The following story has been edited from the original in order to comply with this website's guidelines. Note that only Part 1 has been edited. Please contact the author if you have any questions.
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CHAPTER 1
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I was eight years old when my parents died. They had come to America just before I was born, eking out a living as hired farm hands in California before moving on towards the Great Plains. This was the land of opportunity, but life was not easy in Middle America for a couple of uneducated Chinks and two small children.
Still, all of their hopes and dreams were for our success. My younger sister and I attended local schools as often as possible, and every extra penny they had went into providing for our educational needs. They dreamed that I could grow up and be a doctor or lawyer, live a better life.
We were on our way to a new job in the next state over when my dad fell asleep at the wheel. He and my mom had been driving in shifts for the last two days straight in order to make it to the new job on time. Our battered truck flipped into a ditch, and the next thing I knew, Child Services was delivering me to a dusty building where a weather-beaten couple was waiting for me. A sign by the road read "Masters Farm".
A kind but overworked and exhausted social worker was talking to my new foster parents. They were signing some paperwork and then the social worker handed them a check. She turned and pointed to me. "His family died in an accident off Route 47. We don't have any record of where they were headed or where they were coming from. Just a family of undocumented Chinese. But the boy's got a US birth certificate; he speaks perfect English, and responds to the name 'John'."
'Responds to' is right. My name is "Chon". Hell, they had my birth certificate which spelled it out for them. But after trying to get that point across for several minutes I just gave up. John sounded close enough to Chon anyways.
The social worker gave me a tight smile and then climbed into her car, driving away in a cloud of dust. My new father, a big man, bellowed in my general direction, "Johnny, get over here, boy!"
Oh how I missed my teddy bear at that moment. I hadn't seen it since the accident. So with my eyes downcast to the dirt, I had nothing to hug but myself as I trudged forwards and followed my new parents into the house.
They sat me at a worn but serviceable dining table, and settled into the chairs opposite me. I did my best not to cry while they laid down the ground rules. First off, I was to call them "Master" and "Ma'am." Ma'am went on to place a bowl of pea soup before me, which I ate quickly and hungrily while Master explained my situation.
"The government is only giving us pennies a month for you, and you'll damn near eat that much alone. So you've gotta earn your keep around here, see? You'll have chores all day every day, starting at six o'clock. You come right here and see me every morning and I'll tell you what you need to do for the day. Except on Sundays. That's the Sabbath. Understand?"
I just nodded my head yes.
Before I realized it, the side of my head was splitting in pain and Master was leaning over me, his open palm cocked for another slap. The tears were flowing freely from my eyes now. "You say 'I understand, Master.'"
"I understand, Master," I managed to burble out.
"Smart boy. Now part of the deal is that you'll get some schooling. Now I think that's a waste of time for a farm boy, but a deal's a deal; otherwise they'll stop giving me checks for you. Understand?"
"I understand, Master."
"Good. You learn fast. I like that. Now when you're finished with your supper, Katie'll show you where you're sleeping."
For a moment I thought he was referring to Ma'am, but even as he said this, Ma'am turned and hollered out the backyard, "Katie! Get in here!"
Moments later, a young girl about my age came running, fear in her eyes as she stopped in front of Ma'am, rigidly at attention. "You'll wash up Johnny's bowl and then take him to the Barn. Understand?"
"I understand, Ma'am."
"And you say hello to Johnny."
Katie turned to look at me. Her eyes were the clearest blue I could imagine. "Hello Johnny. Pleased to meet you." She came forward and scooped up my bowl, quickly moving to the sink to begin washing it. I noticed some light bruises fading on her arms and face. Nothing serious. But I understood this was a family that believed in corporal discipline.
Master explained, "Social workers brought us Katie last year. She's a good worker. We're hoping you'll be a good worker too." He turned and looked to his wife. "Heck, maybe we should get us a coupla more orphans and we won't have to do nothing 'round here no more!"
The bowl and spoon were quickly put away, and then Katie came to me. She took my hand in hers, and led me out the back door. From that first day, I couldn't take my eyes off her. She reminded me of a doll I'd once seen in a toy store. Strawberry blonde hair, round cheeks, bright blue eyes. I'd never been at a school long enough to make real friends before. I hoped she would be my friend.
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The first week was really rough. It took me a while to get used to saying "Master" and "Ma'am" after everything I said, and I had the bruises to prove it. They weren't bad people, mind you. It was just their idea of discipline. And there were so many things to learn. I'd never really worked a farm before. As a kid, I'd usually just help my parents picking fruit or small jobs like that. We'd be around for planting or for harvest, then move on to the next job. All the tasks I was used do doing were handled by other hired help. Now I was suddenly expected to milk cows, saddle horses, and do all the daily things involved in running the place.