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do?” Mai started to sniffle.
    â€œI have an idea. I know a group of single people who live down on the southern end of the island where I’ve been digging wells.”
    â€œBut I don’t want to leave here. Small Auntie is family. Surely she’ll change her mind. Talk to her.”
    â€œListen, Mai. The other night, I heard Small Auntie and Uncle Sang talking. They really do just want us for our gold. They think because our family owned a rice exporting company, we still have a lot of money.”
    â€œBut you know that’s not so. We’ve lost it all. But we’ll get it back.”
    â€œMai, we have no choice. We can live with my friends. I’ve met some girls there who are very nice.”
    â€œOh, that’s it. Do you have a girlfriend?” Mai often saw young couples walking together on the beach in the evening. Perhaps that was why Hiep was gone so much.
    Hiep’s face flushed. “I’ll go talk to them tonight. I’m sure I can find us a place.”
    When Hiep returned to the boat that evening, the sun was down and the children were asleep. A haze of smoke hung over Small Auntie as she lingered by the fire, poking the embers. Hiep approached her while Mai hung back in the shadows, watching. She could hear them quietly talking. Then Small Auntie’s voice got louder.
    â€œIt’s impossible. You have to pay. I need money.”
    Hiep turned away and walked over to Mai. Small Auntie disappeared around the side of the boat.
    â€œWe’ll leave in the morning. After breakfast. Like she said, she’s already got someone to take our place. But we can go live with my friends. There is a place for us. Don’t worry, Mai.”
    Mai gasped. How unfair. And she thought Small Auntie had wanted them because they were family. But Uncle Hiep was right. She had only wanted their gold.
    Mai couldn’t sleep that night. First her family had sent her away, and now Small Auntie. Didn’t anyone want her? Sobs rose in her throat. She choked them down. She felt a heavy pressure on her chest, as if a huge hand were pushing her away. Tears dropped on the deck beneath her. She wasn’t sure about Hiep’s friends. She had only met one or two of them. Yet maybe it would be better there. Maybe she would see him more. Even though she would miss Minh and the girls, she would not miss Small Auntie chirping at her all day about her chores.
    Mai wondered what her family was doing now. Were they still living at Ông Ngoai’s, or were they somewhere in the South China Sea on their way to freedom? Maybe they would come to her island. Although she knew Father was out of money, perhaps he had been able to find free passage with one of his friends who owned a fishing boat.
    Ã”ng Ngoai had refused to leave Vietnam. He clung to the hope that the Communists would leave them alone. He said he had worked too hard for that textile mill. Mai had been happy living with him. A gentle man, he’d sat all day at the door of the mill in a bamboo chair listening to Chinese music on his record player while keeping an eye on his workers. Mai knew he must be lonely since Grandmother died. She laughed when she thought of him falling asleep after lunch, the brim of the funny plastic hat on his bald head tilted over his eyes, snoring to the sound of the music.
    She remembered how angry her father had been about this. He had urged his father-in-law to put his money in a Swiss bank account and leave the country, but he wouldn’t.
    The waves banged at the shoreline. Daylight would arrive soon. She wiped her eyes and, exhausted, fell asleep.
    When Mai awoke, she stared at the tarp above her. Sunlight blazed through a slit in it. She was alone. She could hear the mingled voices of children and adults outside on the beach. She had overslept. She stood up, slipped her bare feet into her dép, and gathered her few possessions—two blouses, two pairs of pants—which she placed