Chapter 3
I held the phone and didn't say anything.
The man on the other end asked again, "Are your parents home?"
"They went abroad," I answered.
"And who are you?"
"I'm his daughter."
There was a short pause.
"The contract says the house has to be handed over in three days," he told me. "Have your dad get in touch with me."
Then the line went dead.
I turned to Grace. "This isn't my home anymore, is it?"
Grace picked up the keys and went to the Services Office.
The staff at the Services Office checked the documents and confirmed the old house was already signed over.
Dad got the full payment two weeks before they left.
Mom only left me the keys because the buyer hadn't moved in yet.
They knew I'd be kicked out in three days. But they still left.
Grace tried calling Dad.
The first time, no one picked up.
The second time, they hung up right away.
On the third try, Mom picked up. "We're in the middle of a layover. Whatever it is, we'll talk about it later."
Grace put the call on speaker. "You sold both houses. Where is Helen supposed to live now?"
"Isn't she at your place?" Mom shot back, not missing a beat. "She's always over at your place anyway. Keep an eye on her for a bit."
Grace's hands were shaking with anger. "How long is 'a bit' supposed to be?"
"We'll come back once Emily finishes her studies."
"Did you leave any money for Helen?"
There was silence on the other end.
Dad took the phone. "Helen barely eats anything. She gets lunch at school, and for dinner, throw together some pasta for her."
Grace bit back her anger. "What about the money?"
Dad's voice turned cold. "This is our own business. If you want to help, fine. If not, dump her at a welfare home."
I stood by the table, my fingers curling tighter and tighter.
Grace was about to say something, but I grabbed the phone from her. "Dad."
"What else do you want?" he snapped.
"Do you really not want me anymore?"
"Don't waste your breath. Emily can't be late for her registration. We'll call you once we've arrived."
I could hear the airport announcements blaring, and Emily was rushing Mom along. "Mom, hurry up. We're boarding."
I asked one last time, "When are you going to call me?"
Dad didn't answer.
The call ended abruptly.
I tried calling back, but the phone was already switched off.
*****
Three days later, the buyer showed up.
He didn't give me a hard time and gave me two days to get my stuff together.
Truth was, I didn't really have much to pack.
All my clothes fit in a single backpack.
I packed my books into a cardboard box.
I peeled the three certificates off the wall, their backs tacky with old, yellowed glue.
Grace let me stay at her place.
Her husband was always on the road for work, and her son was away at school, so there was an empty bed at home.
She bought me a new toothbrush and a pair of slippers.
That night, I took out all my pocket money. It came to 108 dollars.
"Grace, I can't stay here for free," I said. "Put the money away for now. I can cook, sweep, and do laundry. I won't be any trouble."
Grace looked at me, then turned away to wipe her eyes. "You're only ten."
"I can work," I insisted.
From that day on, I got up at five-thirty every morning.
I made soup, collected the laundry, and after school, I'd head to the market to gather the vegetable scraps the stall owners didn't want.
Grace didn't want me doing that.
So I started helping out at a small restaurant, wiping down tables.
The owner gave me 3 dollars a day and let me eat dinner there.
When Scarlett found out, she brought me back to school.
She applied for financial aid and free lunch for me.
She also left a set of old math Olympiad books on my desk. "You're not dumb. You never had anyone willing to wait for you."
I opened the first book.
The questions were really hard.
I spent the whole night on them and only managed to figure out two.
The next day, Scarlett gave me two red checkmarks. "You got the methods right. "Helen, you're not numb. If you are given enough time, you will always manage to get it done."
For the first time, I didn't hide my report card.
By the end of the semester, I climbed from twenty-seventh place all the way up to sixth in my class.
A year later, I ranked first in my entire grade.
The school put my picture up on the wall of fame.
I spent the whole afternoon standing in front of that photo, hoping my parents would call. But they never did.
Emily sent me a postcard from abroad.
In the photo, she was wearing a formal dress, standing next to a white piano.
On the back, there was one line. [Helen, Mom says you're used to living on your own now, so stop constantly calling and disturbing us.]
I tucked the postcard into my math Olympiad book.
Over the next four years, they only called me twice.
The first time, Mom asked me to find the competition certificate Emily had left back at the old house.
I told her you'd already sold the old house.
She yelled at me for not being able to hold onto something so basic.
The second time, Dad asked about my grades.
I told him I was first in my grade.
He paused for a moment, then said, "Your school's nothing special."
When I was fifteen, I took part in the city-wide high school competition.
Scarlett was in the audience, crying.
Grace held up her camera, her hands trembling.
For the first time, holding that first-place certificate, my parents didn't cross my mind.
After the ceremony, a professor from the medical school approached me.
He handed me an application form for the Young Scholars Medical Program. "You'll need a guardian's signature to apply."
I looked down at the empty signature line, feeling a familiar ache in my chest.
That night, I dialed the number that hadn't reached out to me in four years.
When Mom picked up, she didn't ask how I was doing. "Actually, it works out. Emily's got a problem. We need you to get tested for compatibility."