Red Thread Sisters (9781101591857) by Carol Antoinette Peacock

sprinted back to the sidewalk and huddled against the school wall.
    Just then, her mother’s car pulled up at the curb.
    â€œWen, I’m over here,” her mother called from the driver’s seat. “I got stuck in traffic. Sorry I’m a little late.”
    Wen got up from the wall, her back still sore, her legs shaking. In measured steps, Wen walked to the car. She climbed into the front seat quickly so her mother wouldn’t see her trembling.
    â€œHow was your first day?” her mother asked.
    Wen clasped her hands tight in her lap.
    â€œWhat is it, Wen? You’re so quiet. Did something bad happen today?”
    Wen said nothing. What was bad was her mother leaving her like that in front of the school, all alone.
    At the stop sign, Wen’s mother grasped Wen’s fingers. “Honey, you’re freezing!” Wen’s mother pretended to shiver. “Cold?”
    â€œNot cold.” Wen turned to the window.
    â€œHoney, tell me,” her mother said.
    â€œHey, you very late.” Wen kept the back of her head to her mother. “Almost you not come.”
    â€œI know. I was about five minutes late.” Her mother raised five fingers. “I’m really sorry, sweetie.”
    â€œNot five. Very late. You I not see.” Wen talked to the glass.
    â€œI’m so sorry, Wen. You must have been worried.” Her mother’s voice wavered.
    â€œI not worry.”
    Wen’s mother stopped the car in front of their house. Gingerly, she reached for Wen’s chin and held her face in her hands.
    â€œLook at me,” her mother said, still holding Wen’s chin, so that Wen had to lock her eyes right onto her mother’s.
    â€œI will always come for you, do you understand, Wen? I always come.”
    Wen turned her chin away. It wasn’t true. Her mother didn’t always come. She almost didn’t come that afternoon.
    â€œI not worry,” Wen said. Then she edged away from her mother and stared at the window, not speaking.

eight
    That night at dinner, Wen’s mother handed her a silver cell phone. “Dad and I got you this so you can call if you need us.”
    Wen inspected the sleek phone in her palm. Her parents had bought this so she wouldn’t worry, like this afternoon. Were they annoyed she caused them to buy her a fancy new phone?
    â€œHow come she gets a cell phone and I don’t?” Emily asked. “It’s not fair!”
    â€œBecause she’s new to everything here and may want to call us,” said their father.
    â€œSuppose I need you?” Emily demanded. “She gets one just because she’s new?”
    â€œCalm down, Emily,” their mother warned, glancing uneasily at Wen. “You’re only in second grade, sweetie. You’re too young for a cell phone.”
    â€œAll you ever do is pay attention to Wen,” Emily whined. “Don’t I count anymore?”
    Wen saw Emily’s eyes brim with tears, as if she were about to cry. She couldn’t make Emily cry.
    â€œYou can try mine,” Wen offered.
    â€œCome on, Emily, of course you count.” Wen’s mother rubbed Emily’s back. “We have lots of love to go around for everybody. We have to help Wen until she gets used to things, that’s all.”
    Wen put her face in her hands. She had made Emily mad. She had gotten her parents upset. She had caused too much trouble.
    Then Wen felt her father’s hands pry her fingers, gingerly, one by one, off her face. “It’s OK, Wen,” said her father. “Emily’s just a little upset, that’s all. We’re all really glad you’re here. Aren’t we, Emily?”
    Emily picked at her macaroni and cheese and said nothing.
    After dinner, Wen went into her bedroom. In the kitchen, she could hear her parents both speaking in lowered tones with Emily. Were they talking about her?
    They were going to send her back. Maybe she’d