm not afraid." It wasn't quite true, but I didn't want Handy to think I was a coward. "You just said a lot about what happens if a dog bites you," Hannah pointed out. "That doesn't mean I'm afraid," I said defensively. "That just means I have common sense." Handy gave his sister a warning look. "Hannah, you can't force someone to do anything until they're ready. Let Lipper overcome her mental block on her own time." "I want to go," I insisted, casting aside all judgment for the sake of my ego. Handy went to turn off the water, pulled a white T-shirt from a nearby umbrella-shaped drying rack, and slipped it over his sturdy torso. "I'll accompany you guys. Miss Marwen asked me to help her move some paintings to the gallery." "Is she an artist?" I asked. "Oh, yes," Hannah said. "Miss Marvin paints lupines, and she has a beautiful picture, isn't it, Handy?" "Yes." He stepped forward and gently tugged at one of his sister's braids. I looked at Handy and felt the same nameless longing as last time.I wanted to get closer to him, to study the smell of his skin beneath the bleached cotton. Handy's voice seemed to change as he spoke to me. "How's your knee, Lipper? Does it still hurt?" I shook my head quietly, because he was actually interested in me, and my heart trembled like plucked guitar strings. He reached out to me, hesitantly, and gently took the brown-framed eyes off my upturned face.As usual, the lenses were dirty and full of fingerprints. "Do you have poor eyesight without glasses?" he asked. I shrugged and smiled at the blurry handsome face looking down at me. Handy wiped the lens clean with the hem of his coat, looked critically at it, and returned it to me. "Come on, you two, I'll accompany you to Miss Marwen's house and see how she treats Lipper. It should be interesting." "Will she be fierce?" I walked on his right, Hannah on his left. "If she likes you, she'll be nice to you," he said. "Is she very old?" I thought of the grumpy old lady in our Houston neighborhood who would chase me with a cane whenever I set foot in her well-tended front yard.I don't particularly like old people.The few old people I know are either eccentric and dull or like to talk about physical ailments in detail. The question made Handy laugh. "I'm not sure. She's been fifty-nine since I was born." Walking down the road for about 400 meters, we are about to reach Miss Marwen’s trailer. I can recognize which house it is even without a companion to guide me. The barking of the two vicious dogs locked in the backyard fence makes people feel far just know.Immediately I felt sick, goosebumps and cold sweat appeared on my skin, my heart was beating so fast that I could even feel my heart beating on my scabbed knees. I stopped, and Handy stopped too, smiling suspiciously. "Lipper, what the hell did you have to mess with those dogs?" "They smell fear," I say, focusing on the corner of the yard inside the fence, seeing the pit bulls jumping up and down, spit-splashing. "You said you weren't afraid of dogs," Hannah said. "I'm not afraid of normal dogs, but I keep a distance from a vicious pit bull with rabies." Handy laughed, wrapping a warm hand around the nape of my neck.Give it a soothing pinch. "Let's go see Miss Marvin, you'll like her." He took off his sunglasses, looked down at me with smiling blue eyes. "I promise." The trailer smelled of lupine flower water and smoke, and the smell of the oven.Every space in the house seems to be filled with arts and crafts, such as hand-painted birdhouses, acrylic tissue paper box covers, Christmas decorations, crochet placemats, and unframed lupine oil in different sizes and shapes. Sitting in the middle of this mess was a fat, short lady, her hair moussed into a perfect honeycomb bun.Her hair was dyed a shade of red I had never seen in nature, and her skin was wrinkled and changed with vivid expressions.Miss Marvin may be very old, but she is not at all demented. "Conhandy," she called in a voice hoarse from too many cigarettes. "I thought you were coming to move my paintings two days ago." "Yes, ma'am," he said deferentially. "Well, boy, what excuse do you have?" "I am too busy." "Handy, if you're going to break the contract, you should come up with a more creative reason." Her attention turned to Hannah and me. "Hanna, who is the girl with you?" "Miss Marvin, she's Jolipe, and she and Mama just moved into the new trailer over the pen." "Just you and your mother?" Miss Marvin's lips pursed as if she had just eaten a handful of fried pickles. "No, ma'am. Mom's boyfriend also lives with us." Stimulated by Miss Marvin's interrogation, I further explained the matter of Fei Li and his love to switch channels, and that my mother is a widow and works as a receptionist in a property rights company. And I'm here because after being chased and scared by dogs, I want to make peace with them. "Those scoundrels," said Miss Marwen, not in the least angry. "Creating trouble most of the time, but I need their company." "Is it bad to have cats?" I asked. Miss Marwen shook her head decisively. "I gave up keeping cats a long time ago. Cats are close to the environment, and dogs are close to people." Miss Marvin took the three of us into the kitchen and gave us red velvet cake.Handy told me, mouth full of cakes, that Miss Marwen was the best cook in Wycombe.According to Handy, her cakes and pies won the tricolor ribbon at the county fair every year until the organizers begged her not to enter again and to give someone else the chance to win. I have never eaten such a delicious red velvet cake. I later learned that it is made of cheese and cocoa, and enough red food coloring to make the cake shine like a red light. The whole cake is also covered with an inch thick layer Creamy cheese icing. We gobbled it up, nearly scraping the yellow plate with a fork, until every crumb was wiped dry.My tonsils are still reeling from the overly sweet icing when Miss Marvin asks me to reach for the dog biscuit jar that sits under the counter. "Take two dollars to the dog," she ordered. "Hand them through the fence. They know you as soon as you feed them." I swallowed hard, and the cake in my stomach suddenly turned into bricks.Seeing my expression, Handy whispered, "You don't have to go." I don't want to face pit bulls, but if I get a few minutes of Handy's company, even a herd of longhorns on a rampage, I would.Reaching into the jar, I grasped two bone-shaped biscuits, their surfaces immediately sticky from my wet palms.Hannah stayed in the trailer to help Miss Marvin put more crafts into a small box. Handy led me to the fence, the sound of angry barking filling the air.Dogs grinned and growled, their ears flattened against bullet-shaped heads.The males are just black and white and the females are light tan.I don't understand why they think it's worth getting out of the shade of the trailer and running to scare me. "Will the fence keep them in?" I followed Handy, almost tripping him.The dog is full of dormant energy, its muscles tense, as if it is about to jump over the gate. "Of course," Handy said with reassuring firmness. "I built this with my own hands." I watched the impatient dog warily. "What's their name? Crazy and Killer?" He shook his head. "Cup cakes and sponge cakes." I opened my mouth wide. "you're lying." A smile flickered across his lips. "it is true." If Miss Marvin named sweets in the hope of making them look cute, it clearly failed.They seemed to treat me like a string of sausages, and rushed towards me drooling. Handy spoke to them in grave tones, telling them to be sensible, to be quiet, to be good.He ordered them to sit, too—with only partial success: Cupcake's bottom reluctantly sat down on the ground, and Spongecake's butt hung defiantly in the air.They opened their mouths, panting, and stared at us with four black button-like eyes. "Now," Handy instructed. "Give the black one a cookie with your palms open and palms up. Don't look him in the eye or make any sudden movements." I switch cookies to my left hand. "Are you left-handed?" he asked with interest. "No. But if this hand is bitten off, I still have a better hand for writing." There was a low laugh. "You won't get bitten, go ahead." I keep my eyes on the flea collar around Cupcake's neck, and start to head towards the wire mesh that separates us, ready to hand out the dog biscuits.I saw it tense up in anticipation when it saw the treat in my hand.Unfortunately, whether the attraction is the cookie or my hand is debatable.At the last moment I lost all courage and withdrew my hand. Cupcake let out a whimper in his throat, and Spongecake let out a short bark.I glanced at Handy in shame, thinking he was going to make fun of me.He said nothing, however, and a strong arm went around my shoulder, finding mine with his free hand.He took my hand gently as if holding a hummingbird, and together we passed the biscuit to the waiting dog, who swallowed it in one gulp, wagging his straight tail from side to side.Its tongue left some drool on my upturned palm, and I wiped it on my shorts.Handy's hand was still around my shoulder as I passed the biscuit to the sponge. "Good girl." Handy praised me in a low voice, and then gently squeezed my shoulder before letting go.Even with his hand slightly removed, the weight of that arm still seemed to rest on my shoulders.The sides of the body were still warm.My heartbeat shifted, and every breath I inhaled provoked a sweet pain in my lungs. "I'm still terrified of them." I watched the two monsters return to the trailer, slumped heavily in the shadows. Handy was still facing me, with one hand on the top of the fence, letting it share his weight.He looked at me as if attracted by something in my face. "It's good to be afraid sometimes," he said gently. "That keeps you going and helps you get things done." The silence between us was different from any I've ever known. It was strong, warm, and full of anticipation. "What are you afraid of?" I asked boldly. A trace of surprise flashed in his eyes, as if he was asked this kind of question for the first time.For a moment, I thought he wasn't going to answer, but he let out a slow breath, looked away from me, and looked across the trailer camp. "Afraid to stay here," he finally said. "Stay here forever, and I won't be able to adapt anywhere else." "What kind of place do you want to fit in?" I half-whispered. His expression changed as quickly as quicksilver, and there was a mockery in his eyes. "Anywhere I don't want to go, the more I want to break in."