The International Kissing Club (44 page)

Chapter 24
Mei

Mei sank onto the bed in her dorm room, reviewing her packing checklist and at the same time trying to think of one way in which this whole trip hadn’t been a total unmitigated disaster. Yeah, she couldn’t find one. Nothing about coming to China had turned out the way she’d planned.

Learning Mandarin—a failure; her greatest success was that now she could order at Pizza Hut.

Academic enhancement—a failure (see above); if not for Guiran’s help and infinite patience, she would have bombed all of her classes. As it was, her grades were so depressed and she was going to be so far behind when she got home, she would have to work doubly hard next semester and probably go to summer school if she had any hope of salvaging an acceptance to MIT.

Discovering a link to her birth parents—a complete and total failure. While she’d known this was a long shot to begin with, she’d still held out hope that she’d find something, anything, that could tell her who she was. She owed what little she had found to Guiran, and for that she could never thank him enough.

For a girl who’d always taken pride in her self-reliance, the trip had really knocked her ego down a peg or two.

A light knock on the door interrupted her descent into Piper-like self-pity.

“Guiran,” she said, and her tummy fluttered a little when she saw him standing there, his black eyes gleaming as he looked at her. She was going to miss the way he watched her, as if she was the only person who mattered to him.

“Are you all packed?” he asked, nodding to her suitcase, which was lying open on the unused bed in the room.

“Almost. Just the last minute things to add.”

“I figured you would be.” He chuckled. As always, hearing him laugh made her want to also. She’d never known someone who was as easygoing as Guiran. She envied it. “Then you should be able to give me that guitar lesson you promised.” He stepped into the room.

“Here? Now?” she asked, suddenly flustered. “There’s not really enough time for a proper lesson. I have to leave in a few hours for the airport.”

“Calm down, Mei—so serious all the time. I thought we’d gotten you over that. I’m not saying I want you to teach me to play Hendrix in the next three hours, but I think there’s time to get in a chord or two. I bet I catch onto guitar faster than you did boarding.”

Mei’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “Are you saying you’re a better student than I am?”

He smiled and cocked an eyebrow in challenge. “Why don’t we find out?”

“You’re on.”

Two hours in and Guiran had mastered A to D and E. “I told you I was a better student,” he said, strumming handily between the chords. “It took you this long to stay on the board for more than ten seconds without crashing into something.”

“Which doesn’t prove you’re the better student, only that I’m the better teacher,” she countered smugly.

Guiran snorted. “You
would
think that. Always have to be the best, the first, the most.” His middle finger slid off the string, causing the note to go awry.

“Here, like this,” she said, scooting closer. She draped her arm
around him, putting her left hand over his to show him how it was supposed to be done. “See? Smooth, with no pauses.”

But then Guiran entwined his fingers with hers, and the room got very still. Wow. Though it was near subzero outside, the temperature inside seemed to have suddenly risen to tropical highs in a matter of seconds. Izzy had been right—there really was something to this teaching thing.

Guiran turned so that he was looking over his shoulder at her and they were so close she could smell the spicy cinnamon of his breath. “I know you’re happy to be going home, Mei, but I wish you weren’t,” he said.

As she rested against him, the need to flee didn’t seem so strong. Even with everything she’d done in China—or maybe because of it—her time with Guiran suddenly didn’t feel anywhere near long enough.

“Having you here has made it almost … tolerable to be in this hole of a school,” he continued. “No, much better than that. It’s been fun.”

“Guiran, you’re the one who made the time I spent here so much better than it could have been.” She paused, wanting to say more. Wanting to do more. But ever-practical Mei pulled away. She was leaving in a few hours—now was not the time to let her emotions run away with her. “I would have been miserable if you hadn’t taken pity on me.”

He shot her a look that said she couldn’t be more wrong. “That wasn’t pity, Mei.” His eyes swept over her and his grin took on a whole new dimension. “Don’t forget saving you from prison in Communist China by dragging you out of that fountain.” They both laughed until she remembered how that escapade had ended.

“Nobody back home will ever believe me when I tell them that story.”

“Why not? You’re a guitarist, right? I think it’s a prerequisite for all rock stars to dance in their underwear in a fountain—even control freak ones.”

“Yeah, but back home, all most people see is the control freak. I’m
not some rebel rock goddess there. I’m Mei Jones, future valedictorian of Paris High School—at least, I hope I still am. After my academic performance here, I may be lucky to graduate at all.” Then she got very serious, the mirth leaving her voice. “But, Guiran, seriously … thank you for helping me search for my birth parents and for going with me to the SWI. Especially because I know it wasn’t easy for you, either.” She leaned in and kissed him, soft and gentle. His free hand came up and cupped her cheek while he kissed her back. It wasn’t like that kiss in the fountain, wild and impetuous and playful, and yet it was somehow better for it.

She pulled back first, gauging his reaction—
why was she always the one kissing him?
“I hope that wasn’t a good-bye kiss,” he said.

“No, not good-bye. We’ll always be friends.”

“Ouch.” He winced. “Friends.”

“Listen, meeting you was the one good thing that happened to me in China, Guiran, and I’d hate to think I’ll never get to see you again.” This was something she hadn’t considered when she’d set out that day to find a friend: at the end of this trip she’d have to give that friendship up when she went home.

Her bonds with Piper, Cassidy, and Izzy were time tested, meant to last all their lives. She wouldn’t have that with Guiran, but it didn’t make what they’d shared in their short time together any less meaningful. He had been by her side at one of the most personal moments of her life.

“Don’t worry about that. They have this thing called the Internet now,” he teased, lightening the mood again. “It’s an amazing technology people can use to connect with each other across vast distances.”

Mei punched his arm playfully, but she hoped he was right, that they would keep in touch. It made it easier to say good-bye.

Mei’s parents were waiting for her as soon as she exited the Dallas airport’s secure area. Mei couldn’t hold back the rush of tears that
came when she saw them. Her mom got to her first and grabbed her into a hug that she thought she’d need the Jaws of Life to pry herself out of.

“My little girl, my little girl,” her mom repeated, rocking Mei back and forth like she was a little girl. “I missed you so much.”

To her surprise, she found herself clinging to her mother just as fiercely. Ten weeks in China and her parents’ attention suddenly felt a lot less smothering.

“Susan, she can’t breathe. Let go, honey,” her dad said. Her mom finally eased up, but for the first time ever, Mei wasn’t ready to let go.

“Doodlebug, what’s wrong?” her dad asked.

“I just missed you. I really, really missed you.”

And then she was in her father’s arms, inhaling the scent of his aftershave. The same brand she’d bought him for Father’s Day when she was six and that he’d never stopped wearing. It felt so good to be a daughter again. To just let herself be loved. To—

Abruptly her mother pulled her out of her father’s arms.

“You are rail-thin, Mei,” her mom said once she got a good look at her. “Didn’t they feed you enough over there? Richard, get her suitcase. We’re going to eat right now. She looks like one of those Olsen twins.”

“I’m fine, Mom. I’m just really tired—you know I can’t sleep on a plane.” Her mouth started watering at the mere thought of food. “But something to eat would be nice.”

“Of course, sweetie, anything you want. Just pick a place.”

“Anything but Chinese food,” she answered. “If I never eat another sea cucumber …”

“Mexican food it is,” her mom said quickly.

Mmmmm. The thought of queso, guacamole, salsa, and never-ending baskets of tortilla chips made her stomach grumble with anticipation. Why couldn’t she have been adopted from Mexico? She was so glad to be back in Texas.

Once they’d made it to the restaurant and ordered, her parents
peppered her with questions about the trip. Funny, so often she’d yearned for a sibling, just so she wouldn’t be the sole focus of her parents’ scrutiny. Yet now, after missing it for ten weeks, she couldn’t help but revel in their attention. The way her mom wanted to know every single detail of the trip. The way her father hugged her to him in the big, circular booth, even as he listened indulgently as she and her mother chattered about anything and everything. Who knew it would be so easy to go from pariah to princess?

Over a huge platter of enchiladas, she told them about Shenyang, the school, her classes. She spoke some Mandarin phrases that she and Guiran had practiced, and they applauded her for learning so much while she was away. Little did they know that most of the Mandarin she recited was just different pizza toppings. But she wasn’t going to let them in on that little secret.

Then again, there were lots of secrets she wasn’t going to share, and she hadn’t been home long enough yet to feel guilty about that. Instead, she was going to channel Piper. What happened abroad, stayed abroad. For now, she would simply enjoy not just the reunion with her parents, but how being away had made being home so much sweeter.

By going to China she had opened a window into the heart of herself, into who she was and what it meant to be Mei Jones, Chinese adoptee to an American family. The girl who preferred guacamole to moo goo gai pan and Joan Jett to Chopin.

“Your friends have been calling, wondering when you were getting home,” her mother said. “It’ll be fun for all of you to catch up and compare stories now that you’re veteran international travelers.”

Mei almost choked on a mouthful of pico de gallo when she misheard her mother’s words as “international kissers.” Her dad patted her on the back and handed her a glass of water.

“Are you okay, Doodlebug?”

“Fi-fine. Swallowed wrong.”

Yes, she was sure they were all looking forward to having Piper,
the undisputed queen of the International Kissing Club, regale them with the grandiose tales of her salivic study of the Gallic male. Thanks to Guiran, though, she would not be without points of her own.

In fact, now that she was home and away from Dao-Ming, ostracization, and classes she couldn’t understand, she realized there wasn’t much she would have done differently.

Well, except the food—if she’d known how that was going to turn out, she would have packed some of Izzy’s granola bars.

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