Free The Lonely War by Alan Chin

terms. The clutch of red-roofed buildings looked like an illusion floating between the azure lake and the fiery mountains of Siam. Gliding above the lake were hundreds of the cranes that made the monastery famous.
    When Long-Jin, the oldest acolyte, spotted the cranes, he began his favorite game of poking fun at Clifford. He teased Clifford that his hair was the same color as a crane’s feathers. Laughter burst from the other boys as Long-Jin scrunched up his elongated face, set between two enormous ears, and imitated a birdcall.
    “Fly here, bird-boy,” Long-Jin shouted. “Stretch your neck and fly to the treetops, bird-boy.”
    Clifford’s face reddened and he tried to respond, but he was too flustered. All he could do was stutter the first syllable of his defense, which sent the boys into fits of hysteria.
    Andrew stepped between the two boys and gave Long-Jin a cold stare. “You taunt Clifford because you’re jealous of his beauty.” Long-Jin’s face drooped as Andrew added, “Although it’s true that your looks are ordinary, you shouldn’t feel ashamed of your snout-like nose and elephant ears.”
    “A half caste’s opinion is like farting in the wind,” Long-Jin snarled. “It stinks for a moment and blows away, leaving nothing.”
    Andrew continued, unfazed. “I would gladly have a bird’s white feathers and graceful body.”
    “Andrew.” Master Jung-Wei’s penetrating voice turned every head. “I shall call you, Lingtse,” the master told Andrew. “Ling meaning spirit and Tse meaning stone. For I can see that you are destined to become one of the Pebble People.”
    Andrew had never heard of the Pebble People, but he nodded as if he knew them well. His pride swelled as the other boys exchanged questioning glances, but his curiosity refused to stay silent, and he finally asked, “Master, who are the Pebble People?”
    A smile broke across the monk’s face. “Throw a pebble into a still pond and what happens? Ripples. Waves move across the surface in all directions. You are a person who, when placed in any situation, will cause waves and bring change to everything.”
    “Master, you name me after a tiny pebble?”
    “You hold the essence of the Pebble People. That is your nature. Whether you are small and make ripples or huge as a mountain and make a tsunami depends on how you live your life.”
    The monk bent and randomly selected a stone lying beside the path. He popped it into his mouth to wet it and spat it onto the palm of his hand. “See what happens when the pebble gets thrown into a pond.”
    They all leaned forward and stared. Glistening with saliva, the stone looked polished. Andrew saw that the small gray mass was intricately marbled with fine blue lines and had golden specks imbedded throughout that sparkled in the sunlight.
    “Keep watching,” the monk said.
    The sun’s rays dried the pebble, transforming it into an ordinary gray stone.
    “Is that good?” Andrew asked.
    “What is good and what is bad I cannot say. We all have Chi, and when we focus our Chi it reveals our nature. We can bend our Chi to achieve any purpose. Lingtse, you must be careful how you use your Chi because it has such a disruptive quality.”
    Andrew wondered if this was a gift or a curse. He glanced at Clifford and decided he would prefer being a lovely crane gliding above a lake rather than a dusty stone lying along a path. He spread his arms, pretending that they were limber wings, and ran along the path with his arms rhythmically gliding up and down. Right on his heels, Clifford mimicked Andrew’s arm movements while laughing with wild delight.
    In his sleep, Andrew smiled. The dream faded, and once again he floated in emptiness.

Chapter Eight
     
     
     
    April 18, 1942—2330 hours
     
    N IGHT descended with only the glimmer of stars to disturb the inky sky, and with night came the long and lonely watches. Andrew drifted in a light slumber. He had no sooner submerged into deep unconsciousness