No Second Summer in Fengli

On September 1, 2005, Fengli Middle School started the new school year.

The leaves drooped on the two rows of mango trees by the school gate, and the cicadas made an irritating racket. Class 2 of Grade 7 was in an uproar, the desks crookedly arranged, and "Welcome, new students" was scrawled on the blackboard in chalk.

Yang Xiaodong sat by the window in the third row from the back, head down as he doodled little figures on his textbook cover with a ballpoint pen. His mom had bought him a new schoolbag the night before, with two packs of Daliyuan egg-yolk pies tucked inside for snacks between classes. He was short, with slightly dark skin, and when he smiled, his somewhat crooked teeth showed.

Their homeroom teacher, Mr. Wu, was in his forties and wore gold-rimmed glasses and a short-sleeved shirt washed nearly white. He walked in with a stack of papers tucked under his arm, and the classroom instantly quieted halfway.

"Quiet down, quiet down. Find your seats and sit down."

Mr. Wu slapped the papers onto the podium, sending chalk dust into the air. The girls in the first two rows frowned and waved it away.

"I'm Wu Guodong, your homeroom teacher. I teach math. We'll start with roll call. When you hear your name, stand up so everyone can get to know you."

"Chen Zhiqiang."

"Here!"

"Li Weimin."

"Here!"

Yang Xiaodong wasn't paying much attention. It was the same routine every year. His gaze wandered around the classroom. He knew it well, since he'd been here for summer classes. A patch of plaster had fallen off the wall, two yellow water stains marked the ceiling, and one pane of window glass had a crack held together with clear tape.

"Wang Yanni."

A girl stood up from the second row.

Yang Xiaodong's pen paused.

Wang Yanni wore her hair in a ponytail, tied with a pale blue scrunchie. As she stood, the early September sunshine slanted in through the window and fell across her profile. A tiny mole marked her earlobe, and her neck was very fair. She wore a plain white T-shirt and jeans, but they were clean and neat, and she had a pleasant air about her. Her voice was soft as she said, "Here," then she quickly sat down.

Mr. Wu continued calling names, but Yang Xiaodong didn't hear a single one.

His heart was pounding. It was a feeling he'd never had before, as if something were bumping around inside his chest, making him feel a little panicked.

It was something he couldn't quite explain. Before now, his life had consisted of a Subor game console, Dragon Ball comics, and kicking empty cans around a lot behind the school with boys from the neighboring class after school. To him, girls were troublesome creatures who loved tattling, cried at the drop of a hat, and always argued about whose turn it was to jump rope.

But now, everything was different.

After Wang Yanni sat down, she turned to whisper to the girl beside her, the corners of her mouth lifting into a small smile. Yang Xiaodong stared at her profile, lost in thought for a long time. The little figure he'd been drawing on his textbook ended up crooked, with one arm stretched into an absurdly long line, and he didn't even notice.

The boy sitting beside him was called Huang Wenbin. They'd been classmates in elementary school and got along well. Huang Wenbin nudged him with his elbow. "What's with you? The teacher's looking at you."

"Huh?"

"Roll call. Yang Xiaodong, that's you."

Yang Xiaodong sprang to his feet, shoving his chair back with a shrill scrape.

"Here!"

He'd shouted so loudly that the whole class laughed.

Mr. Wu glanced at him over his glasses, said nothing, and continued down the list.

Yang Xiaodong sat down, face burning, his heart beating even faster. He didn't dare look up, afraid people would laugh at him or notice how embarrassed he was. Most of all, he was afraid that... He glanced toward the second row without thinking. Wang Yanni hadn't even turned around. She was looking down at her textbook, her ponytail resting on her shoulder, its ends curling slightly.

After school that afternoon, Yang Xiaodong wheeled his bicycle out of the school gate. He didn't race Huang Wenbin to see who could get to the big banyan tree first, like he usually did.

Huang Wenbin straddled his bike and called out, "You coming or not?"

"Go ahead. My chain came off."

Huang Wenbin looked at his bike. "It didn't."

"...Just go."

Huang Wenbin left, looking confused.

Yang Xiaodong pushed his bike slowly out of the school gate. Beneath the mango trees, he spotted her at once.

Wang Yanni was standing by a utility pole outside the gate, apparently waiting for someone. Her schoolbag hung off one shoulder, and she held a five-fen bag of Mimi shrimp chips, nibbling at them a little at a time. Her ponytail swayed gently in the breeze.

Yang Xiaodong stopped beneath a mango tree and pretended to fiddle with his bike lock.

His fingers kept moving the latch back and forth. He'd been at it for about three minutes, and even he thought it was getting too obvious. He sneaked a glance at her, wondering who she was waiting for.

He didn't have to wonder for long.

The roar of a motorcycle engine came from the street corner, loud and muffled, as if its exhaust pipe had been deliberately modified. A black cruiser motorcycle turned out of the alley, with two people on it.

The rider looked four or five years older than them. His hair was a little long, with a lock dyed yellow. He wore a floral shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, showing a tattoo that was hard to make out, maybe a dragon or something. The boy sitting on the back was about the same age as the rider. He had a cigarette between his fingers and wore his school uniform open over a black T-shirt printed with English letters. His feet were in a pair of white Warrior sneakers, quite fashionable by Fengli standards at the time.

The motorcycle stopped in front of Wang Yanni.

The boy on the back hopped off, tossed his cigarette to the ground, stamped it out, and smiled at Wang Yanni.

"Have you been waiting long?"

"Not long." Wang Yanni held out her bag of shrimp chips. "Want some?"

"No. Let's go."

The boy casually took her schoolbag and slung it over his own shoulder. Wang Yanni wasn't especially short, but she only came up to his chin. She tilted her head to say something to him and smiled. It was a smile Yang Xiaodong had never seen in the classroom: her eyes curved, and her whole face lit up.

The motorcycle roared away again. Wang Yanni sat on the back, one hand around the boy's waist, her ponytail blown back by the wind as they vanished around the corner.

Yang Xiaodong stood there, watching the blue smoke from the motorcycle's exhaust slowly disperse.

He knew that boy.

Zhang Hanqin, from Class 3 of Grade 9.

Everyone at Fengli Middle School knew him. He was the kind of kid every school had: terrible grades, great at basketball, and good-looking, too. His family apparently ran a motorcycle repair shop in town, and he knew how to ride himself. Every day, he'd rev his engine as he came and went through the school gate, while the teachers turned a blind eye. A few friends from outside school were always around him. One of them rode a black cruiser motorcycle and was called Chen Huaxi. He was a few years older and no longer a student, but he often showed up by the school gate.

Yang Xiaodong lowered his head, kicked the bike stand, climbed on, and pedaled a couple of times before the engine caught. Then he rode off.

The ride home from Fengli Middle School took him along an old street, lined with stalls selling groceries and vegetables. The ground was always damp, and the air smelled of fish and fried dough sticks. Yang Xiaodong rode through the street with Jay Chou's "Qilixiang" playing in his headphones. He'd spent his pocket money on a bootleg cassette and listened to it over and over all summer on his dad's old Walkman.

"The sparrows outside the window chatter on the telephone pole."

He didn't sing along like he usually did.

When he got home, his mom was cooking in the kitchen, and his dad hadn't come back from work yet. Yang Xiaodong tossed his schoolbag onto the bed and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. A Dragon Ball poster hung there, showing Sun Wukong raising a Spirit Bomb. Beside it was a crooked dog he'd drawn in crayon when he was little.

He rolled over and covered his face with a pillow.

The pillow smelled of laundry detergent, the new Diaopai detergent his mom had switched to.

It was hot in September. The fan squeaked as it turned, and beneath his pillow, Yang Xiaodong lay with his eyes open, thinking only of Wang Yanni beneath the mango tree. She held a bag of Mimi shrimp chips, her ponytail swaying in the breeze. When she smiled at Zhang Hanqin, her eyes curved like crescents.

He thought about it for a long time, then finally understood something.

He liked Wang Yanni.

It was the first time in his thirteen years that he'd truly liked a girl. He didn't know what to do or whom to tell. He didn't know when the tightness in his chest and restless unease would go away.

He didn't even know that liking someone could hurt.

The cicadas outside were deafening. His mom called him to dinner three times from the kitchen.

Yang Xiaodong didn't answer.

Theme: Love in the class of 2005