(~ Swirly-Brackets ~ imply the Characters aren't speaking English)
Chapter 1:
"Tī gèng nán !~Kick Harder~!" The coach screamed, dulling the eardrums of the unsubtly semi-muscular Chinese girl. She was going back and forth, kicking the white bag repeatedly without hesitation-without strength-much to the disapproval of the coach.
"~You're not even moving the bag!~" The coach cried, dropping to his knees, "~HIT IT!~"
"~I…..I c-cant!" Ming whispered, feeling tears roll down her cheek as her knee-joints numbed. Her constant kicks were slowing and her balance on her left leg was weakening. The white bag was hardly swinging back and forth, the ever-more uncoordinated kicks weren't having much of an effect-a major disappointment to the harsh coach. She wasn't the same since that battle in Maryland; her kicks were weaker, her self-esteem had diminished, and her love for kick-ball was almost non-existent.
"~Stop…..~" The coach groaned, lifting a hand to the hyperventilating child. She immediately collapsed on her knees and held herself up by her hands, trying to catch her breath. Her eyes quickly locked with the glare of her buff trainer-convincing her to turn away and pretend to be interested in something on the other side of the gym. She heard another familiar sigh before the trainer walked to the stacked mats and grabbed his water bottle. She cringed as he downed the predictably cool bottled water, 'As if he needs it!' She thought, feeling the sharp pain of constant exhaling in her lungs.
"~Ming, you're a disappointment~," The coach said coldly, but considerably normal for Eastern standards. She rose to her feet in attention, although her gaze still remained downwards. "~Sixty thousand Yuan….and you still cannot be trained, even by me!~"
"~My leg lacks en~,"
"~I don't need to hear your shitty excuse, Mr. Long-Dou will be picking you up, ~" He said, a little enraged at her back-talk. Ming sighed and sat down on the mat, resting as her body tingled with worry. Her Grandfather was cruel, and surely wouldn't accept the ever-growing evidence that she was destroyed by that game some months ago. Her lips curled into a slight smile, oddly reminiscing about that game. The outcome was nothing to be proud of but the atmosphere of America was astounding: the food they ate, the huge houses, reasonable adults, relaxed culture, and dedicated patriotism.
She often found herself pondering about the United Statesâ€"desperate to return and blend in with the rest of those cocky Asian-Americans, as they called them. However that one boyâ€"with the fluffy hairâ€"she'd never forget. The little smile on her lips melted upon the realization that her Grandfather stood in front of her, his always half-open eyes glaring soullessly at her.
"~Get up,~" He muttered, before turning to the suddenly less-important coach, who followed her grandfather like a slave. "~I tried my hardest Mr. Long-Dou, but she just won't budge! She's unfit to play!~" He complained. Ming was quick to object but caught herself in the realization that she'd receive a harsh slap if she said anything to her Grandfather.
"~Also we have an issue with talking back!~" The trainer complained even more, somewhat being listened to by the slightly uninterested yet focused businessman. "~I think she got it from those Westerners, annoying kids!~" The Chinese businessman then chuckled and raised a hand to the trainer, who quickly shut up.
"~We thank you for your efforts, but I've realized what I need to do in order to get Ming back in shape~," The man said before handing over a large stack of money to the more younger trainer. He quickly grabbed it and ran to the office, announcing his thanks as he searched for cash-box. Ming walked over to her disappointed Grandfather who deliberately chose not to look at her.
"~I'm sorry~," She muttered.
"~Get in the car, you've forced my hand, ~" Mr. Long-Dou groaned, walking out the building. A cloud of worry arose in her, unsure what the forced my hand comment meant. She quickly hurried to the car, jumping in the back seat of the miniature limousine. Her sweaty legs slid across the leather seats-making her itchy-and strapped herself in with the seat belt.
Her Grandfather was sipping some alcoholic beverage before letting out a cough and put the drink back in the cup holders. Ming was growing impatient, but was too scared to say anything as the dead silence continued. She fiddled with her white t-shirt, her olive colored fingers kept shivering. She smelled too, and she hoped that her hygiene didn't ruin the smell of the car.
"~Ming, your loss back in Baltimore was a disgrace to your family,~" He scolded softly, causing Ming to flinch at the sound of her 'parents', "~And to my Beijing friends as well, let alone the entire nation if they were aware of it.~" Ming then moved her elbow on the rest and forcefully stared out the window, trying to not make eye contact. Another one of those 'disappointed' yet hurtful sighs released from her Grandfather's lips.
"~You can forgot about your return to Kowloon,~" He stated, cruelly. Ming immediately flipped around and looked at him with a devastated face. 'How could he!?' The old man didn't seem fazed by her heartbreaking sadness but grew a frown when her lips started stuttering for the right words against him.
"B-But, you promised! I wanted t-to see my M-Mother and F-," Mr. Long-Dou immediately cut her off, not tolerating back talk. "~You….do….NOT BACK TALK ME!~" He shouted at her, Ming immediately jumped back to her seat. "~I already asked your parents, we're changing plans, and you've been removed from the Osaka International Competition," He said angrily, again another heart break to the little Chinese girl.
"~Am I going back to training in Hong Kong?~" She asked, a tone of despair in her voice. However, Mr. Long-Dou completely ignored the question, and opened his briefcase. Ming heard the clinging of the clips and looked over at what he was pulling out his suitcase, she presumed it was nothing more than bad news. She shifted over, suddenly interested even more in what he was fiddling with in his suitcase. Then he pulled a picture out.
"~I found this under your mattress,~" He said, holding up a photo of some black kid-obviously taken without his knowledge by some sort of camera or phone.
Ming's eyes widened and a blush glowed on her cheeks before she quickly turned away, shifting her legs as she did. Mr. Long-Dou let out a comical smirk before looking at the picture himself and grinning, "~This was the star athlete of the American team, he was one of those black Americans y'know? Hip-o-Hop and stuff,~" He laughed, putting the picture down.
Ming cringed as she described that boy, Huey, she so dearly obsessed over. Again her legs shifted at the little tingle in her nether regions, a reminder of what she did with that photo last night. If not almost every night she had pleased herself, and now her Grandfather found it.
"~If you really wanted a black boyâ€"although I don't know whyâ€"you could've taken a train to Guangzhou or something,~" He joked, oddly very different from his earlier attitude. Ming however didn't find the joke funny, actually he missed the point.
"~It's not the same, they're not the sameâ€"I don't like them at all,~" Ming whispered to herself, quickly shooting down the joke of her visiting the Africans in China. "~I don't think the Africans look or sound cool, the blacks in America are different than the rest,~" Ming explained, seeing the groups as almost two different races.
"~I know that!~" Mr. Long-Dou chuckled loudly, still grinning at the image of Huey. "~They have better fashion, their hair is different and silkier in the States….but they don't look THAT different, eh?~" He asked, somewhat concerning Ming as the conversation became too casual. "~And they have their own set of problems as well,~" He added, making a 'shooting' gesture with his fingers.
"~Why'd you bring up the black boy?~" Ming asked, not wanting to trail into this conversation for much longer, "~And why were you snooping in my room?~" Mr. Long-Dou's little smile turned to a harsh frown as his eyebrows pushed down and his lips stretched out. "~What the hell does that mean, Snooping? You live under MY ROOF, your things belong to ME!~" Ming quickly realized her error and turned around, nodding in agreement to calm himself.
"~S-Sorry!~" She quickly cried.
"When you get home, I want you to pack your bags and prepare for a shuttle to the airport tomorrow," He said, oddly in English.
"~W-Why are you speaking in English?~" She asked, continuing along in Mandarin.
"You are going to the United States tomorrow, it will be most fitting with your new Western attitude of talking back and lack of determination in every field," He scolded in English, again. Ming blinked confusingly, unsure why he'd go to such lengths to toss her all over the world, especially to a nation that surely would have less options for harsh and unethical training.
"~Why Ameri-~"
"Speak in English, it's America's language so you had better get used to it," Mr. Long-Dou told her, like a typical English teacher in Asia..
"Ehm….why America?" She asked again, this time in English.
"Because Ming, your black boy lives there," He explained, pulling out a cigar from the suitcase. "And if you're to beat the Japanese, Koreans, or even the Vietnamese again, you need training better than your former." Ming's eyes widened and her mind numbed as he mentioned going to America because of Huey, 'But wait!'
"Will I see him?" She asked, unsure where in America she'd be place in.
"Why…of course, but you're not there to be friends or enemies, you're there to train," He warned, knowing that she had some sort of crush on this child. Ming was overcome with emotions of both joy and humiliation, being thrown across the Pacific because she was weak but also being rewarded with the chance to see Huey again. Although it always bothered her if he even liked Chinese girls; he was black and from the U.S.A., it wasn't known for blacks there to be into them., nor the other way around.
"I've arrange with a friend of mine that you'll have proper housing and food in the States, " Mr. Long-Dou said, a smile curled on his lips again.
"You mean….I'll live with him?" Ming whispered, her excitement building for the first time in a while.
-Woodcrest, Maryland, United Statesâ€"
"Mr. Wuncler sir, you have got to be kidding me!" Mr. Freeman whined.
"Look this is a serious financial investment I'm risking here," Ed Wuncler argued, lighting his cigar. "Now that the economy is slowly getting back on its feet I think I got the East right where I want them, and I need to get my manufacture out of there."
"So, what dat garbage got to do with us?" Mr. Freeman asked, still unsure about all of this.
"In order for us to get out of China safely without inspection from the PRC, I have to be on Mr. Long-Dou's good side, you know how the chinks work," He laughed, puffing smoke out his mouth. Mr. Freeman laughed uncomfortably before glancing over at the kitchen door where Riley stood, pigging out on his ice cream.
"You do this for me, and I can get you that yacht you've been aching for," Ed Wuncler smiled, his familiar glare which just screamed 'Crony Capitalist' wasn't enough nullify the sound of a new yacht. Mr. Freeman immediately jumped to his feet, smiling widely as he shook his hand and cheered to himself.
"I'LL DO IT!" He jumped around, "A BEAUTIFUL YACHT!"
"A big yacht as well, all you got to do is take care of the girl for a while, and have Huey do what we agreed on, and it's yours by Sunday," Ed Wuncler smiled, knowing he got the best part of this deal. The black old man was bouncing around, cheering wildly as his grandson watched him in agony.
"Yo Granddad! Watch out, you nearly knocked my ice cream over!" Riley cried, pulling his bowl out the path of Robert Freeman's rampant run around. "Crazy ass granddad, ain't nobody gonna ruin my hot day!" The child then walked to the living room and ran into Ed Wuncler, who of course was sporting his evil corporate smile.
"Riley, how would you like to have a Chinese sister?" He asked, for the sake of stringing him along.
"Like them niggas in the West who adopt them Asian kids? Nah, my street cred would be down, can't be seen with no Asian bitches unless they're goin' down!" Riley said, much to the humor of Ed Wuncler who walked over to the door and shouted for Robert Freeman.
As Riley and Mr. Freeman stood next to Ed he put his hand on the door handle, grinning back over at them. "Say 'Konnichiwa' to your new housemate Freemans," Ed laughed, opening the front door. "I think that's Korean, Mr. Wuncler," Mr. Freeman politely explained. The fat white man frowned before rolling his eyes and swinging the door open, "Say hello to Ming Long-Dou!"
Ming stood thereâ€"for about thirty minutes beforehandâ€"and with her familiar half-assed grin looking up at them. Although this time, she wasn't smiling like she was a year ago, and sported a neutral glare.
'Okay, they don't look that bad, nice house too.'
"Hey! It's that crazy Chinese bitch!" Riley cried.
'Never mind, and why'd he call me a bitch? Is that a black thing?'
"Oh, it's just the crazy kick ball player," Mr. Freeman said in relief, indirectly inconsiderate.
"Now we shouldn't call her that, as she will be living with you for now on," Ed Wuncler explained, walking out the door and pushing the stubborn Chinese girl inside. "You'll be responsible for a Red's kid for a while, don't fuck it up," He explained, causing Ming to cringe at reference to the term 'Red.'
"Yes, we'll take care of…..Ling, is it?" Mr. Freeman asked.
"No, MING!" She quickly corrected, a little loudly as well.
"Oh, why thank you little girl," Mr. Freeman laughed, along with Ed as they uncomfortably parted ways. The black grandfather quickly closed the door and excitedly ran back into the kitchen, trying to find the portable phone. "MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME!" He screamed, more concerned with bragging to his friends about a yacht.
Ming dropped her bags on the floor and looked over at Riley, again in her familiar 'unimpressed' glare. She wasn't sure how to approach these people; at first glance she would merely see them as temporary helpers, like those lower-class Africans in Guangzhou, but then she looked at Riley's headphones, his hair and that bowl of ice cream. They're Americans, and they have lots of money like the wealthy American blacks she saw on TVâ€"all the people in this country made her feel somewhat inferior. She hated that the most.
"Aw-ite! My name is Riley, our Crew is called the 'Freemans', and sorry nigga but you gotta sleep on the lawn!" Riley joked, popping up and down as he danced around. Ming was a little stunned, surprised such people would treat her as such.
'The lawn? They couldn't get me a room or something!?' She thought, unable to argue against the judgment of the head of the house. Riley noticed her frustrated frown, even her little darkened lips were tingling. He stopped dancing and sighed, realizing she was a little thick to get through with such harsh humor.
"Hey man, I waz just kiddin'," Riley said, forcing a smile. Ming looked up angrily at him, grabbing her bags and muttering something in Mandarin under her breath, "Bèn hÄ"i húndà n!" Riley blinked, a little stunned that she so quickly rushed to the boy's room without permission. "Hey! You can't go up there!" Riley cried, quickly following the Chinese girl as she ignored him and kicked their door open.
Immediately a sense of awkwardness overcame her as she observed the large room of the boys, astonishingly large for merely two kids. At least back in China it was considered large. She dropped her bags and got lost in the room, completely drowning out Riley's objections. She stared at the familiar image of a sophisticated looking radical on the poster, her eyes glanced over at the dresser which had afro-picks and hair-gel for black people.
Then she was quickly brought to reality by the unpleasant smell of sweaty socks and other such odors, upon realization she had mindlessly wandered to the dirty hamper in the corner. She quickly jerked away from the basket, almost running into Riley.
"Yo, I'm talkin' to yah! Do I'h need to speak Chinese or somethin'?" Riley complained, getting the attention of Ming who was more concerned with Huey's whereabouts. "What do you Americans do for entertainment, I'll pack my bags later," Ming asked, a little more concerned with actually fulfilling her trip this time. Only visiting America once, she was quickly brought in to play, and quickly taken back to Shanghai, so she didn't get to enjoy much the first time.
"I dunno nigga, we play 'dem video games, y'know fucking Madden '12!" Riley cheered, hoping Ming would understand. Predictably she didn't and suddenly found fascination in the black box labeled Playstation 3, forcing her to walk over and pick up the console.
"This is a Playstation?" Ming asked, seemingly fascinated with the product. Riley rushed over to make sure she wouldn't drop it or anything.
"Yeah, don't break it tho," Riley said, looking over at her observing eyes. "Why are you so into it, you made Playstaion, y'know, Sony and all," Ming frowned and looked over at him, "You don't confuse me for a Japanese, I'm not like them at all." Riley grinned at her threatening tone, but quickly corrected her as he snatched it away and flipped it upside, pointing at the plastic implemented label.
"See that! Made in China!" Riley explained before handing it back to the stunned Ming, "And I don't kno why you'd be all mad at me for callin' you a Japanese but whatever, thought y'all was related."
"These consoles are banned in China, I didn't know we make them too," Ming whispered, learning more about her own country in ironically a different country. Finally getting her fill, she place the console down and walked over to the bunk bed before hearing a loud 'bang' from the front door.
"Who is that?" She said, the 'th' in the word 'that' highlighting her Chinese accent. Riley shrugged and pointed at the door, "I don't know, might be Huey." That immediately caught Ming's attention, although the name sounded different than how she believed it to be pronounced.
"Wait, Hue-eiiie? Not, Hue-way?" She asked, a little blush appearing on her face. Riley nodded, again not paying much attention as he lead Ming out their room. "Hue-ey, that is your brother, right? He has big, round hair, right?!" She nagged, causing Riley to stumble back a bit in fear.
"Hey, yo, I don't know 'bout yo kung-fu shit but you better back off, this house got 9's!" Riley threatened, but it didn't make a lot of sense to Ming, so she inhaled sharply and exhaled. Keeping her patience with this idiot, who clearly wasn't a good representation of the family Huey belonged to.
"Is dat your brother!" She said sternly, "I mean, 'th-aht', is 'that' your brother?"
"Who, Huey? Yeah, he is but I ain't bragging about it," Riley snarled before folding his arms and tilting his head away from Ming, "You remember that pussy-ass nigga? He's downstairs right now, I guess," Riley explained, causing Ming's head to spin a little. Ming never thought she would see Huey beyond her poorly taken photo of him trying to kick a ball, let alone actually speak with him in a zone not dominated by competition.
'We're in a house, together!' Ming thought, her fingers twitching as she quickly squeezed them into a fist and forced herself to do a little march down the stairway. Riley cocked a brow at her attitude, thinking she was trying to beat Huey up or something with that forcefully stern face. Riley let out a little giggle and followed Ming's silly 'strong girl' march, as they loudly walked down the stairway.
Huey quietly place his backpack down in front of the doorway, pulling out his iPod and turning off a song he was listening to with his ear-phones. As he looked over at the weird red and white bags on the floor he started to shout at Riley, who he presumed was making the loud noises of walking down the stairway.
"Riley, is this your bag?" He asked, observing it and noticing the Chinese flag on the top, "Y'know Granddad is going to be pissed if you leave your stuff here." Huey could hear the footsteps get closer to him, again assuming it was Riley acting silly. He unzipped the bag and pulled out a white Nike shoe with a red Nike logo, already astonished by its size he quickly noticed the lack of stench from the shoes. 'These can't be his shoes, who'd he steal these from?'
Huey then tipped his nose into the insides of the shoe, again the lack of stench stumped him. They smelled used, but they didn't stink like Riley's shoes normally do and….
"Uh….wh-wha!" Huey heard a soft voice stutter. His face made a suspicious frown, slowly turning around to see the Chinese girl standing behind him. Huey was a little stunned and looked quickly around to see if anyone else was seeing what he saw, some random Asian girl dressed in generic red and yellow sports sweat pants and a white and red jacket was shyly grinning at him.
Huey then looked at the shoe in his hand and back up at the girl, thinking he realized what the problem was and quickly let out a uncomfortable laugh and placed the shoe down. Quickly jumping back up and scratching his head, "Okay, look I know you think I'm a weirdo for that, but I thought it was my brother's," Huey explained uncomfortably, seeing no change in Ming's expression.
Huey feeling even more odd then quickly tried to get Riley, "Riley! Riley get down here! Heh, trust me, I thought it was his, hold on, RILEY!" Ming was a little stunned by why he was sniffing her shoes, and the first conclusion was that he remembered her and had a crush on her. Boys in China would surely be obsessed with the smell of a girl they loved, why not here?
However she quickly sensed by Huey's lack of speaking to her by her name, that he had no clue who she was and was merely embarrassed for some odd reason because he smelled her shoes. Her senses lowered and her excitement diminished a bit, but she had to force herself to socialize with her Western crush.
"Hu-Huey, I'm very glad to see you," Ming stammered, already flashing back to the climatic ending of the kickball games. If he remembered her, would he hate her?
Huey uncomfortably let out another laugh before resuming to shouting for Riley, but Ming didn't want him down here. "N-No, Huey, he doesn't need to come down here! I forgive you!" She again stammered, unsure of how to react to Huey's desperate shouting.
"What do you want, nigga?" Riley groaned, holding a PSP in his hand, "I'm tryin' to do a dunk on Kobe, blud! I got'z like 45 seconds left in the game!" The two kids looked back at him at the top of the staircase, before looking back at each other, although the 'familiar' feelings was a one-way street.
"Nevermind, I think she's forgave me," Huey said, as he heard Riley laugh from the stairway. "Hey Huey, crazy Bruce Lee bitch was callin' you Hue-way, it was hilarious my nigga!" Riley joked, as he walked back up the stairway.
Huey immediately grew a frown at his racist commentary and looked back at the still dazed Chinese girl, who seemed more interested in staring at him as oppose to anything else. 'This girl looks a little familiar…'
"Excuse me, I apologize for Riley's behavior-its ignorance in the black community," Huey smiled, which immediately raised another smile from Ming. "Oh that's okay! I don't care Huey, I haven't seen you in a year!" Huey kept staring at her intensely, unsure where he saw her before, and then the colors of her bag and her clothes started giving him clues. 'Holy shit….it's-'
"It's you!" Huey cried, rudely pointing at her, "The Chinese girl, uh….uh…MING!"
"You remember!?" Ming happily asked, but her attitude was quickly distracted by Huey taking a large step backwards. "W-Why are you going?" Ming asked, taking another step forwards. Huey held a hand up to her and took another step back, "I don't want to hurt you, no hard feelings or anything."
"Of course!" Ming laughed, holding her hand out for a handshake, "No hard feelings, my nig-gah!"
Huey blinked and looked at her hand for a moment before making a slightly irritated frown and motioned for her to put her hand away, confusingly she did. "Okay, I don't know where in China you heard that, but unless you're Filipino or from some really dark part of Chinatown, you don't say that," Huey said a little sternly, causing distress for Ming.
"W-Wait, what did I say!" Ming stammered, trying her best to speak with him on her terms.
"The real question is, what are you doing in our house?" Huey asked, still concerned with her being here. Ming looked around, almost forgetting why she was here as well before Mr. Freeman walked cheerfully back into the room.
"I heard all the commotion, I see-ya' talkin' with yo new sister," Mr. Freeman said, incredibly cheerful with his attitude. Huey cocked a brow and Ming blushed at the thought, she certainly couldn't be seen as his sister if she was to accomplish what she truly wanted.
"Uh…yeah," Ming muttered, trying to wipe her embarrassed smirk.
"Oookay, so why is she here again?" Huey asked, specifically towards his Granddad. Mr. Freeman chuckled and quickly explained the deal, "Well Mr. Schultz came along with this little ol' Chinese girl and said he'd give me a yacht if you trained her in kick ball for some months."
"KICKBALL?!" Huey screamed, shocked that he would even ask him to do that.
"Why yes of course, wh-"
"I told you Granddad, I don't play Kickball anymore! I won't!" Huey argued, receiving a sharp angry glare from Mr. Freeman. "Boy, you ain't bout to ruin this for us, are yah?" He asked, threateningly and his right hand unbuckling his belt. Ming confusingly look between the two, unsure what he was intending to do with his belt but also concerned with what Huey just said. "Why don't you play kickball anymore?" She asked, concerned for him.
"It's none of your business!" Huey snapped at the girl, scaring her a bit.
"No Huey, why don't you tell her!" Mr. Freeman said, pulling the belt out his pants holsters, "Tell her why she traveled all across 'dem seas for ." Huey gulped but stood firm and refused to back down, "I refuse, I'll never kick or pitch another ball again."
"Why not, you were very good?" Ming asked, innocently.
"All that game did was cause me trouble," Huey groaned before glancing down at her healed shin, "You should remember especially." Ming frowned at his obvious reference to the game, she was hoping they'd put the past behind them. The fact was that she would have to take matters into her own hands, after all, Chinese people invented the art of persuasion.
"I think I should talk to Huey alone, Mister Freeman," She said, a little confidently. Both Mr. Freeman and Huey looked over at her, both skeptical and curious at the same time. Huey took a step away from the girl, stubbornly refusing to interact with her. Mr. Freeman sighed and motioned for them to talk upstairs, "Go ahead, tell Riley to come down here if he's distracting."
Ming nodded and with the help of Mr. Freeman's threatening posture, Huey reluctantly followed her up the stairs and into the boy's room. As she opened the door, she quickly rushed over to the dancing Riley who was a little stunned by her sudden appearance.
"Damn, nigga! Don't be poppin' up all ninja on me like dat!" Riley complained, which Ming readily ignored and pointed towards the door where Mr. Freeman stood. "Leave, now!" She threatened. Riley frowned and looked over at the slightly discouraged Huey, who refused to look back.
"Aite, I don't know what's goin' on tho," Riley said, walking out the room which was promptly followed by a loud bang of the slamming of the door.
Ming looked over at Huey, who looked away and slowly moved towards his bed. She watched him as he sat down on the mattress and rolled over, trying to ignore the inevitable conversation. Ming breathed in and walked slowly towards him, already remembering the times she fantasized about him.
"~Nándà o nÇ wà ng liÇŽo rúhé shuÅ pÇ"tÅ nghuà ma,Huey?~" She said softly, standing over him in his bed. She had to smirk at his childish mannerisms, currently facing the other way in the bed like a stubborn child.
"No! This is the United States, we speak English here, who cares if I know how to speak it or not!" Huey replied, with an angry slander. He arose in his bed-sitting upright-and stared her down, truly confused as to why she was here but needed no reminder of his inability to play kickball civilly.
"….You're right, I'll speak your language here," Ming said, a little down. Huey grinned but turned his head away, unable to act smug at his quick win. "But I'd kill to hear you speak Chinese again, being a black boy and all," Ming blushed, scratching her cheek in embarrassment.
"Why did Ed Schultz, that crony bastard, send you here?" Huey asked, getting straight to the point.
"You know why, kickball," Ming replied.
"I know, but why here," Huey asked again, "He knows how I feel about you." Ming grinned at that, "How DO you feel about me?" Huey glanced over and rolled his eyes, taking his hands and rubbing his itchy scalp, "I mean playing against you-I don't like the rivalry-nothing personal."
"Interesting," She said before letting out a little giggle and flopping on the bed next to him, "That is not how I feel about you." Huey immediately conjured up a lewd thought but trashed the idea, scolding himself for what he believed to be was taking advantage of a merely innocent gesture by Ming. The Chinese girl looked over at him, she was trying to look seductive but merely embarrassed herself with odd giggles and goofy grins, she couldn't help herself from the embarrassment.
Huey curled his lips and looked away, ever-more bemused by this silly scenario. He jumped off the bed and quickly rushed to the door, but halted at the sound of her admittedly cute emphasized English.
"I will not stop following you until you help me with kickball," Ming sternly stated, refusing to give up. She hadn't traveled across the Pacific for the sake of being refused, especially by a boy she envied.
"You Chinese need to learn how to quit, you guys are driving yourselves off cliffs and I don't just mean economically," Huey groaned, feeling a hand grip his shoulder. He sighed and looked over at her little smile, one of friendliness, not arrogance like her default, "And the Americans need to be more like you, Huey. You are more Chinese than American or Black anyway."
"Nonsense, I'm Black American and it will always be that way," Huey said, knowledgeable of the constant insults by other kids about how 'not-black' he was. However it was a misinterpretation on his part, she didn't mean it like that.
"I know thatâ€"and I love thatâ€"but understand, you speak Mandarin, you study Chinese fighting, you follow Confucianism-,"
"Hold it, I'm a Christian!" Huey stammered back at her, but Ming blew it off, "Bullshit! And it's a uh….Phi-lo-sophy, we both follow it whether you think you do or not! You black-Chinese!" Huey didn't know if he should be honored or offended to have his race re-labeled to fit another. 'Are black people unfit to her?'
"Do it for me Huey, please, train me to be like you," Ming said, clasping her hands with his and holding it closely to her chest. Despite his milk-chocolate colored skin, a noticeable reddening glowed under his dark pigmentation as he locked eyes with her. He couldn't figure her attitude out, was it obsession? Or a crush? Is she being weird?
"Don't think too much on this, but I care more about you than anyone else, and I did ever since you broke my shin," Ming whispered. Huey shuttered upon being reminded of that and he quickly jerked her hands away from her needy ones. Ming scratched her head and turned away from him, a little frustrated on his attitudes. 'Damn you Yankee Black boys!'
"Alright," His voice said. Ming quickly looked back over him, in need of clarification.
"…..All…right?" She asked.
"Alright, we'll play," Huey said, "I-I mean train, we're training!"
"Thank you Huey!" She cheered, legitimately happy for the first time in a while, 'This is only the start for us.'