9. An Old Dust Lady Comes To Visit

Backpack? Check.

Sword? Check.

Books? Check. Violin and case? Check.

Phone? No, mom didn't leave me one.

Passport? Check.

Wallet? Check.

Food? Check.

Extra clothes? Check.

I checked the items off of my mental 'what to bring' list as I looked through my backpack and considered. Suddenly, I stifled a strong desire to giggle. This whole trip to Long Island sounded so mystical, even fictional, and the fact that I was acting like a nervous tourist made me want to crack up.

Well, what else could I do when the mother I thought I had known all my life turned out to be a china statue, and cracked open right before my eyes? The last thing she told me to do was to go to Long Island and look for a pine tree with a dragon guarding it. It sounded totally wrong! I mean, dragons were not even supposed to exist. But I had seen so much strange stuff that I wasn't even bothered by it anymore. And if my mother had wanted me to find that place, I could only trust that she had a very good reason.

Even so, my heart weighed about a ton in my chest. I was still shaken. My mother. My mother. The one who would smile at me and make me feel as if all my worries are gone, and stay up all night to perfect everything. All my life, I had thought I knew her - why wouldn't I? She being my real mother - I had no trouble believing it. I looked just like her, with the same dark hair and smile, and competitive nature. Kids in school complained and speculated about being adopted, but I had never, even for a second, doubted that the lady who drove me to school each day was my real mother.

Now, it felt like the very foundations of the reality I knew was crumbling away beneath my feet. All those things, the seemingly solid facts that I had taken for granted started swirling in hazes of doubt and uncertainty.

My real mother was exiled somewhere and couldn't help me. My father was someplace far away and unknown.

I was alone.

There were times when, subconsciously, I forgot about what had happened. I would find myself heading down the stairs to a sword-fighting practice session with mom. I would have already put on my exercise shirt and pants, mindlessly wondering if I was going to learn any new moves that day. Then I would walk into the cold deserted basement. Everything would crash back, and I would have to cling onto the wall to steady myself from the rush of hollowness that swept through me, settling deep in my stomach. My mother was gone. I was by myself.

I was not used to being alone. The house seemed so much bigger, emptier and quieter without my mother. At night, I would curl up under the cold sheets, and could almost believe that there were ghosts lurking in the darkened shadows. I missed my old life back in China so much it physically hurt. The life that was normal and care-free, and the only thing I had to worry about was exams.

I missed my mother telling me to be careful at school camps and not do anything stupid. I missed the playful arguments with my grandmother back in China. I missed the scent of my mom's home made desserts. I missed Willow.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself not to lose control.

Then I made myself a promise. Wherever my real mother was, I would find her.

I took a deep breath, jerking myself back into the present. Now was not the time for self pity.

The day before, I had booked a Greyhound to Manhattan using my mother's credit card. The bus was going to leave at five o'clock this afternoon and arrive at noon in New York. Hopefully, if nothing went wrong.

I stepped out of the house into the warm early afternoon air. The light wind blew my hair back slowly, and I thought of the times my mom had gently pulled my unruly hair into a cute little ponytail when I was young. I dragged my suitcase behind me. It felt heavy, heavier than it was supposed to feel. I stepped back and stared at the house that I had called home for the last few months. I suddenly felt dizzy, as though this was all a surreal dream. My foot felt stuck, glued to the steps of the front porch. I tried to lift my leg, but I couldn't seem to move.

A lump formed in my throat, growing painfully. I cursed myself. I needed to keep in control. This was no time for a breakdown.

"Goodbye," I murmured. Then I tugged my foot loose and turned my back on the house.

I walked off, trying not to look back.

...

I took the CTA to the Greyhound Station. I squeezed myself against the railing, trying to look invisible. Still, many passengers who walked by gave me strange looks, like what's that girl doing there? Is she going to steal something? I guess I did look shady, a twelve year old Chinese girl with thick, unkempt black hair, carrying a multi colored violin case and a huge backpack, on her own in the station with no adult or friends beside her. A few people asked me if I was lost, but I shook my head firmly and walked forward, trying my utmost to look purposeful.

Well, at least no one had tried to ask me where my mother was...yet. I crossed my fingers, praying that they never would. How was I supposed to answer? My mother is a china statue, who just crumbled to nothing before my eyes. Huh, sure they'd believe me.

When I arrived at the station, the first thing I did was brush my hair with a comb. If my voyage got delayed because of security reasons, I will die of humiliation. I glanced at a reflective glass panel, and was taken aback by what I saw. Unlike the usual neatness I had before, I looked like one of those gangster kids off the streets.

I felt a twinge somewhere in my chest. What if the people who saw me thought I was a gangster? My chest twisted in a mixture of fear and pride. I was not a gangster. I was a good girl, with fantastic grades and a talent for music and painting. Then I scolded myself again. I shouldn't be so proud. I had just been kicked out of school, for heaven's sake. Besides, in my current situation, being judged was the last thing I should worry about.

After I was done with brushing my hair with my fingers and tying it into a somewhat neat bun secured by a pencil, I checked myself again. Yup, the old girl was back. At least, some part of her. Now all I had to do was convince the adults that I was responsible enough to travel by myself.

As the conductor asked us to board, I stayed close to a Chinese tourist family, pretending I was a part of their group. I stepped onto the bus, holding my breath. I'm one of them, I silently thought. Believe me, conductor glanced me over, then waved me through without asking any questions. A sigh of relief escaped me.

Now all I needed was some sort of disguise, to prevent suspicion. Even if I stayed close to that family, it wouldn't help if they acted like they didn't know me. I might even get accused of stalking. I weighed my options. I could try to strike up a conversation with someone. I scanned the bus. Some people were talking on their cell phones, others were tapping away furiously on their laptops. Those who weren't, were either sleeping, or gazing out the window. They didn't look like they wanted to talk to anyone. I bit my lip, trying to decide what to do.

Then I caught the eye of the mother of the Chinese family I had followed into the bus. They were trying to ask the conductor a question, but didn't look like they were having much luck. The conductor was frowning, and the father, who was talking, looked frustrated at the fact that the conductor couldn't understand what he was trying to say. An idea suddenly struck me, and I made my way over.

A few minutes later, I was sitting down next to the family. They smiled at me.

"I'm so glad we have such a nice translator!" The mother told me. I flashed a smile, trying to look like a mature, responsible role-model student, so they would not start questioning me. I guess I would just have to play the "perfect student" card again. Because once someone got suspicious of me and decided to drag me off to questioning, my whole trip would be jeopardized. I most certainly did not want to end up in a police station, trying to explain how my mother happened to be a china statue.

"It's no problem, Mrs. Wang!" I smiled, glad that I had brushed my hair into a bun. The family was really amiable, and I was grateful they didn't start asking questions when a strange girl asked to be their translator for the trip.

"Where are you going, Xinyue?" The father asked while sitting down behind me, "Where are your parents?"

I bit back a curse. Why was there always a cautions one in a family?

"My mother is asking me to run an errand for her in Manhattan." I replied, trying to keep my voice smooth. It was not the truth, but it was not a complete lie either. It had the ring of truth in it, and it was something believable. I prayed that they would buy it.

"All by yourself, Xinyue jiejie*?" The little boy asked, bewildered.

"Yes, but I'm going to meet my father soon." Also not a complete lie right? According to my grandmother, I would meet my father before my 13th birthday, which was in a month.

"Good, we were worried about you." The mother said, smiling sweetly. I grinned. I could not have hoped for a friendlier family at a time like this. Perhaps the goddess of fortune didn't hate me so much after all.

"Thank you, but I'll be all right."

For the rest of the eighteen hours of the bus, I slept. If I was going to go to a place I had never been before, the least I could do was catch up on sleep. Sometimes, the family would talk to me, but most of the time, they slept too. Being with them made me homesick. I could almost smell the streets of China from them, and the way they talked to each other reminded of the family I had there, before the flight to America, before everything spun out of the ordinary.

But I pushed the thoughts out of my mind. They were too depressing.

…

When we finally arrived in New York, everyone was tired. The darkness of the gloomy station didn't help whatsoever. I found myself tightening my grip on the handle of my suitcase and breathing deeply to steady myself. I hated dark places. I despised the way shadows seemed alive, creeping out of nowhere to try to grab me. The thought of it made me shudder. Besides, darkness reminded me of spiders, and those creepy crawling bugs lived everywhere. I was also claustrophobic. I couldn't stand how thousands of tons of rock were enclosing me within them from all sides, ready to crush me and imprison me in a dungeon of suffocation.

In other words, I wanted to be anywhere but the underground right now.

I clambered out, dragging my suitcase awkwardly behind me. People jostled by me as they past. I walked as briskly as I could, more than eager to get out of this dank underground place. My feet moved almost by themselves; my legs automatically stepping forward as my mind wandered.

Loneliness swept through me. I missed my mother so much it hurt. The place seemed so cold and grey, so depressing without the company of people who cared about me. I felt like a ghost, steadily drifting through the colorless, metallic place, expressionless and alone. I wondered what my grandmother was doing. I wondered what that neighboring family with the adorable little girl with pigtails was doing now. I wondered if my father was thinking about me.

A wistful smile flickered across my lips.

And then I heard it.

The voice.

So you came, little heroine... A creepy whisper blossomed from the darkness. It sounded raspy and ancient, yet almost lazy, as though the speaker was half asleep. It curled through the air, snaking through the ground and reverberating up my spine. A strong shiver rippled through me. The voice sounded so close.

I looked around wildly. Everyone else was just walking normally, as though they had not heard it. Perhaps I was just hearing things? Perhaps the stress and loneliness of the past week had finally gotten to me?

Now it's time to give up.

There it was again. It didn't seem to come from any particular direction. It seemed to radiate from the very ground itself, from the layers of rock all around me. It spoke right into my head, like wisps of smoke coiling and snaking its way round and round my skull, echoing up and down my spine.

"Wh - who are you? Come out!" My voice shook as I shouted to no one in particular. Many tourists shot me strange looks. They must think I was losing my mind.

Then the dirt on the wall before me seemed to all gather, swirling and whirling together. I backed away, a scream choked in my throat. The dust had formed the image of the face of an old lady. Her eyelids were half closed, as though she was sleeping. Her lips curled in a sleepy smile, as though she was enjoying a pleasant dream.

Your mother failed. Give up, now…

Give up what? What about my mother?

You are in no place to interfere with my son's war. Now it is time to sleep… but when I wake, I'll make sure you will be a great little pawn.

My mind churned in a sea of chaotic fear. I had never before felt this terrified. Not when my teacher had turned into that Fury and attacked me. Not when I had been chased by the poison-spitting hydra. Not even when my own mother literally cracked apart. This voice sounded primordial and ancient, born from the beginning of time.

I tried to think. What did this all mean? She mentioned a war – could it be…?

But before I could come up with anything, my vision went black.

*jiejie means older sister in Chinese, its used by children to show respect to older children.

"A New World" non-officially ends here!

Special thanks to everyone that managed to make it through this story! And especially my beta reader Ivy, she is amazing! Also all the reviewers!

I will write a sequel to this, ending exactly where The Last Olympian ended, and hopefully my writing skills will get better. I don't know what I'll call it yet, but please read it!

Oh and its still not too late to review! I would love it if you wonderful readers tell me what you think!