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impatiently, “Don’t wear that dress to school again.”
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    That afternoon, before going back to school, I changed into a white blouse and blue pants, hoping no one would pick on me. But as soon as I walked into the classroom, the short-haired girl, Yu, shrieked, “The little landlord is pretending to be working class.”
She shook her dirty finger at me. “We revolutionaries can smell a wolf under her human skin.”
    â€œWolf, wolf, wolf!” her friends chanted.
    I glared at her clothes, dirty and covered with patches. “I would rather be a wolf than look like you,” I whispered, and walked toward my seat.
    The rabbit-faced boy sniffed at me as I passed. Others laughed and made sniffing sounds. My back was instantly soaked with sweat. My knees trembled under my desk until class started. Why were they picking on me for no reason?
    The teasing did not stop until the math teacher entered the classroom. He was a stern old man with thick glasses. For the first time, I wished that math class would never end. During breaks, I stayed in my seat and pretended to read Mao’s little red book. Fortunately, Yu led everyone outside to bully someone else.
    Later, I learned the rabbit-faced boy’s name was Gao. His father was an important person sent by the army to oversee the Cultural Revolution in our district.
    Yu and Gao continued to bully me by calling me bloodsucking landlord. In less than a week, everyone
in the class had stopped using my real name during recess. I did my best to ignore them. If I had only known, I would never have skipped a grade.
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    One morning in mid-September, I didn’t see Father at breakfast.
    â€œWhere’s Daddy?” I asked Mother.
    She set out a glass of homemade soy milk and a plate with two steamed buns and slices of vegetarian sausage. “He went to check on one of his patients.”
    I was about to ask whether I’d see him before I left for school when weeping noises came down the chimney pipe from upstairs. I stopped eating. “Listen. Someone is crying.” It was Mrs. Wong! I jumped out of my chair.
    â€œYou stay and finish your breakfast. I’ll go.” Mother ran toward the door. I hardly ever saw her run. “Ladies should walk with grace,” she always told me.
    I left my breakfast and pressed my ear to the fireplace pipe. The words were hard to understand. I wished I could turn into a little bug and crawl up the pipe to see what was happening there! Finally, Mother returned with tears in her eyes.

    â€œDr. Wong disappeared last night after Comrade Li called him to his office.”
    I was too shocked to cry. What happened to Dr. Wong? I hoped my friend Comrade Li would help us find him. He knew so many people, even the policemen.
    â€œPlease, Momma, let me go see Mrs. Wong!”
    â€œNo, she’s too upset right now. Go! You’re late for school.” Mother hung my schoolbag over my shoulder and pushed me toward the front door.
    I didn’t hear a thing Teacher Hui said that day. My thoughts were as busy as the traffic on Victory Road. I wished I could ask Teacher Hui my questions. What happened to Dr. Wong? Did it have to do with his brother in Hong Kong? Was it because he was Dr. Smith’s student? If so, what might happen to Father?
    That night Father and I met Comrade Li in the hallway coming out of the bathroom.
    â€œGood evening, Comrade Li,” said Father. “Could you please tell me what happened to Dr. Wong?”
    Comrade Li rudely pushed his way between us. “Dr. Wong is an enemy of the state. He dared to
write a letter that criticized Chairman Mao,” he said loudly. “That is all you need to know.” He slammed his door behind him.
    I was shocked that he called Dr. Wong an enemy. Why would he criticize Chairman Mao? Was Comrade Li angry with Father because he was Dr. Wong’s best friend?
    Father and Mother stayed up late that night, whispering in