The Cornfield (Fiction)

 “Yaya! Let’s go play ‘Fucking,’” whispered Bing outside the window.

It was noon rest time. Grandpa was asleep in the bamboo chair in the living room. I tiptoed through the front door. Cicadas on the trees in front of the house were complaining, “Too hot!” I followed Bing on the dirt road to Feng’s house next door. Bing’s grandma was my grandaunt, and I had been following him around since Mama dropped me off at grandparents’ three months ago. After Feng joined us, we headed west. The large green cornfields were on the left beyond a ditch with muddy water.

I was five, Feng six and Bing eight.

Through a side trail, we crossed the ditch and walked on the narrow footpath between the cornfields. After making sure nobody saw us, we quickly entered the forest of corn. It was cooler in the cornfields with the corn tassels looming above me, twice my height. Smelling the dry dirt and the ripening corn, we threaded our way through the cornstalks further and further until the cicadas sounded distant.

Bing and Feng pulled leaves from the stalks and flattened them on the ground to make a bed. “Let’s do it!” Bing said. Feng looked at Bing with his crossed-eyes and pulled down his pants half way and lay down. This was the second time I played this, and I didn’t know why my heart raced like a galloping pony. I slowly pulled down my pants half way and lay on top of Feng, face to face, naked part touching naked part. We just lay there while Bing watched us. Time went by slowly and I grew bored. Was this really what the grownups do, as Bing had seen? I wanted to get up, but Bing’s frown made me stay. A week ago when we played this for the first time, Bing lay down with me to show Feng. That time, Bing had asked me to lie down first, then he lay on top of me. But I could hardly breathe, so he decided that I should always be on top. I felt I was being cared for.

“Let’s go!” Bing said finally. I sprang up. We walked out of the cornfield in single file, with Bing leading, me in the middle, and Feng the last. Feng didn’t go to the one-classroom school for kids over age six because he was slow in his head, I heard, and his crossed eyes were often mocked by other boys. Whenever they saw Feng, they would all cross their eyes and laugh until their tummies hurt. One boy would always ask if Feng saw him as one person or two. Feng rarely spoke. What a bore to play “Fucking” with. We walked along the ditch. At the end of the ditch, Feng took off his new sandals to wash his feet. On impulse, I threw one of his sandals into the ditch, and instantly I wished I hadn’t done it. The muddy water was deep. “Give me back my shoe,” Feng said. I ran home.

At dusk, Bing came to take me to a new secret place. We walked to dachang. Dachang was the open flat land that the villagers shared to dry the harvested crops and sift grains, and also a place for village gatherings.

We passed the cornfield on the left and then crossed a narrow cement bridge over a small creek before we arrived at dachang, where many hay piles were stacked. My favorite thing to do with these hay piles was climbing them. I would run from afar towards a hay pile, as Bing did before he climbed to the top. But I always slid down half way.

We stopped at one of the hay piles, and Bing removed the hay from the front of the pile. It was hollow! I bent down and followed him inside. The outside noises disappeared--like magic. I breathed in the smell of the fresh hay mixed with sunshine. I sat down while Bing blocked the entrance with loose hay. It went dark. “Shhh!” he said. People were walking by and talking. They had no idea that we were inside the hay! I could barely hold my laugh.

“Yaya! Dinner!” Grandpa called in the distance. We crawled out and then camouflaged the entrance.

I ate dinner as fast as I could because my favorite movie “Nezha Conquers the Dragon King” would be shown again on dachang that night. Then I heard Feng crying and his mama yelling about the lost shoe. I felt a big knot in my stomach, fearing his mama would suddenly show up at the door and ask for the sandal. But she didn’t come. Quickly, I washed myself in a wooden tub and then changed into my favorite pink flower dress with lace.

Grandma walked with me to dachang, but I felt like running as breeze tickled me through my pink dress. I ran ahead all the way to dachang, where Uncle Jin and several others were raising a big white rectangular cloth tied between two poles. Soon, more and more people gathered that I didn’t know. They brought their own little wooden benches to sit in front of the white screen. The big crowd excited me. I felt pretty in my pink flower dress and I loved the attention that I attracted. I opened my arms to spin my body so that my pink flower dress would fly out. “What a pretty girl!” I heard someone say. I spun faster until I felt too dizzy to stand. I found Grandma and collapsed onto her lap.

The sky grew dark. The movie began in a cool breeze. When the movie was over, everyone stood up to leave at the same time. Jumping off of Grandma’s lap, I worked my way through the crowd, but was pushed from behind and fell. I tried to get up, but someone was standing on my dress. I was scared and began to cry. A pair of big hands pulled me up. “Don’t cry, pretty girl. I’ll get you out of here,” the stranger with big hands said. He lifted me up and carried me in his arms. In the moonlight, through tears I saw Feng in the crowd.

The man walked fast and soon the noise of the crowd was behind the narrow cement bridge. My grandparents’ house was nearby. I wanted to be put down, but he kept walking. I smelled corn. We were in the cornfield. Suddenly, I was scared.

“I want to go home,” I said.

He locked me in his arms and pressed my body against his chest.

“I want to go home!” I kicked him.

His big hand moved under my dress between my legs, like the sandpaper Grandpa used, scrubbing my skin.

I began to cry.

One big hand covered my mouth while the other was touching my naked part in a strange way, a finger poking inside. It hurt so much that I wanted to scream, but my voice was trapped in my chest. I kicked him harder, but his body was hard like a rock.

“Ahhh!” a voice shouted. It was Feng.

“Little bastard! Shouting for what?” the man said.

Feng kept yelling. The man finally let go of me and disappeared into the dark. I let out my cry.

“Yaya! Yaya!” Grandma was calling.

I walked home, sobbing. Feng followed at a distance.

Grandma was waiting for me in front of the house. I couldn’t tell Grandma what happened. It still hurt there and I was afraid to touch it. After Grandma and Grandpa went to sleep, I crawled under the bed and hid my wrinkled pink flower dress in the far corner. I didn’t want to wear it again because it would remind me of the big hands.

The next day, I walked to the hay house and sat in the dark, hugging my knees until Grandpa called me for lunch, then for dinner, then lunch the next day, then dinner again. When Bing came after school, I pushed him out with all my strength.

Feng was the only one who shared my secret. When other boys mocked his crossed eyes again, I felt sorry for him. If they knew my naked part had been poked by a big hand, they would shout together, “Big hand poked! Big hand poked!” and then laugh until their tummies hurt.

It was quiet in the hay house.

Three months later I turned six. The ditch was drained and I saw Feng’s sandal in the mud. I washed it in the creek and left it by his door. As I was walking to the hay house, something was lifted in my heart. All of a sudden, I felt like running. I ran, and ran. I ran as fast I could. So fast that I believed none of those boys could catch me. I ran, and ran. I ran toward the tallest hay pile and climbed all the way to the top for the first time. I stood there, shouting at the top of my lungs, “Wo liu sui le!” (I’m six!) Tears washed my face like a warm spring.

The Cornfield (fiction), published in sPARKLE & bLINK, issue 68: september 2015. Reading @ Quiet Lightning.