Free Out of the Dragon's Mouth by Joyce Burns Zeiss

Hiep’s face was aglow and his eyes had a faraway look. She saw Lan steal a glance at him and wondered if Lan felt the same way about Hiep that Mai felt about Kien. She had wanted Kien as a friend, but she was beginning to feel something more, something she couldn’t describe. Was this what love was? She looked at the moon, full and bright, and knew it was the happiest time of her life.
    The next morning, Mai carried her large plastic bucket and her small metal one to the washing well. She lowered the metal one several times, emptying it into the large plastic one. This would give her enough rinse water for her clothes and the dishes; the seawater was fine for washing, but her clothes needed a fresh water rinse or they would dry stiff, smelling of salt.
    Later, at the drinking well, she saw Kien and blushed. He ambled over to her, his buckets clanging.
    â€œWant some help?” He reached for her bucket. “I had to leave early this morning to get the sea cucumbers. I thought you would probably be tired after last night.” He looked down at his feet, waiting.
    â€œOh, that’s all right.” She tried hard to pretend that she hadn’t missed him. She didn’t want him to think he couldn’t go get them without her.
    â€œWe could go catch sea cucumbers early tomorrow morning if you’d like.” Kien lowered Mai’s bucket down the well. She heard the splash as it hit the water, and then Kien raised it slowly so that it wouldn’t tip.
    â€œI enjoyed the music last night. I didn’t know you played guitar,” Mai told him.
    â€œIt was my father’s. He used to play it for my mother. When he left, he gave it to her as a remembrance.” Kien’s voice dropped and Mai regretted her question. She didn’t want him to be sad because of her. His music had brought her so much happiness.
    â€œBut how did you learn to play it?”
    â€œI taught myself. It’s not hard. I could teach you.”
    Mai’s eyes widened in surprise. “But that would take up so much of your time. I couldn’t.” No one had ever offered to help her like this.
    â€œYes, I insist. After dinner tonight. Let’s take the water back now so we can go line up for food. Maybe that American girl will be back and you can learn some English.”
    The bucket had never felt as light as Mai walked alongside Kien back to their tent, where, after delivering the water, they began the long trek to the Red Cross tent in the center of the island. Kien extended his hand to her again when they approached the rocky crossing, but Mai shook her head. “No, I need to do this on my own,” she said, and much to her surprise, she did. By this time the rays of the midmorning sun had turned the sand into hot coals, and they were forced to wade in the ocean to cool their scorched feet.
    As they approached the middle of the island, the sparkling white sand lost its luster and faded into a dingy brown, contaminated by a swelling city of refugees. Mai stepped around a pile of discarded tin cans and thought about how beautiful and unspoiled her end of the island was.
    When she and Kien arrived at the food tent, the American girl, Miss Cindy, was there, her blonde hair swept up in a ponytail, her sun-tanned arms holding up the letters of the alphabet, a throng of children at her feet. Mai edged over to the outside of the group and stared intently at the letters. They were very different from Chinese characters with their straight black lines, which she had learned to write at school; they were more round and flowing, like Vietnamese letters. Kien stood next to her and, together, they repeated the letters. If only she had something to write with so she could study them back at her tent.
    She stood shyly watching the class until it was over. Then she approached the American teacher. “I would like to learn English, please,” she said.
    Miss Cindy smiled at her. “Everyone is