A Lotus for Lizzy Lin

By Kathy Nieber-Lathrop

Twelve-year-old Lizzy is a reluctant participant in a post-adoption trip to China. She's a last-minute addition to the Red Ribbon group and struggles with a required letter to her biological mother. "I don't want to write to someone who just left me on a railroad bench whe

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pen It Publications
• Release date: Aug 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9781639844289

Book preview

Acknowledgements

My very talented daughter, Maia, designed this cover of Book Two in the Mad City Kids Series. Thank you.

I couldn’t have finished fine tuning this novel without the continual weekly support of my critique group: Robin, Thor, Sandra, Susan, and Emily.

My mom, who died before publication, was by biggest cheerleader.

Richard, my soulmate, is my final proofreader. He said he cried at the end of the book.

To Richard C. heart Dad to our daughters.

Chapter One

I jab a forkful of rice in the direction of my sorta sister to make a point – for the third time tonight at China Wok, enjoying our last meal before I travel to our birth country on a post adoption trip.

Zoe, you know I’m not real crazy about going on this trip? In fact, I pee my pants every time I think about the 1.3 billion Chinese people rejecting me. I mean, I’ll go and everything, but I’d just as soon play soccer this summer.

My usual cool mom sternly informed me this spring, after Zoe couldn’t go on the trip, that I had to take her place – to connect with my birth country’s people and culture. It had been twelve years since I was left at a railroad station in Hunan Province with my umbilical cord still attached. Why would I want to bond with anyone there?

Lizzy. I. Know. Zoe throws her chopsticks onto their white porcelain holder and flops her head against our regular booth back – miles away from our moms so they can’t hear us. You’ve told me about a hundred times.

Okay, maybe I did tell her once or twice at our monthly Girls’ Night Out with our moms. It’s been three months since we found out her mom was pregnant. And because of complications, she can’t go on the trip of her lifetime. Even though we made up after our months-long fight over the Red Scarf dancers, Zoe is madder and sadder than I’ve ever seen her. Plus, tonight she doesn’t eat her garlic green beans.

BTW, the smell is nastier now that they’re cold and congealed in butter.

I have to think of a way to help my sorta sister out of her pity party.

Got it.

Hey, maybe we can trade places. I’ll stay in Madison with your mom and dad, and you can go on the Red Ribbon tour. With my mom. She’s been crazy excited about it ever since …

Since… Zoe sneers and pushes her wire rims up her tiny nose that looks just like mine. "…since she gave your mom our spots. Our airplane reservations. Our hotel reservation. Our---"

"Well, I can’t help it that your mom got pregnant. And offered the trip to Mom. Jeez, they’ve been best friends since college, and your mother knew how much my mother wanted to go. I shove my plate of Moo Chu pork away. But she couldn’t afford the trip."

Zoe’s face morphs from my sorta sister to an unrecognizable angry bird. This was supposed to be my trip. My dream trip. And…

I tear my napkin into tiny pieces. Great. There she goes, getting mad at me. Again. Last spring, when I dropped out of the Red Scarf dance class, she got so bent out of shape, she called me that mean name, banana – yellow on the outside, white inside.

My napkin is now confetti. Zoe’s is a tissue.

Lizzy? Aren’t you listening? She tucks her long black hair behind her ears for the hundredth time. I wear mine short, so it stays out of my eyes when I play soccer. I said that I don’t want to fight with you. Changing the subject. where’s your letter?

I’m so happy she quit arguing that I space out her question. Huh? What letter?

She growls. Darn it, Lizzy! You told me on the phone it was done, and you’d bring it to supper tonight.

Oh, that letter. I yank it out of my backpack and try to smooth out the crumpled-up notepaper with a ton of cross outs. She grabs for it, but I glare at her until she pulls her hand back. No. I’ll read it to you.

Dear Bio Mom, Nope. Hey there, Nope. Hi Person I don’t know, Maybe.

Okay, so why did you leave me on a bench at the railroad station in Chenzhou? Jeez, the umbilical cord was still attached. You should see the weird belly button I have now because someone must’ve twisted it off crooked.

If you get this letter, I hope you’ll feel bad that you gave me up -- just because I’m a girl.

I’m having a great life with my heart mom.

Your ex-daughter, Lizzy

p.s.

I know I have a biological father, but I bet you’re the one who abandoned me.

You’re kidding, right? Zoe springs out of the fake-leather booth, and with her right hand on her hip, shakes her left index finger at me. Lizzy Lin, how could you write such a horrible, ungrateful letter? Show some respect for this woman who gave you life.

Urgh. I crumple up my assignment from the Red Ribbon advisors.

There she goes again, using my middle name and being all adult-like. She never acts like a twelve-year-old kid should. I don’t want to fight, so I take a deep breath and shrug off her hissy fit. I guess that’s a no on this letter. For real, it’s the best of the dozen I wrote.

Oh, you’re impossible to reason with. Can’t you just follow the Red Ribbon tour leaders’ instructions to write a genuinely nice letter? Zoe sniffs up a tear.

I bite back a comment about how in the world abandonment could be nice.

Zoe slides back into our booth and digs a clean sheet of paper out of her red backpack, the one for the trip. Here. Try again.

I grab a glitter pen from my pencil pouch. Maybe I’ll write about the dance contest this past spring when both of our teams tied for second place. Like, you Red Scarfers thought you could beat Sara and me.

Red Scarfers? I didn’t know you called us that. Not funny. Zoe jabs her chop sticks at me. "But what was funny was you and Sara in your dirty soccer uniforms, dancing to music from Mulan."

Hey, we got a standing ovation. I stick my tongue out at her for dissing my BFF and me. Good thing she has her head down, otherwise, she’d accuse me of being a brat.

Zoe plays with her dumpling, shredding it into a thousand pieces. So… You can start any time now.

I plop my head down on the table, just missing my plate of half-eaten fried rice. But I can’t write a nice letter to someone who doesn’t care about me.

Zoe blows garlic-scented breath at me. You know I would give anything to deliver my message – thank you for leaving me in a place where I was found and taken to an orphanage.

Well…that’s so not how I feel. I cross my arms and wait for her verbal assault.

Shaking her head, Zoe slides the Red Ribbon backpack across the table, Here. My letter is in here. Please take it. She lowers her eyes and whispers, Then, could you leave it at our orphanage? With yours?

Yeah, I can do that. I cradle the backpack. Mine for the trip. I smile at my sorta sister. You’re right about leaving us in a safe place. At least our bio moms didn’t abandon us in a rice paddy to drown.

Lizzy! I can’t believe you just said that.

Why not? It’s true.

True or not, your birth mom loved you enough to make sure you had a chance to find a new family.

I choke back a wad of anger. "That’s a load of you-know-what. My bio mom didn’t love me. She just wanted to get rid of me, so she could try again for a boy."

Oh, you are so ungrateful, so…so…clueless. Zoe slams her hand on the table, knocking over my water glass. "Maybe I should go in your place." Without another word, she storms out of the restaurant.

Our moms’ heads jerk up from their conversation at their usual table by the kitchen. Linda, sprouting a baby bump, races over to our table by the aquarium. Omigosh, what’s wrong with Zoe? Is she sick? Where’d she go?

I’m too busy wiping up the water mess and hiding my tears to say anything. Mom jumps into the conversation. Linda, you go find Zoe. I’ll take care of the bill.

Mom cuddles up next to me. Hey what happened? I thought you two were getting along great after the dance competition fiasco.

Yeah, me too. The smell of cold sweet and sour pork gags me. I push the soggy mess away and lean on Mom’s shoulder. I think she’s pretty upset about not going on the trip. Her dream trip. I add air quotes.

Sighing, Mom squeezes my shoulder. You’re probably right.

Great. Just great. I tick off my sorta sister, who even learned Mandarin for this trip. I only want to stay home and play summer soccer on the Mad City Kickers team. Instead, I have to go to China to meet the people who didn’t want me in the first place.

Chapter Two

The full moon goes behind a cloud as Mom drives us home from China Wok. She reads my don’t even think about asking me anything face and doesn’t pump me with a thousand questions. Instead, she takes the long way home, past the high school soccer fields. The lights flood the stadium on the girls’ state sectional game between my Madison West Regents and our