Red Skies (The Tales of the Scavenger's Daughters) (2 page)

Chapter One

M
arigold—or Mari, as her family in Wuxi called her—kept her head down to keep the rain out of her eyes and the world from seeing her misery. She was exhausted. She’d finally finished dragging her stubborn camel to his shelter and was now running late in getting home again, but still something held her back, and she knew just what it was—or
who
it was
.
Without even meaning to or realizing it, she’d gone a block or so out of her way and now, heaving a sigh of sadness, she pulled the hood of her raincoat further down on her face, then leaned back against the building to watch. Like a moth to a flame, she was drawn to the girl across the street, captivated by her plight. It was a red skies evening, the pollution of Beijing mixing with the light falling rain to create a dramatic scarlet backdrop as the young girl called out, her high-pitched but sweet voice imploring the passing pedestrians for a coin or two. “
Gei wo qian; gei wo qian
.”

The sound of one lone coin clinking against the tin cup she shook echoed through the wind and drizzle, carrying itself to Mari along with scraps of memories from long ago. She’d never forget when she herself stood begging with her voice and pleading with her eyes for someone to notice her—to have mercy and give her just something so she’d be treated fairly at the end of the long night. Even though rescued from that life, reminders like the girl on the corner brought it all flooding back.

The girl looked about ten or eleven, and she walked a few paces to the corner, then turned back and returned to her post, shaking her can louder. At first glance, she wasn’t much to look at. Standing no more than four feet tall, she appeared delicate but determined. Her long hair looked dirty and unkempt, her clothes unmatched and ragged—the faded flowered pants short enough to show bony ankles above tattered shoes. The thin material bore no protection from the cold dampness, and already she looked soaked through. If Mari’s eyes could be believed, the girl shivered slightly.

Mari looked closer, and through the long, stringy hair and smudges of dirt on her tiny heart-shaped face, she could see evidence of a hidden beauty—unseen to most because they chose only to see a nuisance, if they chose to see her at all. Mari knew that the majority of people pretended a street child was invisible. They refused to see or hear their needs, instead walking on by to their warm houses full of plentiful food while the child scrounged for a scrap here or there, working to be allowed any sort of shelter from the elements.

Mari wanted to go to her, but what would she do? Give her the small bit of yuan she’d made that day and then tell her husband she’d made nothing? Business was slow because of the weather, but would he believe she hadn’t had a single customer? Not likely.

The girl stopped calling out, and her tiny shoulders heaved in a silent sigh. She suddenly looked so tired and desperate, prompting a passing woman to pause and dig in her purse, then shake her head. Mari couldn’t hear her words, but she knew what they probably were—s
orry, I don’t have any change.
She’d heard that herself at least half a million times.

The woman moved on, and the girl began her chant again, her voice weaker, her expression from afar even more desperate.

It wasn’t the first time Mari had seen the girl. Perhaps it was the familiar look of hopelessness that had drawn her back for the second day in a row, or possibly even that she felt as if she were looking at herself as she had been so many years ago, before her baba rescued her. Mari knew what it felt like to be passed from gang to gang. It was terrifying, and at that age, you either learned to swiftly swipe a wallet or purse, or you were pushed down to the lowest level of begging and posted on a street for eighteen or more hours a day. And that wasn’t the only thing the girl would have to do if she remained on the streets. Eventually she’d be seen as just eye-catching enough to make a buck from lecherous old men. But those were thoughts Mari didn’t like to dwell on.

Mari’s blood boiled when a trio of teen boys walked by the girl and laughed at her, then one knocked the cup from her hands. It hit the sidewalk. The girl scrambled for it and the coin, but they were too quick for her. She grabbed the cup, but the biggest boy snatched the rolling coin and held it high over her head, then pushed it into his pocket before leaving her with only the sound of his sarcastic laugh lingering behind him.

That was the teaser coin, and Mari knew if the girl didn’t make it up, her boss would be furious. Psychology wasn’t just for the upper class—even thugs knew that if a person who had an ounce of compassion heard the clink of one coin, they’d be more likely to add their own contribution. People didn’t realize how important that teaser coin was.

Stay away, Mari. Don’t get involved
, she tried to tell herself. Her life was already complicated enough. She couldn’t add any more stress, or she’d fold. Simple as that. Her brain argued with her heart, but the stronger muscle won, and her feet obeyed. Before she knew it, she was crossing the street and stood before the girl.

“
Ni hao
,” she said softly.

The deepest—and probably the saddest—brown eyes she’d ever seen looked up and connected with hers, and Mari felt the earth move. This child was her years ago, down to the young eyes full of premature wisdom a girl should not yet have. The skinny snip of a girl also could’ve been any one of her sisters—other girls taken in by her baba and mama. Girls who, like her, found themselves alone in the world and were taken advantage of by depraved thugs.

The little girl backed up, immediately suspicious, as she held her cup to her chest. Mari slid out of her raincoat, then draped it around the bony shoulders and pulled it closed in front.

“You’re giving me your coat?” the girl asked, hope evident in her face.

“
Dui
,” Mari answered. “And I’ll replace the coin that bully took from you, too.” She dug in her pocket, and instead of a coin, she pulled out a five-yuan note. She tucked it into the cup, wishing it could be more. But she couldn’t go home empty-handed—even sedated, her husband would be angry if he thought she’d mishandled their take for the day.

“
Xie xie
,” the girl whispered, her eyes big as she eyed the bill.

Mari crouched down in front of her and touched her hand. “So tell me, which gang do you belong to?”

The girl froze, her eyes widening with fear at the mention of her boss. She’d never give them up—they’d scared her silent. Probably with threats of physical harm or even death.

“I know how it is,” Mari said. “I used to be just like you. I worked for a street gang, too. Do you know your name? Can you at least tell me that much?”

“An Ni,” the girl said, then looked up and down the street.

More than likely, she’d also been warned not to ever give her name, just in case she still had family looking for her, so Mari didn’t believe for a moment An Ni was her given name.

Mari held her hand out. “Well, I’m Mari. It’s nice to meet you, An Ni. Such a pretty name. Did you know you have the same name as a famous little girl in a book I once read? It was called Anne of Green Gables, an American story about a little girl who was an orphan.”

The girl hesitated, then appearing to struggle for the courage within herself, she reached out and clasped Mari’s hand. “She was an orphan?”

Mari nodded. The book had been a favorite in her household, one of the many stories told to them by the light of the gas lamp in the evenings they gathered as a family. A sweet memory—that was what her adopted parents had given her and what she wished for the girl standing before her. “She sure was, and my mama used to say she should’ve been called Annie because it suited her better than Anne.”

The girl mumbled so low Mari had to strain to hear her. “I like your clothes.”

“
Xie xie
. I dress like this because I take photos of foreigners on the Great Wall. They expect me to look exotic, even if it’s raining outside.” Mari smiled back at her, holding her hand. It was ice cold and trembling, and the girl was probably shocked that someone was speaking to her like she was a human being and not a piece of rubbish. That thought brought her father’s face to mind—he was just a simple scavenger but was the kindest human being she’d ever known, and Mari felt a rush of homesickness.
What would he do if he came across the girl?
Mari knew instantly exactly what he’d do, and she felt a flush of shame. For a second, Mari let her imagination wander and consider how she could bring An Ni into her life. At over thirty, since she hadn’t gotten pregnant before, it was unlikely she was ever going to give Bolin a child. Could the girl fit into their family somehow? Before the thought could grow legs, a man stepped out of the alley and stomped over to them.

“Who are you?” he barked out, then took a long drag on his brown cigarette.

Mari stood. She knew immediately from the looks of him that he wasn’t the big boss. More likely he was just the right-hand man—but he was still dangerous. His steely eyes glared at her from beneath his shaggy hair, unflinching against her accusing stare. Dressed in black pants and a shiny black jacket, he definitely looked the part of a street thug.

Mari wished she could reach up and slap the smirk from his pocked face. But she kept her cool. “Doesn’t matter who I am. I was just saying hello and giving the girl some money.”

He started at Mari’s feet and examined her all the way up to the tip of her head before releasing the cigarette smoke directly into her face, letting it waft around her face in a cloud of stench. He pulled at his jacket, shaking off the drops of rain in a gesture to make himself appear collected. “You wouldn’t be thinking of trying to take my property, would you? Because I got a lot invested in this girl here—my sister. And I was just about to take her home.”

An Ni looked terrified. She slipped out of Mari’s coat and handed it back, then stepped closer to the man, silently showing her loyalty. An Ni knew the ropes—that much was obvious. The fear on her face told Mari that she didn’t believe anyone could help her, and one wrong step would result in punishment so severe that most couldn’t fathom it. But what the girl didn’t know is that Mari knew about it all too well, and she wouldn’t be the one to cause her more pain.

Mari accepted her coat and quickly put it on. It was still warm from the small body that had worn it briefly. She looked at An Ni again, but the girl refused to meet her eyes.

“No, actually I was just lending her my coat, but since she’s done with it, I’ll move along. I’m sure you just forgot she was standing in the cold rain with no protection. I’m leaving.” She almost choked on the words, but she knew that if she challenged the bully, the girl would pay. Even the local police would do nothing. The gangs in Beijing ran everything, and if An Ni was to ever have a chance, she would have to be sneaked away—they’d never give her up easily.

In the world of street children, especially in Beijing where foreigners were prevalent, the little beggars were a commodity passed around by the gangs until they’d grown too old or hardened to turn heads and reap sympathy any longer. An Ni still had many good begging years left in her, but looking into her eyes was like staring into the soul of an older, much wiser person. It took all her willpower, but Mari took a step back.

The man took another long drag then flicked his cigarette at Mari’s feet. “I think you just made a very wise choice.”

Mari straightened as tall as she could and walked away, refusing to look back. But something told her that she and An Ni weren’t through crossing paths yet. Somewhere, someday, they’d meet again. And if her father had taught her anything, it was that her responsibility was to be kind to everyone, but especially those in despair. As she made her way home to her small apartment, Mari hoped she’d have another chance to prove that she had half the heart that one old scavenger possessed.

Chapter Two

A
n Ni huddled in the doorway of the produce shop, just out of the falling rain, her knees to her chin to keep her body warmer as she thought of the curly-haired woman. For a moment—just one shining second—she’d thought it was her chance to escape. But then
he’d
come back and caught them talking. Even though An Ni had brought in her share of money for the evening, her punishment for interacting with the woman had been watching the other kids fight over her share of steamed rice. Li Xi—the oldest boy in the group, nicknamed Little Dragon—had laughed at her, taken a deep drag on his cigarette, then blown smoke in her face. She didn’t cry. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He was always the appointed boss if Tianbing was away, and his mean streak never stopped, especially if he saw any weakness.

“Xiao Mei, can I have some blanket?” she whispered to the girl who lay curled behind her. An Ni’s feet ached after standing for so many hours, but more than that, her body begged to be warm again.

Xiao Mei moved closer, bringing the blanket over An Ni’s legs. Xiao Mei wasn’t her real name, but she hadn’t been with them long enough for Tianbing to decide what she’d be called, so like the other new girls before her, she was Xiao Mei until further instructions. An Ni didn’t even remember her real name any longer, but it didn’t matter. The lady had said An Ni was a pretty name—and now she’d decided she liked it.

She’d asked Tianbing where she really came from after the last new arrival had wailed for days about her mama and baba. Tianbing only snickered, showing his brown teeth, and then told her she’d been born under a rock, and if he hadn’t come along, she’d have grown into a slithering snake. An Ni knew he was lying. She also knew that she wouldn’t be a street child forever. She’d had a dream, and just before it had faded away with the morning light, she’d been told someone was coming for her—someone to free her. For a moment, she’d thought it was the pretty woman, but now she knew it had to be someone else. She shivered once, biting her lip to take her mind off the pain in her legs.

Li Xi was still bragging. “I climbed in that window and stuffed my jacket full of food before the night guard even turned around. Then I was out of there and off the train in seconds,” he said. “You should’ve seen me.”

Guo Ji, the younger boy that followed Li Xi like a puppy, high-fived him.

An Ni’s stomach growled and she wished for just one of the apples or dried noodle boxes that Li Xi had snatched and turned in. She hadn’t eaten anything but a partial corn on the cob since early that morning. She felt grateful for that, though it was just leftovers thrown down by a toddler holding on to his mama’s neck. An Ni had stared him down, almost willing him to drop the cob, and when he did, she’d jumped in fright, scared she might have some sort of secret powers. But when she tried it again on a girl who walked with street candy in her hands, it hadn’t worked. So blind luck it was, apparently.

Li Xi came around from another doorway and stood over An Ni and Xiao Mei, blocking out the light from the streetlamp. “Guess what I heard, Snake?”

An Ni didn’t answer him.

“Xiao Mei is being traded soon. Tianbing is negotiating a buyer for her, and she’ll soon be headed to colder climates.”

An Ni shivered again. This time it wasn’t from the dropping temperature. It was fear, plain and simple. An Ni didn’t want Xiao Mei to go. She knew from experience the girl would have to be broken in—taught the pecking order and the new gang’s brand of expected respect. She herself almost hadn’t survived her training period with Tianbing, and her ribs ached from the memory of what they’d gone through from the tips of his shiny black shoes.

Xiao Mei didn’t react to the news. An Ni turned her head so that they wouldn’t see the rogue tear that slid down her face. Not for herself, but for Xiao Mei. She felt the girl’s tiny arm slip around her and squeeze gently for support. Xiao Mei was still innocent and wouldn’t be able to save herself—that much was for sure.