In the quiet, suburban town of Willowbrook, a place known for its white-picket fences and overly friendly neighbors, lived a bright and vibrant young girl named Mei. Mei had just recently moved to America from the bustling city of Guangzhou, China, with her mom and dad. Both of Mei’s parents had found jobs in America thanks to their friends that already immigrated over; they had Mei learn English in China to prepare for their new life, but her Mandarin-inflected speech still carried the lyrical tones of her homeland. The 12-hour-long flight on the cold and dim-lit plane couldn’t conceal her excitement about her new American life. After an hour ride from the airport, past yellow and orange falling leaves, Mei and her parents finally reached their new suburban life.
The morning after the flight, Mei woke up extra early to get ready for school. She brushed her jet-black hair and tied it tightly into two neat braids. She carefully teased her straight-across bangs that concealed her slightly large forehead. Mei had already laid out her outfit beside her bed the night before: a simple white tee and red overalls that extended past her feet, but she made sure to roll up and cuff the pants to show her favorite pair of white sneakers. They were a goodbye gift from her grandmother back in Guangzhou, and she hasn’t worn a different pair since. These were the only pair of sneakers she brought along with her from the move. Mei loved the big black check logo on the sneakers. She didn’t know what it meant but it reminded her of checkmarks from teachers grading her tests. She loved seeing a full page of checkmarks, it was so satisfying and she felt pride in bringing home full marks on a test. She put on her socks, opened the window of her new and unfamiliar room, and felt the crisp autumn air slither in. It reminded her to bring a hoodie while walking outside, and she finally made her way downstairs in her new home.
It took her a while to find the staircase in her new labyrinth home. She felt cold and unfamiliar to her new surroundings as she throttled down the cold stairs, but snapped out of it after smelling the familiar scent of her father’s cooking. Maneuvering through dozens of moving boxes, Mei finally poked her head into her new kitchen and caught a sense of her life back in China. She saw the view she had seen time and time again, the back view of her dad cooking for the family in the kitchen.
“ Good morning ba,” Mei greeted her father in Mandarin.
“Hurry and eat your breakfast, your lunch is on the table” her dad said, without any eye contact, still focused on cooking.
Mei quickly pulled out a chair and quietly sat down. Across the table, she saw another bowl, empty after having been used. Next to it a clear mug filled halfway with coffee that had way too much water added in and a nudey red lipstick stain on the rim. In the middle of the table, there sat a plate with half eaten spicy radishes, fermented bean curd, pork floss and seaweed soaked in soy sauce, vinegar, and sugar, perfect side dishes for a steaming bowl of congee. Mei was never really a fan of congee. She preferred fried rice or steamed rice.
Congee is rice cooked in large amounts of water to create a porridge texture and it remind her of slime, sticky and thick, but she loved the side dishes for congee. Plus, she never had the guts to say it to her dad, he would just tell her to eat what he cooks and to never complain. Despite that, Mei always loved her dad’s food.
“Ma left for work already? It’s not even 8 yet.” Mei slurped her congee. It was already lukewarm, not steaming hot as she liked, adding more fuel to her hatred of congee.
“She already left at 7:30, why do you think I’m here cooking so early?” her dad said, his back still turned to Mei. Mei continued to eat her cold breakfast, listening to the familiar sound of her dad’s dull butcher knife chopping against the wood cutting board, thud, thud, thud.
“Here,” Mei’s dad said, finally turning around and offering Mei a bowl, “your mother told me to make you some soup, good for your health, you’ll need it. Look at you.”
Mei took the bowl into her hands and felt the warmness from the bowl against her fingers, slightly burning them but she loved that feeling. Black chicken soup. Her parents told her this was the soup for energy and health and she loved the flavor of sweetness from the goji berries and jujube dates that her dad added in the soup.
She finished her soup, slightly burning her tongue, and picked up her lunch bag and peeped inside to see what was for lunch. A thermos with black chicken soup and fried chive and pork dumplings, one of her favorite comfort foods. Looking at the dumplings it reminded Mei of times where she used to make them with her grandmother back in Guangzhou. They could always tell whose was whose because Mei was terrible at closing the dumpling skin, but grandmother would always help her. “Pinch, pinch, pinch,” her grandmother used to whisper. Mei’s vision began to blur as she felt hot streams coming down her cheek. She quickly wiped her tears away, dabbing her eyes with her shirt sleeve, slightly staining it. She didn’t want her father to see her vulnerable. She wanted to be strong in his eyes.
Mei then looked at the time: 7:46, time to go! She hurriedly put her lunch bag into her book bag and left for school.
“Ba, I’m leaving!”Mei yelled as she put on her favorite white sneakers, tightening the laces and dusting off some dirt. She finally headed out the door to her new school.
“Be safe! Come home straight away after school!” Her dad yelled back.
Mei followed a map that her mom had drawn for her to direct her way to school. They also practiced once after landing and trusted Mei to remember. After walking for 10 minutes, she had arrived at her new school, Redcrest Junior High School. She noticed the tall pole in the school yard and she followed it up, seeing an unfamiliar flag of red white and blue waving in the wind, and it served as a reminder that she was definitely not in China anymore. She snapped back down to ground level, looking around to see other children her age walking into the school building. Their hair looked like strands of gold and silky chocolate brown, ocean blue eyes that sparkled, and snowy white skin. Mei looked down at her black braids and her tan hands. She pursed her lips, put her hood up and thrust her hands in her pockets, and slowly carried herself into the school building.
Behind the map that her mom had drawn for Mei was a note written in Chinese for Mei to go to room 306, which was her new classroom. It said for Mei to find the teacher, Mrs. Frederico, and all she had to do was say her name. As Mei opened the doors to her new school, she was quickly overwhelmed with anxiety and excitement. She found a staircase and quickly went to the third floor. She already felt eyes on her and could feel people whispering already. She paid close attention to the doors as she sped by: 302… 303…304…305…306.
She slowly pushed the door open to 306, revealing her new classroom. Inside, clusters of desks created a sense of unity among students. At the front, a huge whiteboard that stretched from corner to corner, a stark contrast to the traditional chalkboards in China. The walls were a visual feast of educational posters with bold colors and students' artwork, showcasing individuality and creativity. Mei looked across the classroom, past the desks and up. There hung another American flag, to remind her yet again of where she was. She looked at the students in the class and noticed they were all looking at her. She scanned the classroom to finally find a figure that towered over them all.
That must be Mrs. Frederico, Mei thought. She closed the door behind her and stood by a huge desk. The teacher's desk, with a thick computer and chunky keyboard. Behind it, a vase of colorful flowers and a collection of Christmas and birthday cards taped on the sides of the desk. Mei waited for the only adult in the classroom to acknowledge her. Mrs. Frederico walked over.
“Hello, Mrs. Freder? Freder richo? My name is Mei, I am new,” Mei loudly said.
Mrs. Frederico smiled and whispered, “I know, and its Frederico.” She positioned Mei to the front of the class, and snapped her fingers twice and held up two fingers. The whole class turned away from their whispers and conversations and also held up two fingers in response. The class was silent.
“306, this is Mei Wang. She's a new student in this class and the country.” Mrs. Frederico chuckled. “ Mei, tell us about yourself.”
“Well, I am from Guangzhou, China and my favorite color is red, and . . . ah . . .” Mei suddenly froze. She didn’t know what else to say and slowly lowered her head and looked down to see her white sneakers peeking through her red pants. She suddenly had a rush of excitement.
“And, and, and, these are my favorite shoes! From my grandmother in China! She gave it to me as a gift for moving from GuangZhou to America!” She lifted her red overalls above her ankles and the class peered over their desks to examine the amazing sneakers.
“Psh. They’re just Nike. I thought it was something way cooler,” someone whispered.
Mei heard another murmur from the desks, “Literally everyone wears Nike. Do they like not have that in China. Is it like rare or something?”
Mei's face turned the same color as her overalls and she slowly let down her pants. She could feel her face getting hotter and hotter.
“Wait!” someone screamed.
The whole class turned. It was a boy with brown spikey hair. He had a piercing on his left ear. “They’re not even real Nikes! It says MIKE on her shoes!” He pointed to Mei and started laughing.
The whole class turned their heads back to Mei and looked down and noticed what the boy said was true. Some giggles and loud laughs were let out, but some protested against the laughter.
“That's not even funny, Joseph,” someone yelled.
“I don’t even see you wearing Nike’s, Joe,” another voice exclaimed.
Joseph scoffed and rolled his eyes, annoyed by the comments. Mei quickly uncuffed her pants and they extended past her shoes, hiding them. Ms. Frederico told the class to calm down and had Mei take her seat, which was far away from Joseph. As Mei sat down, a familiar voice greeted her.
“Hey, don’t pay attention to Joseph, he’s dumb,” she said. Mei recognized the voice. She was the one that told Joseph what he said wasn’t funny.
“Hi, I am Mei. Thank you for being so nice.” Mei whispered, “What is your name?”
“Oh, I’m Penelope, but you can call me Pen.” She smiled at Mei.
Pen. Mei thought that it sounded like the pronunciation for friend in Mandarin, Peng You, and immediately wanted to be friends with her.
“I'm wearing Nike shoes, too.” Pen pointed to her feet. “I don’t really care that yours are spelled MIKE. My little brother’s name is Mike so I thought it was kinda cute.”
Mei let out a small smile and began to roll up and cuff her pants proudly.
“Do you want to eat lunch with me?” Mei asked, nervously. She didn’t want to make any eye contact with Pen, fearing rejection.
“Oh, definitely! Lunch is my favorite period,” Pen said with excitement. “I’ll show you around, too.”
Mei couldn’t wait for lunch and watched the clock for most of the class, tick tick tick, until the last tick, and the lunch bell rang. Pen quickly led Mei to the school cafeteria, and they found an empty table. Mei excitedly opened her lunch. The strong aroma of chives from her dumplings filled the surrounding area.
“Ewww . . .” Joe gagged while walking by. “Close that shit, it smells!” He made an expression of pretending to barf and laughed.
Mei felt her face heat up again and quickly closed the container. She was so excited to eat her favorite lunch. She pulled out her thermos to drink her soup. She stuck her chopsticks down the opening and pulled out a piece of tender black chicken meat. Before it even reached her mouth, the familiar thunder rained on her again.
“EW. Why is the meat black!?” Joe shouted, gaining the attention of students nearby.
Pen couldn’t take it anymore, watching Joe constantly harassing Mei.
“Joseph, why are you always talking about Mei and what she’s doing? Do you have a crush on her or something?”
The cafeteria sounds of chewing and gossip were replaced by “ohhs,” causing Joe to turn red. He couldn’t think of any comeback so he scoffed at Pen and shot Mei a dirty look.
Pen looked back at Mei, giving her a reassuring smile. Pen took Mei’s container of dumplings and opened it, stabbing one with her fork and eating the whole thing in one bite.
“Damn, this is pretty good! Like, really REALLY good.” Pen said. Truthfully, she didn’t expect it to taste good, the smell of dumplings after sitting in a container at room temperature can create an unpleasant smell. She just wanted Mei to feel better about eating her food.
“I think it is called dumplings,” Mei explained, “ in Mandarin it is jiaozhi.”
A small crowd had gathered around Mei and Pen’s table, wanting to answer their curiosities and try Mei’s dumplings as well. Pen shooed them away, telling them that Mei had to eat, too. Mei’s confidence grew back and she started eating her dumplings happily.
After lunch ended, Mei went about her day, finishing her very first day of school in this unfamiliar land. Mei made multiple glances toward Pen, who had been helpful throughout the whole school day. A question was brewing inside Mei as the last bell rang, signaling the end of her long school day. Mei saw Pen packing her bag and tapped her on the shoulder.
“Thank you so much for today Pen,” Mei quietly said. She took a deep breath and said, “You liked the jiaozi so much, do you want to come to my house? My dad will cook—”
“Oh my god, YES! I just gotta call my mom though. She’s chill, don’t worry,” Pen said.
As the two were making their way back to Mei’s home, Mei glanced down at her sneakers, then shifted her gaze to Pen's Nike shoes. Her eyes widened as she noticed a small alteration on Pen's sneakers – a black scribble on the "N" in the Nike logo, with a neatly drawn "M" beside it. Mei refrained from inquiring about the creative change; instead, an overwhelming surge of warmth and gratitude swelled within her. The chilling autumn breeze was no match for her now.
Vivian Zhang is a junior at the School of Visual Arts majoring in Illustration. She was born and raised in NYC, and loves to draw cute and random things. "Being an Asian American has had a big influence on my artwork," Vivian says, "and I hope one day to incorporate those things in my work professionally!"