The hallways of Lincoln High School filled up with students, both newcomers and those who’ve returned for whatever reason, and it became a cacophony of young voices echoing off the walls just as quickly. As the first day of the new school year, I wanted to make things for myself pop, stand out, make a statement, start turning heads, or however you’d say it. I was sixteen, after all. It was about time I’d try something different.
So about a few days ago, I started dyeing streaks of neon pink into my dark black hair alongside the electric blue streaks that were already there. I figured with two more years of high school, that should be plenty of time for someone to notice it, acknowledge it, and hopefully give a simply compliment. (And by someone, I didn’t just mean my best friend Tori whom I’d already learned was going to be in almost every class as me again this year.)
I walked through the crowds of students, from freshmen to seniors, with the paper listings of where to find all of my assigned classrooms and their respective teachers in one hand and my other hand firmly gripping the strap on my army green backpack. I was taking short glances up and down from the sheet of listings in my hand to the halls ahead of me so as not to bump hard into anyone. Eventually, I found my homeroom on the second floor of the west wing, which also turned out to be my history classroom, and I silently praised God to myself.
Practically confidently strutting into the room, I took it all in as I also looked for a perfect seat. Then I noticed how the few classmates that were already here were sort of bunched in odd groups. The populars mixing with the regulars, and nobody spoke to their closest seat neighbors. That was when I saw each desk had a strip of white paper laminated to the top right corner from when you’d sit down, which could only mean one thing, and it was the one thing I hated most about school because of the lack of free choice.
Assigned seating.
Heaving a huge sigh that no one else seemed to acknowledge (or they did and just chose to ignore it altogether), I skimmed along the rows of desks, scanning my eyes along every nametag. I found mine in the second to last column towards the windows along the right end of the room but also in the second row up front. Without thinking about it, I looked over at the desk belonging to whichever lucky student got the window seat next to me.
L. Huang
I had never seen or heard of that name in my grade before.
Shrugging it off, I sat down at my little assigned space for the year, pulled out some notebooks and my own personal textbook about archeology from my bag, and began studying it until the bell rang just several minutes later. During this time, I hadn’t even realized how full the classroom had gotten, and that was before the teacher walked in along with the usual tardy students.
The teacher walked up to the front of the class where the blackboard was (but her desk was at the back of the room for some reason) and introduced herself as Mrs. Johnson. She was a white middle-aged woman with caramel brown hair pulled into a tightly knit bun in the back of her head. A few students were still chatting amongst themselves as she spoke, but once she cleared her throat loud enough for everyone down the hall to hear, they shut their mouths immediately and paid attention.
“That’s better. Now, as I was saying, I will be your homeroom teacher this year as well as teaching history for the eleventh grade,” she said it like she’d just lost lottery after coming so close, “So, to start off the year, I was thinking we’d get to know a little bit about each other during our homeroom period. And since we’ll only have about ten minutes before the next bell, please stand up and introduce yourselves and share one short fact about yourself when I call your name. I’ll go first: my name is Mrs. Johnson, and I’ve been teaching for almost a decade now, but this is only my second year doing it with high schoolers, so I expect a higher level of discipline and maturity from all of you.”
While some of the students behind me snickered at how they must’ve taken the phrase “doing it with high schoolers” in a more inappropriate direction, my first impression was how long her introduction was considering that she was the one to make it small.
“Alright, we’re going to go in alphabetical order here, let’s see,” she continued as she pulled out a sheet of paper from her clipboard, which I assumed was the daily attendance sheet. She also had a ballpoint metallic silver pen chained to the clipboard in her hand, and she tapped it vigorously looking for the first name on the list, which took a few moments.
How hard is it really to find the top of a list?
The first name was a girl named Caitlyn Baker who said she was captain of the cheerleading squad. Next was Henry Davis, and he said something about drawing cartoons? I didn’t really pay attention to that one.
“Minh San Duong,” Mrs. Johnson said rather questioningly, “Did I say that right?”
Of course the third on is me. I stood up slowly, kind of wanting the other students to drink in my presence, and I was still thinking of what fact about myself to share. I had no time left, so I blurted out, “I’m Minh San Duong, and I want to be an archeologist.”
There. I said it. Announcing my dreams and aspirations to total strangers was better than telling it to my own family first, right?
After I sat back down, a few more students were called upon before Mrs. Johnson finally said the one name I’d never heard of.
“Li Huang?” There was silence. Everyone looked around the room awaiting a response that didn’t come. The teacher adjusted her glasses with a sigh of disappointment as though she was dreading this would happen. “Is Li Huang here?” she asked again. Still, the silence remained.
“He’s not here. Move on,” I heard a boy student whisper angrily from the back row as he was growing impatient. Lucky for him, the teacher didn’t notice.
Out of curiosity, I guess, I glanced back at the empty seat next to me where this Li Huang should be. It didn’t last long, though, as the introductions carried on till the last name was called and then the bell rang right after. As everyone else gathered their books and bags and scrambled out of the classroom to scurry to their next classes, I ended up being the last student in the room. Just as my luck would have it, I was halfway to the door when I heard Mrs. Johnson’s voice call me again.
“Oh, Ms. Duong? Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Damn it. I just knew I was going to be late now. Based on her own introduction, I bet that a minute for Mrs. Johnson was actually at least five in real time.
Reluctantly, I paused my movements before turning to her and saying, “I actually prefer to be called Minnie.”
Mrs. Johnson grinned warmly. “That’s pretty. Okay, Minnie. I know this is out of the blue, but I’d like to ask you a favor.” She wasted no time in getting down to business, “It’s about the one student that was absent today. Li Huang? He’s…a problematic one. I don’t know the whole story, but apparently he lost his father about a year and a half ago, and that’s when he started getting into fights with other students. He’d get suspended, but even though that part stopped, it got to the point where he’s barely been attending school ever since. Sometimes he shows up after lunch but leaves an hour afterward. Most of the time he disappears to God only knows where and he avoids anyone who tries to reason with him. I’ve heard most of the teachers here have already given up on him, but I believe there’s still hope. That’s where you come in.”
This Li Huang sounded mysterious and, quite frankly, rather dangerous to me. I highly doubt my family would want me hanging around with him, which is what I probably would have and should have said right off the bat. I could have declined this request easily. Instead, I said rather brutally, “Sounds like you should be asking someone more qualified than me for such a risky task.” I’d learned that school was one of the only places that I could act like a real teenager and not have to abide by the strict rules and traditions my family had set for me.
“Don’t worry, as far as I know, Li hasn’t been getting into any more trouble with the authorities,” Mrs. Johnson said, and I thought Gee, that’s certainly reassuring. She continued, “Plus, I can make it very worth your while.”
I lifted one eyebrow. “How so?”
“You said you want to go into archeology, right? Well, as it so happens, my cousin Roderick on my father’s side is in that career field and even got his master’s degree at Harvard University. If you can get Li to come back to school, I’ll get him to write you a recommendation letter and put in a good word for you for whichever college you decide on.”
My eyes grew wide and my mouth hung open. An opportunity like this was too good to pass up, I know, but at the same time, I worried about how my father would react to it. For my whole life, my family and I lived in an apartment above my father’s own glass-blowing shop that he intended for me to inherit once I was old enough. It would be his retirement, his dream passed onto me, especially since he’d been burnt one too many times and the scars still showed. I didn’t want him to get hurt anymore when he’d be elderly and decrepit, like it was my obligation. Little did any of my family members know I didn’t want to stay forever. I had my own dreams, too, and right now, this was my chance to make it happen. I’d tell them about it later, right?
A moment past as I contemplated it in my head before I finally said, “I’ll do it!”
Mrs. Johnson beamed a smile at me. “Great! Then come with me for a sec,” she beckoned me to follow her to her desk in the back of the classroom. I did, and after rummaging through the paper stacks on her desk for a while, she scribbled something onto a yellow square sticky note and paperclipped it to a small stack of papers before handing them to me and said, “I wrote down his home address here, and this is his homework for tonight. I hope to hear good news from you, and I look forward to seeing Li’s face in school again!”
That was when the bell rang for the start of next period. I told her I’d update her on the progress as soon as I made some and rushed out of the room sprinting down the halls.
At lunch hour, I finally got to see Tori for the first time in almost a week. I’d heard she had to attend a funeral for a family member out of state, but she planned to be back in time for school. As soon as our eyes met, she ran over to me, gave me a squeezing hug that lasted two minutes, and was the only one that day to compliment my new neon pink streaks. Then we sat together on the end of a table closest to the windows in the cafeteria that stretched from the floor to the ceiling and looked out onto the courtyard at the center of the building.
Truth be told, Toru knew about my aspirations to go into archeology before anyone else, so it didn’t come as a surprise to her when I told her about Mrs. Johnson’s side of our exchanged request. In fact, she seemed proud of me as those tears welled up in her eyes and she covered her mouth with her hands to hide her quivering lower lip. “Oh my God, I don’t believe it! My precious best friend is finally stepping out of her shell,” she said.
“I just hope it’ll be that easy,” I said before changing the topic, “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about Li Huang, do you?” At this point, I’ll take any useful information I can get.
“Hmmm…” Tori pondered for a moment while chewing on her sandwich. “I think he was the guy who beat up the quarterback of the football team that one time?”
I dropped my fork. “What?”
“Yeah, like, right after his father died. Apparently it was a murder case that went cold quickly, and that this Cody Bryant guy, who I think graduated already, made a joke about it like the very next day. It made Leon so mad that he just started wailing on him so hard that the cops had to come break it up. At the time, I thought that part’s just an exaggeration, but now, hell!” She said in between taking a potato chip out of its baggy.
Wait, I was confused. “Who’s Leon?”
“That’s his nickname, I heard. Or at least, that’s what everyone else around here calls him,” she then looked in all directions before leaning in and whispered to me, “I also heard he’s been involved in a few gangs around Chinatown ever since he started cutting classes. Rumor has it that his dad was killed by a gang member, so he spends his time looking for clues.”
Okay, now I really knew what I was in for, and I knew my parents would want me to have no part in it.
“He’s got quite the reputation, then.”
“Why are you asking about him, though? Have you actually seen him or, like, met with him?” Tori gasped. “Did he do something bad to you?”
“No, no, I’ve never met him. But I am going to, kind of,” I then explained my end of the bargain I made with Mrs. Johnson, and Tori stood up from her seat and let out a shriek so loud it made more than half of the kids in the cafeteria stop what they were doing and look in our direction. It only lasted a few seconds, and then everyone else went back to chatting, eating, and teasing with each other, but Tori stared at me, and I could tell she weas dumbstruck.
She sat down again and whispered with concern in her tone, “Does Mrs. Johnson have a death wish out for you or something?!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I whispered back.
“If anything, you must’ve done something for you to land on her blacklist,” Tori kept exaggerating as though this was a matter of life and death.
“Tori! What are you talking about?” I demanded to know what her deal was.
“I’m just saying: Leon’s kind of dangerous, and he…” Tori hesitated like she was dreading what she was about to say, and then I found out why. “…He may or may not have tried to kill someone,” she whispered in my ear.
I felt a lump form in my throat that I couldn’t swallow as she continued with gruesome detail, “It was last year, around Christmas time. Police reportedly found a half-dead gang member in an alley with like six bullet wounds in his stomach. He survived, but was left badly scarred, and they’ve never been able to catch whoever’s responsible. But people say it was Leon, and that he somehow managed to get a gun and shot the guy he thought killed his father. It’s never been proven, but almost everyone believes it.”
A chill ran down my spine and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
“If this kid’s so dangerous, why does Mrs. Johnson believe there’s still hope for him, then?” I said aloud unintentionally.
“Benefit of the doubt, maybe? I mean, these are just rumors,” Tori shrugged but seemed unsure of herself as much as I was of myself. “Look, I don’t want to force it, but I think you should reconsider this deal you made with your teacher.”
I could get hurt. That was my first thought after she said that. But rumors are hardly ever true. I was never one to believe in speculations. Besides, I highly doubt a schoolteacher would send her student on such a perilous quest, and the reward was too good to give up on. Was I going to walk back to Mrs. Johnson with my tail between my legs, hand back Leon’s homework, and tell her to find someone with a death wish to try and fulfill her request? I didn’t know all the facts, but I also didn’t see any reason to give up on someone I’d never even met. Life was about taking risks, right?
“You’re serious about doing it, aren’t you?” Tori suddenly said. It must have been the look on my face that tipped her off because I could feel myself scrunching my face muscles and pursing my lips since that was what I did when I was thinking hard about something. “Aren’t you?!” she grabbed my shoulders and shook me, demanding an answer out of me.
“Okay, yes, just…please don’t tell anyone about it. Especially my parents? Please?” I begged, about to get on my knees on the hardest tile cafeteria floor in the world.
“Ugh! Fine, fine, I won’t tell a soul if you promise me one thing,” she glared at me, letting go of my shoulders and her hands then held up mine like we were about to kiss. I heard some kids sitting next to us whisper and snicker as they looked at what we were doing. I felt their eyes glued to the back of my head and at our hands. I thought, Great, now there’s going to be a new rumor going around school.
“You don’t go anywhere near Leon without me,” Tori made her one condition clear, despite the danger it was putting us both in. “You know my dad’s friend Roger is a police officer in the next town over? I can ask him to keep tabs on us when we go out to find Leon. Think of it as a bit of extra security. I won’t tell my parents or anyone about this either, just Roger, okay?”
I could tell she was scared. Her hands trembled as she held mine, and it was shaking my arm noticeably. Lowering my arms which in turn also lowered our hands below the table, I nodded and agreed to her terms. When lunch period was over, we walked together to science class.
I was startled, sure, but this was the year for change I decided.
After the last bell of the day rang, Tori and I immediately met up at the stairs at the school’s front entrance and began our descent into what could be a nightmare. That was what I thought Tori was thinking, at least, judging by her worried face and fidgeting hands.
Apparently, Leon’s home was in the heart of Chinatown. Neither of us had ever been there, despite our respective Asian heritages. Tori was Japanese American, and I Vietnamese American. As soon as we got to the outskirts of the district, I felt a deep pit sitting in my gut.
Multiple pairs of eyes from people we’d never even met stared at us as we walked by. Most of these eyes belonged to men who looked older than me and Tori, like in their twenties or thirties but no older than forties. They watched us intently, our every move judged with either a creepy smirk, a head shaking as to say “no”, or even a switchblade knife twirling around in his hand as if that was like a fun trick.
Intimidating us, they wanted us to know what they were thinking. They knew we didn’t belong here.
It seemed like we were already in the wrong side of town, and I shouldn’t be here unless I was expecting my parents to show up somehow, drag me home, scold me for this recklessness, and punish me in the worst way they could think of. But I tried not to dwell on it. Instead, I kept my head held high, my eyes darting glances at the corners to ensure we were only watched and not followed.
Tori soon grabbed my hand and started rubbing her thumb against the back of my hand. She used to do that only when she got super terrified as a little kid. I let it happen, and she was winging her head back more times than I could count, glancing over her shoulder at almost every step she took.
Before we knew it, we reached an intersection with the street signs reading in Chinese. My parents never let me learn how to read or write in any other languages than English and Vietnamese, and Tori claimed she only knew a few simple Mandarin characters. We realized neither of us knew where to go.
Just as Tori was about to chicken out and claimed we should turn back now, we both heard beeping and cha-ching noises like the ones you’d hear at an arcade coming from the building next to us on our right. The sliding doors had just opened and out stepped a tall, kind of attractive looking Chinese boy around my age with dark brown hair slicked up and over to one side of his head. He was looking down at his smartphone in his hand, but then he looked up once he sensed us blocking his path, and as soon as our eyes met, he froze.
A moment of silence past between us until I noticed the bold white letter patches spelling out his name (or rather his nickname) in English over the left breast of his satin red and white softball jacket:
L. E. O. N.
ns216.73.216.141da2
and then Add to home screen.