Girl Giant and the Monkey King Read online

  Thom rolled her eyes. “Yup. I agree. Let’s go.”

  “I want to light incense while we’re here. Come on, I’ll buy you a candle.”

  “I think that’s a Catholic thing, Ma.” Thuy’s family was Catholic, and they were always buying prayers from the priest on behalf of their dead relatives.

  “If I want to buy you a candle, I buy you a candle. Here—take this cushion before someone else does.”

  Thom looked around to see who Ma thought might want to steal cushions. They were the only people there except for an old lady shaking her incense sticks at Buddha. Thom wouldn’t have to worry that anyone from school would see her here, or witness how embarrassing Ma was while she tried to prove to Thom how cool the Vietnamese culture really was. She sighed and knelt on the red-and-gold cushion, making sure there was enough space for Ma, and pretended to bow her head. The faster she got through this, the sooner they could go home.

  Ma came back a few minutes later and handed Thom a few sticks of incense, which she obediently held up to the golden statues. The gods’ expressions were straight-faced and unamused, except Buddha, who, with his wide, dimpled smile, was permanently having a good time. It was silly, worshiping these inanimate objects with their frozen faces. Besides, you would think the gods had better things to do than listen to Thom’s petty complaints and silly pleadings.

  Ma bowed low, her forehead touching the ground. What was she asking for? She had everything—a nice job, a house, and an obedient daughter. They had moved away from their friends just so Ma could have these things—what more could she want?

  Ma tsked sharply, as if she could hear Thom’s thoughts, so Thom turned forward and pretended to pray even harder. Buddha would just tell her that suffering was a part of life. She couldn’t remember who the statue on his left was, a beautiful fairy goddess with a jade tiara on her head. She turned to the one on the right. Guanyin, the goddess of mercy, seemed like the best candidate to get Thom out of her mess. She aimed the smoke at her.

  Please, please, Guanyin.

  What exactly did she want?

  It wasn’t much. Not really. Thom wanted her old life back. To be normal again. To not be superstrong. She wanted to be able to touch something without breaking it. She wanted everyone at school to like her. She wanted to be able to play soccer again—really play it like she had at her old school. She had been good. Soccer had been fun. Now, it was something she dreaded, feared. But how else was she supposed to make friends? She wanted Bethany and Sarah and Kathy to smile and talk to her, not about her. But if she quit soccer now, she would be giving up. Not that Ma would let her quit in the first place.

  If only she weren’t so strong, she could prove to everyone how good she was. They would like her. She would have a chance.

  “Let’s look around the temple,” Ma said. “You done praying?”

  Thom nodded and followed her mother out the main room, half listening as Ma lectured about the temple’s history, the fairies and the gods, the sculptures on some of the walls. Most of the stories were ones she’d heard before, like the one about the Jade Emperor, who ruled the heavenly kingdom over the gods, who in turn ruled certain parts of the world. The fairies had always been portrayed as beautiful, giggly goddesses, playing the đàn bầu and tending to gardens. Her favorites were the ones about the dragons, the immortal warriors who took the form of humans and guarded different areas of the earth, the seas, and the skies.

  Ma stopped in front of a mural of what looked like David and a hundred Goliaths. It was a small boy, practically a baby, standing up against an army of huge soldiers.

  Ma didn’t say anything for a long time, just stood there staring at the image, so Thom wandered away, feeling bored and antsy to leave. She had never liked going to temple, even in West City, but back then all of her friends had also had to go and they didn’t like it, either, so they would all just hang out and complain about things together. Here in Troy, no one went to temple, and even though there was no way she’d run into anyone from school, it gave her the feeling that if anyone did see her here, they would use it as one more piece of evidence that Thom did not belong.

  A noise distracted her, the clink of something dropping. She stopped in front of a shelf built into the wall, displaying a miniature cast-iron sculpture of a temple. As she approached, the door of the sculpture swung back and forth on a half-broken hinge. Thom tried to close the door, but the latch also wasn’t working.

  Inside the tiny temple was an even tinier gourd, a peanut-shaped bottle carved from dark, polished stone, lying on its side. Thom recognized it from Chinese dramas—monks always used gourds to trap demons and evil spirits, and sometimes she’d seen them sold in Chinatown as souvenirs. That was probably what she’d heard fall. She glanced over her shoulder, but Ma was still staring at the pictures on the wall, so Thom reached in and picked up the gourd to place it upright.

  Something fell out of the uncorked opening. It pinged off the base of the metal temple, then bounced onto the floor.

  Thom reached for it, pinching it between her thumb and index finger. It was a golden pin, like you’d use for sewing, but it was of a stiff and coarse material, unlike any pin she’d ever held. She turned it over and over, watching light reflect off its surface, mesmerized by the color.

  “Cưng, come look at this,” Ma called to her.

  Thom placed the gourd quickly back inside the miniature temple, stuffed the golden pin-looking thing in her pocket, then went to her mom. Ma was still staring at the mural of the little boy facing an army of giants. They walked down the length of the wall, studying the scenes. In the next panel, the boy had grown taller and bigger. Eventually, he became a giant, larger than any soldier in the army, and defeated them all.

  Twin lines formed between Ma’s brows. “This is the Boy Giant. Thánh Gióng. You remember his story?”

  Thom nodded. “Kind of?”

  “He was baby for long time and didn’t grow, didn’t smile or talk or walk, until the kingdom was invaded. Then he ate lot of rice, became a giant. Superstrong, and defeated the invaders.” She stopped and frowned.

  “What happened to him?” Thom asked.

  “What you mean?”

  “After he defeated the invaders. Did he get to go home? Did he stay giant, or did he become a normal boy again?”

  “He became an immortal.” Ma lightly touched the image of the Boy Giant on the back of a horse, riding into battle. “One of the Four Immortals—they ascended to the heavens and become higher gods. A great honor.”

  “But what about his ma and ba? Didn’t they worry about him?”

  Ma turned sharply, and Thom realized she’d accidentally said the bad word you weren’t supposed to mention around her mother, the one that implied fathers existed. Thom swallowed.

  “Of course not,” Ma said gravely. “He become a god. Nothing to worry about.”

  “But he was so little. Just a kid, almost a baby.” Thom pointed at the Boy Giant in the first panel, where he could hardly stand on his own chubby legs. “His ma and ba must have worried about him.”

  “Maybe he didn’t have parents. Maybe he was orphan.”

  “But even orphans have parents.” Thom looked back at Ma, whose scowl set deep folds in her forehead.

  “Stop it. I have a headache. Let’s go home now.”

  “But…” Thom wanted to argue and point out that Ma always got a headache any time they came close to talking about fathers. Not just Thom’s dad, but any dad. Like the mention of them would cause Thom’s father to just drop out of the sky. Which made Thom want to ask even more questions. Who was her father? Why did Ma never talk about him? Was he dead or alive? Had he abandoned them? But as far as Ma was concerned, he didn’t exist.

  “I have a headache,” Ma repeated. “It’s getting late, and I still need to finish some work. Let’s go. We can come back tomorrow.”

  8

  THOM WENT UP TO HER room that night, hoping Ma had forgotten all about Culture Day, and dressi
ng her up in a stupid costume and a headdress, and pretty much anything that would ruin her entire social life for the next decade. But there was no such luck. As she was turning off the lights, Ma stopped by, leaning against the doorjamb.

  “I think I’m going to order you a new áo dài,” she said with a soft smile. She didn’t seem as excited as before, her eyes now glazed with a faraway look, but there was still a brightness in her expression, which meant there was no point in arguing. “One with a matching headdress. You look better in pink anyway, since you are so dark.”

  Thom grew hot and thought about arguing, resisting, being mean. Instead, she just muttered, “Thanks.”

  Ma smiled, not catching the sarcasm. “Okay, cưng.”

  Thom crawled into bed after Ma left, and lay there for an eternity, staring at her ceiling. She kept picturing Bethany’s face when Thom showed up in her long Vietnamese dress, how she would ogle and then smirk and then nudge her friends so they could laugh. They had enough reasons to make fun of Thom already. Imagine how much worse it would be if she dressed up as a freak for Culture Day.

  She flipped and turned, unable to find a comfortable position. She got out of bed and checked the time. It was one in the morning. How could she stop Ma from buying a new áo dài? Steal her phone? Hide her credit cards? Even if Thom managed to, Ma could always force her to wear one she already owned. If only her growth spurt would kick in so she wouldn’t fit them anymore.

  There was no way she was going to fall asleep, so she went down to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Mochi’s ears perked, and he got up from his bed, clicking after her but never coming close enough so she could pet him.

  Their new house was much bigger than the house in West City, and they were still shopping for furniture. The living room looked incomplete, the corners empty, the ceilings high, the fireplace clunky and awkward in what should have been a cozy room.

  Everything was different from their old life. Their house had been small and snug, the ceilings low, the furniture arranged like in a Tetris game, so that it all just barely fit.

  This place still didn’t feel like home; it felt like they were staying at an auntie’s house. A nice auntie, who let them keep their stuff in the drawers and cupboards.

  Ma’s door was open—she always kept it open in case Thom called for her or wanted to sneak into her bed, which Thom hadn’t done since she was five. Ma’s small form was motionless under her blankets. A soft breeze blew in through her window, lifting the gossamer curtains.

  Thom tiptoed through her room and quietly pulled the window closed.

  Thom was about to get back into her own bed when a glint of gold caught her eye.

  It was the pin that she’d found at the temple, peeking out from her jacket pocket. She’d almost forgotten about it, distracted with Culture Day.

  She held it up to the light, then laid it on the desk and set it in the slant of moonlight shimmering through the blinds.

  It shone like silver, soft at first, and then glowing brighter, as if it were feeding off the moonlight. Suddenly, it grew so bright, Thom had to cover her eyes and take a step back.

  And then the glow dimmed.

  That was weird.

  She blinked, but a blind spot blocked her vision and she could no longer see the pin on her desk.

  Then her eyes adjusted. Her mouth opened to let out a scream, but the muscles of her face froze, and nothing came out.

  Sitting at the edge of her desk, legs crossed like he belonged there, was a monkey.

  A monkey.

  Out of nowhere.

  Or rather, a part man, part monkey. Like an older boy, maybe fifteen, but covered in reddish-gold hair. His face was mischievous, his long brown eyelashes fluttering as he blinked and surveyed the room. His head tilted back and forth.

  “Hello there,” he said, his voice high and singsong.

  Thom sucked in a breath, but her face remained paralyzed.

  The monkey boy looked around the room. “Nice place.”

  He pushed off the desk and jumped onto the bed, bouncing until his head skimmed the ceiling, and then, on the last jump, he stayed up in the air. Hovering. Flying. His eyes caught on her closet, and he flew headfirst into it. He poked through her clothes, picked up a sweater, sniffed it, and tossed it over his shoulder.

  That spurred Thom out of her frozen state.

  “Hey,” she said in a choked voice, but he ignored her. He went through the rest of the clothes until he found a pair of black cutoff shorts that had once been sweatpants, which he slipped into. The fleece fringe looked too bizarre on his monkey body, on top of his strange robes.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. A dream, that’s all it is. The incense from the temple was making her hallucinate.

  But when she opened her eyes, he was still there. He was real.

  His brown eyes gleamed in the moonlight, and he batted his lashes as he looked her up and down. Then he moved way too close, his nose almost touching hers.

  “Ah,” she gasped, and stepped back.

  “Who are you?” He sniffed at her. “What is this place? How did you set me free?”

  He was speaking words Thom understood, but it was taking a long time for her brain to catch up.

  “I’m Thom,” she answered out of reflex. Then she shook herself. “What do you mean … set you free … Who are you?” she demanded.

  He straightened with an indignant look of disbelief. “You don’t know me?” He puffed out his chest and drew his shoulders back. “I,” he proclaimed, hands on his hips, “am the Great Sage of Heaven!”

  “The what?”

  “Sun Wukong.”

  She blinked at him.

  “Tôn Ngộ Không.” He raised his brows.

  She shook her head.

  “The Monkey King,” he said.

  No way. She knew who the Monkey King was, of course. Not one Chinese or Vietnamese kid grew up without hearing of him. But he was a myth. This must have been a trick. Some creepy dude dressed in a fur suit had followed her home and snuck into her bedroom.

  She touched his face. The fur was rough but fluffy, flattening under her palm. His skin warm and alive, not rubbery like a suit would have been.

  But it couldn’t be real. He couldn’t be real.

  There was only one way to find out. She grabbed a handful of fur and yanked. He twitched, then straightened. He narrowed his eyes at Thom, and she took a step back before they both looked down at her open palm. In her hand sat a single strand of hair, stiff and coarse. Just like the golden pin she’d found at the temple.

  “The hair.” Oh no. It made sense now. “That was you?”

  He grabbed the strand she’d plucked and shoved it back into the side of his head like a pin through a cushion. “You are the one who released me from the temple?”

  “I found a golden pin and brought it home. I didn’t know…” Of course. In the legends, the Monkey King could shrink down to the size of a needle to hide from his enemies. “I didn’t know it was you.”

  “Who else would it be?” He snorted, huffing through his nostrils several times. “They call me the handsome Monkey King. The magnificent, powerful, undefeatable, invincible Monkey King.”

  “Handsome. Right, okay.” Thom was dreaming. This wasn’t real. The smoke from the incense, the trip to the temple—all of it had gotten to her head.

  He straightened to his full height, puffing out his chest. “I have discovered the secret of life and immortality. I have beaten death. I know the Seventy-Two Transformations. I can fly through air. I can become invisible. I can breathe underwater. I can walk through flames. I can clone myself with each hair of my body. I am all-powerful.”

  “Really?” He looked ridiculous with his chest out and his chin raised, wearing her cutoff sweat shorts. Maybe it was the missing red-and-gold armor she’d always associated with the Monkey King, but there was something off about the way he looked. Something was missing. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

  He consid
ered this, his shoulders slumping. “I’ve yet to learn the secret of resurrecting the dead. But in time, I will perfect that skill and add it to my arsenal.”

  “Oh … kay.” It was hitting her how weird this was. There was a monkey in her room. There was a talking monkey in her room. And not just any talking monkey, but the Monkey King. She should be having an anxiety attack any moment now.

  Except this was a dream, wasn’t it?

  “But what did you mean,” she said, “when you asked if I released you from the temple?” And the way he’d said it—“released”—it was like he’d been some kind of prisoner. “What were you even doing at the temple?”

  She’d found the hair inside the gourd, as if someone had put it there for safekeeping and had forgotten about it. But maybe the miniature temple hadn’t been decoration; maybe it was a prison, one protected with magic so that the demon trapped inside couldn’t escape.

  And she had opened it. She had released him.

  Thom’s eyes widened as the realization of what she’d done hit her. She had freed the Monkey King.

  Their eyes locked.

  He stood very still.

  Then he bolted for the window.

  Thom acted without thinking and lunged for him. Her arms wrapped around his knees, and they both landed on the floor with a thump. She winced. Was that loud enough to wake Ma?

  “Be quiet,” she whispered.

  The Monkey King wiggled, one leg slipping free, his foot slapping against her face. He was strong, stronger than she’d expected. But she was strong, too. She pinned him to the floor.

  “This … is … impossible,” he grunted, pushing his foot so hard against her face that her neck bent backward. “How are you…?”

  She reached up and pulled his foot away, lifting it high, so he was forced to do the splits, lying down.

  This was weird. This was really weird. The weirdest thing she’d ever done, and Thom was in middle school, where weird things happened pretty often.

  “Let me go,” the Monkey King said, thrashing. For a second, he slipped and lifted into the air like he weighed nothing, but she threw herself on top of him.