Outrun the Moon(66)

“Me?” My stomach lurches at the thought.

“Place these on her back where she is unlikely to see the marks.” He doesn’t bother to whisper, as no one can understand him, anyway. “The leeches deposit a numbing substance before they bite, so she won’t feel them. They will detach by themselves when they are full, so do not pry them off, or you may cause infection.”

I think about all the leeches we pulled off prematurely yesterday. My skin suddenly feels very itchy. Maybe we’re all dying of the plague this very instant.

“Mercy, are you paying attention?”

“Yes, Ah-Suk.”

“Use the remaining tea in this cup to get the blood to clot afterward, or it will bleed for hours. Very messy.”

“Okay,” I say in a shaky voice, imagining Headmistress Crouch waking up in a pool of her own blood. “Where will you be?”

“Outside.” His Cantonese is heavy with sarcasm. “Hosting a tea party.”

He snorts loudly, then ties the tent door closed. I stare at the canvas in amazement. That sly Dr. Gunn understands English after all.





30



FRANCESCA, KATIE AND I MANAGE to unbutton Headmistress Crouch’s shirt without waking her. Thankfully, her corset already lies in a corner of her tent. Harry has disappeared, probably to Canada. I show the girls the wiggling bag of leeches, and Francesca turns a pale shade of green.

“Why don’t you grab some of that rice porridge for us before everyone eats it?” I suggest, though I doubt I will be able to eat until next month.

Francesca shakes her head. “No. I’ll help you. Katie, you go look after Harry.”

“All right. Here’s mud in your eye, suckers,” Katie whispers to the bag of leeches, then leaves.

I pluck up a blob. It reminds me of the gallbladder Ma would pull out of the chicken, one of the few pieces she would discard. When the leech begins to squirm, my own gallbladder shudders in response. I force myself to focus on Headmistress Crouch’s shoulder blades, which look like shark fins, while I very carefully stick the suckers to her veined back.

With a blank expression one toe away from horror, Francesca helps me place the leeches as briskly as layering pepperoni on a pizza.

I thought being leeched was the most repulsive thing that could happen to me, but I was wrong. Watching leeches gorge themselves on someone else’s blood, even if that blood belongs to someone you dislike . . . that takes the biscuit.

No wonder Tom would rather fly than step into his father’s shoes.

“I’ll watch her; you go eat,” I say quietly, giving Francesca an excuse to leave. No need for both of us to suffer.

“Okay. How long do you think they’re going to take?”

“Half an hour? An hour?” Ah-Suk’s appointments never lasted longer than that.

“That’s good. We have a dinner to plan. I’ll be back soon.”

The seconds drag on. Every time a siren goes off or a trumpet blares, I jump, worried that she will wake up and find me leeching her.

I think about Ba again. Maybe I can somehow telegraph my location to him. All he has to do is make it to the park. He’ll see the Missing People Books and figure out where I am. And if he doesn’t, I will look for him.

Soon enough, Francesca pokes her head back in. “I have some porridge for you. Come out and eat.”

We carefully trade places. Once I’m outside, I inhale the cold San Francisco air. The porridge is still warm, and despite my disgust over the leeches, I find my appetite has boomeranged back to me. I down it hungrily.

“Mercy!” Francesca hisses from inside the tent.

Back I go. The first of the leeches is starting to pill. I hardly breathe, counting the seconds, silently urging those leeches to snap the buggy whip. If Headmistress Crouch woke up right now, there’s no explanation for what we’re doing that doesn’t sound worse than what we’re actually doing. She could have us arrested for unlawful leeching. If there wasn’t already a law, they’d make one up special for me.

The leech rolls off, and I drop it into the bag while Francesca dabs the compress of cooled tea onto her back. One by one, the other leeches haul anchor. We dry her back, freezing at every pause in her breathing, every twitch of her nose.

When all the wounds have stopped bleeding, we redress her, moving with painstakingly slow movements.

Finally, when every button is secure and every ribbon tied, Headmistress Crouch starts to snore. Francesca tosses me an exasperated look. Guess Ah-Suk’s sleeping potion really did pack a wallop.

The sun is on full glare by the time we leave her tent.

Ah-Suk is showing the girls a game of stone tossing, using very good English. Elodie, however, is still writing in her book. I wonder if her hand, the book, or her pencil will give out first. Georgina hits her mark with a stone, and the others begin clapping.

When they see us, Ah-Suk, Harry, and Katie hurry over. Ah-Suk glances inside Headmistress Crouch’s tent then tells me in Cantonese, “Best physician now is Dr. Time.”

“Thank you, Ah-Suk.”

He nods, then sets off back toward his camp.

“What happened? Is she still sleeping?” Katie asks.

“Yes. All’s well for now.” I hold the bag of leeches behind my back. The thought that it’s filled with Headmistress Crouch’s blood picks up the hairs of my skin. Now all that’s left to do is sacrifice a pig and tie a hairy gourd to my leg and I will be the “heathen” she wants me to be.