Dim Sum Mysteries - 1. Chapter 1 - Appetizer

Chapter 1 – Appetizer

A giant dumpling was chasing me in the dark of night. Weird, it was roughly human shaped and was wearing some kind of formal suit and a black bowler hat. I didn’t know what I had done to incite its wrath. Maybe I had eaten one of its children? I had no way of knowing now, and it was catching up to me.

I turned a corner and found myself face to face with a giant noodle monster. Its body, formed by a wriggling mass of thin, tentacle-like noodles, took up the entire width of the alley in front of me. It was too dark to see much, but the oily sheen on the noodles was visible from the light coming from a nearby streetlight. Without warning, two larger strands of noodles grabbed my arms, and then my legs were gripped by two other noodles. I was dragged, helpless, across the ground. I struggled, but it was futile.

The giant dumpling had caught up to me. It stopped for a moment, as if contemplating what to do with me, and then it leapt upon me and I didn’t know what happened next. Maybe I had screamed?

Thursday, the Liu household, 02:34

I woke up with a start. My eyes didn’t open wide open straight away, of course – I just became suddenly conscious. I tried to shake off the dream, that weird and frightening dream. It was just damn peculiar, but I remembered that horrible feeling of fright. Normally, I would have laughed at something like a giant dumpling chasing me. On the contrary, I think the dumpling would have been afraid of me instead. I was feeling a bit hungry.

I felt a bit wet all over – I must have sweated through the dream or something, even though I wasn’t even wearing a shirt and my blanket had been tossed aside. I got up and rubbed my eyes, still thinking of the ridiculousness of that dream. Stumbling and fumbling through the darkness, not bothering to turn the lights (I didn’t want to wake up my parents), I somehow made it to the bathroom with no bruises. I quickly rinsed and toweled my face.

I took a moment to look at myself at the mirror. My skin was pretty pale; I definitely hadn’t inherited that healthy, tanned skin that you got from living around the tropics, from my parents. It was the same for my younger sister by two years, Anna, too. My parents told me it was because I was born and raised for the first seven years of my life in Canada, before moving to the U.S. I’ve always wondered whether that would have any effect at all.

A flat stomach, broad shoulders and the slight beginnings of a six-pack – not bad for a skinny 16-year old – I could have buffed myself up a little more if I wanted to, though. But, I’ve always focused on my writing, and I figured that getting physically fit would be second to my future as a novelist. Not that I wouldn’t mind it, of course. I also wanted to get taller – I know it’s a stereotype, but many Asians just aren’t born with that ‘tall’ gene other people had.

There were noticeable bags under my eyes, the product of staying up many nights working on my novel. It usually wasn’t this visible, but I guess I just woke up from a bad dream, so that was understandable.

I relieved myself before going back to my room. I was tempted to open up my laptop and continue on that mystery-thriller novel I was working on, but I decided not to. After that weird, weird dream about the giant dumpling, my creative juices weren’t flowing very well. Somehow, without really paying attention, I must have fallen asleep again.

Thursday, the Liu household, 07:34

I woke up to the sound of my mother screaming.

“Ryan! Ryan, wake up! Up, up, up! You’re going to be late!”

I groaned and put my pillow above my head. Why did she have to wake me up now? I needed more sleep, even though I must have had at least ten hours in total last night.

Another voice joined my mother’s from somewhere in the house. “Ryan, if you don’t get up, I’ll be late too! Get up!”

My sister. They weren’t going to leave me alone, obviously, so I did the only thing to shut them up. I practically ran through the corridor out of my room and into the bathroom. I had to move fast – if I was caught in my mother’s line of sight, I’d have to endure five minutes of screaming.

I locked the door as quickly as I could and washed up. I checked the wall clock that my dad had practically nailed straight onto the wall. I could still see the cracks. School started at eight, so I guess I understood why my mother and sister were yelling at me.

My parents both worked together, managing a pretty successful chain of dim sum restaurants around the US. It was beautifully named “the Jade Phoenix”, although my sister and I had eaten there so many times we’ve both begun to call it “the Jaded Phoenix” instead.

My dad left for work before my mom did, though, and the latter was somewhere in the house probably searching for a weapon to beat me into submission. I changed as fast as I could, grabbed my bag and sprinted out the front door towards that nice blue Ford my dad had given me. Anna was already waiting inside.

“What took you so long?” she asked me, putting on her seatbelt.

“Just one of those days, Anna,” I told her simply and started up the car.

We were silent for most of the ride to school, but then Anna spoke up. “Hey, Ryan, did you hear about that girl who was murdered on Monday?”

I looked at her strangely. “Where’d you hear that?"

She shrugged at me. “She was from that other school from the other side of town, but it’s pretty scary, don’t you think?”

“If anyone dares to touch you, remind me to get one of mom’s chili sauce and I’ll make some homemade pepper spray,” I told her, half-joking. “Maybe I’ll take the whole supply of knives at the nearest Jaded Phoenix.”

Anna laughed, but I was pretty serious. If my sister was harmed in any way, I could guarantee I’d find a way to inflict maximum physical pain on whoever harmed her.

Thursday, Mac Worthington High School, 08:04

“What time do you need to get picked up?”

“Ryan, I always get out of class at 2, it’s not gonna change.”

“Well, my phone’s on all day, so just text me if something’s come up.”

“Okay, okay.”

I pulled Anna into a hug before she could leave and kissed the top of her head. She giggled and struggled out of my grasp.

“Ryan! I’m not a little girl anymore!”

I grinned at her and watched as she quickly ran off to class. I knew that deep inside she liked having a protective older brother, and it comforted me to know that she could depend on me. I checked my watch. Crap. I was going to be late for English.

Thursday, Mac Worthington High School, 11:24

“Meeting is adjourned, Writers of the Round Table. I’ll see you guys next week. Anita, don’t forget that extra chapter of your short story for the school’s newsletter.”

The Writers of the Round Table. I know, it was a tacky name, but everyone in the Writer’s Club seemed to like it and I guess it kind of got stuck with us. I found the name really strange, since we only had one large rectangular table in our room. As the president of the club, I had always asked for a round table, but then again, I didn’t really find it necessary to begin with. Oh well.

I approached Ben, a tall and skinny, brown-haired boy a year older than me, and tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. He swung around.

“Hmm?”

“The Junior Journalists want to work with us for an article for next week’s newsletter,” I explained. “I was hoping you could gather some more info from them and work with them. Can I count on you?”

“Sure, I’ll help. But you could probably talk to their leader, Fred, tomorrow.”

I scratched the side of my head, confused. “I could?”

Ben gave me a “didn’t you know?” look. “There’s a big meeting between the club presidents and the popular people at your parents’ restaurant tomorrow after school.”

“Where’d you hear this? How come I didn’t know about this?” Nobody ever told me about this.

“Yeah, but I don’t know what the meeting’s about. I heard Victoria planned it all,” Ben said.

Who was that? “Victoria?”

“You know, that creepy girl from the Voodoo Club,” Ben said, shuddering. “I tell you, don’t mess with her. I think she laid a curse on my cousin once – he hasn’t been the same since.”

Friday, the Jade Phoenix, 17:50

My parents were more than happy to accommodate several more customers. They set aside a separate room for we presidents, and I told them to serve us whatever they’ve got. I couldn’t help it – the meeting was pretty sudden, but I liked being a good host.

There were only a few of us at that moment. I spotted Nicole, that sexy Hispanic senior who was the president of the Celibacy Club. There was Fred of the Junior Journalists, wearing some kind of trench coat and I wondered why he hadn’t taken it off yet. I was about to go up to him and discuss the article for next week’s newsletter when someone sitting beside him caught my attention.

This girl gave off weird vibes. She was wearing really heavy eye shadow and her hair had dark blue highlights was a stark contrast to her pale, almost sickly looking skin. She was hugging this creepy-looking doll and at that instance, I knew that she must be Victoria. Ben was right – she definitely looked like someone you shouldn’t mess with. Maybe she tortured people with that voodoo doll of hers.

Next to her was … oh shit. Why did I not see this person before? He was the most gorgeous looking guy I’ve ever seen, not counting those guys in fashion magazines and stuff. Clichéd, I know, but my heart skipped a beat. He was wearing a plain, beige colored T-shirt and jeans. He had beautiful, bright green eyes and brown hair cut short, that was sort of combed forward and up. Even though he was sitting down, I knew he was taller than me.

Oh, did I mention that I was gay? But you probably had figured that out already. Unconsciously or consciously, I strode over and sat on the seat next to him. He turned around and smiled at me. He had nice teeth.

“Hi, Ryan,” he said.

I stared at his handsome face. “Hello. Have we met?”

“I eat here pretty often,” he said with a laugh. Damn, even his voice was sexy. “I’ve seen you here often, but I guess we haven’t talked.”

“I guess I didn’t notice, sorry.” Why didn’t I notice this guy? I should pay more attention to our customers.

He gave me another smile and extended his hand. “My name’s Michael. You’re Ryan Liu, right?”

I shook his hand, paying more attention to his fingers than I should have. He had a nice, warm grip. “Yeah, that’s me. Nice meeting you, Michael.”

Michael raised his eyebrows. “Could I have my hand back?” he chuckled.

Oh. “Sorry,” I said, quickly letting go of his hand.

“I’m the water polo team’s captain,” Michael told me, grinning. “I guess the Writing Club and the Water Polo Team don’t really mix well, huh? Maybe that’s why you haven’t really noticed me …”

So he was a swimmer. I wondered what he looked like without his shirt on.

Michael and I made small talk, but I really didn’t pay attention to what he was saying. I was more focused on staring at his face and listening to his voice instead. One by one, the presidents and leaders of the other clubs and sports teams came in.

Looking at their faces, it was pretty obvious that they were pretty confused as to what they were doing there as well. Obviously, if Victoria called us all here, it must be because of something important. Or not. I didn’t know what she was thinking, sitting there sulkily and staring at her plate.

When we were all present, Victoria lifted up that doll of hers and called for attention. We all fell silent, staring at her. She stared back at us with an empty gaze.

“You might be wondering why I gathered you all here,” she said slowly, her eyes flickering towards each of our faces. “I have come to discuss with you something of great importance.”

Bill, this huge giant of a guy who was the quarterback of our school’s football team, scoffed at her. “Oh great, here comes the crazy.”

Victoria put her doll down and pointed a stern finger at him. “Your stupidity could cost you your life, you fool. Anyway, I’ll get straight to the point. This is about that girl who was murdered in that high school on Monday.”

“That school’s like, on the other side of town, Victoria,” Nicole cut in. “I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. Anyway, we all have our own problems.”

There were murmurs of agreement throughout the table. I found our meeting kind of odd. I mean, I felt like I’m in an important meeting in an office somewhere. What was up with all this formality?

Victoria rolled her eyes at Nicole. “What problems do you have, Nicole? ‘Who’s the father?’” Nicole opened her mouth in protest, but creepy voodoo doll girl interrupted her. “I don’t want to argue. Didn’t you all read the newspaper or watch the news?”

Most of us shook our heads. Victoria turned to Fred. “Fred, I bet you watch the news.”

Fred nodded hesitantly, timidly. “Y-yeah.”

“Tell us all what happened.”

Fred’s frightful eyes wondered around the room. It looked like he was beginning to sweat. “Uh, yes. Okay. Well, the girl who was murdered was sent a text message an hour before she died. The message said something about targeting Mac Worthington after the murderer was through with her.”

That pretty much woke me up. “Why didn’t we hear about this from the teachers?”

Everyone suddenly began speaking at once, shouting, arguing. I turned to Michael. It was clear that he was just as disheveled as we were, but his face was pretty calm. I found myself even more attracted to him. Damn it, this was serious talk, why was I getting so uncomfortable in my pants?

Victoria slammed her fist on the table, causing everyone to jump. “Just shut up! God, I’m not stupid you know. The teachers were the very first people I talked to. They didn’t want any of us to know about it; they said it’d scare us or something.”

“Well, I guess I kind of get why they’d do that,” Nicole muttered.

“I kept trying to tell them to warn the rest of us,” Victoria continued. “But then Principal Gladys threatened to saturate my tulip garden with sulfuric acid. Long story short: the teachers aren’t going to help us.”

“Well, what do you expect us to do?” Bill grunted.

Victoria wrapped her arms around that freaky doll of hers. “We’re the leaders and presidents of every single club and team in Mac Worthington. We need to set an example. If we can spread the news to be more careful, I think it’d make everything a whole lot safer.”

“Won’t the teachers come at us if they find out?” I asked, trying to relieve the air of the tension.

Victoria shrugged. “It won’t matter. As long as the word is spread.”

Nicole let out a small laugh. “Easy for you to say. Why don’t you do this yourself?”

“I can’t do everything,” Victoria said, eyeing the president of the Celibacy Club with contempt. “That girl who was murdered? She was my cousin.”

An uncomfortable, choking silence followed Victoria’s voice. I looked at everyone’s faces. Everyone had the same, solemn expression. There must be something I could do about this …

“I think we should eat,” I blurted out. I signaled a passing waitress to bring in our food.

At the mention of food, everyone seemed to cheer up, which was a good thing. Especially Michael – his eyes practically lit up at the mention of food. Why was I paying so much attention to a guy I just met?

Several waiters wheeled in three carts piled with steamer baskets. In moments, our table was blanketed with plates and steamer baskets. Sure, I’ve eaten here so many times, but when you’re hungry, repetition of the same meal doesn’t really matter anymore.

I loved the smell of steaming shaomai; that aromatic smell coming from these little pork and shrimp wonders wrapped in wheat flour sheets was mouthwatering. The shrimp dumplings always came with soy sauce, or chili sauce, or both if you preferred. I definitely enjoyed the baked cha siu bao more than I should and the spring rolls were nothing short of heavenly. I normally ordered spicy, salt-and-pepper fried squid, but I figured maybe everyone else didn’t like things so spicy.

I could tell that some of the others didn’t eat much dim sum. Bill was watching a plate of phoenix claws very closely.

“Chicken feet,” I told him, and he gave me a horrified look. I picked one up with my chopsticks, staring at it lovingly. The dark red color was because of it being marinated in black bean sauce.

“Could you get one of those for me?” Michael asked me.

I was more than happy to serve him. I grabbed one and tossed it over to his plate, and he promptly ate it right then and there. He didn’t even seem to mind that I used my chopsticks.

At that moment, I was no longer noticing what I was doing, or what I was eating. Not when there was this gorgeous guy sitting right next to me. Normally, I wouldn’t really like watching people eat, but I was mesmerized. I watched for the slightest movements in his jaws, how his fingers expertly twirled those chopsticks, his teeth sinking into a delicious dumpling.

Oh great; dumplings. I suddenly remembered that peculiar dream I had about the giant dumpling. What a turn-off.

“Hey, Ryan,” somebody called.

I looked around and found the source of the voice. It was Artie Cello, the lead violinist of our school’s orchestra. I never liked the guy – he was always so smug and a bit of a show-off, although I admit, he was pretty good with that violin of his. Still, he could be one heck of an asshole at times. It never hurt to be a little humble.

“I’d like to order a hot dog – do you have one of those here?” he asked with a smirk.

I really didn’t feel like arguing, so I just glared at him. “We don’t serve that here, idiot.”

Artie gave me this irritating, smug grin. “Guess I’ll just have to order for delivery.”

Emma reached out with her huge fingers and grabbed Artie’s phone right out of his hands. “Shut up and eat, Artie,” she said without even looking at him. “You have to appreciate Chinese cuisine – I could never really replicate these spring rolls, at least in taste.”

She shook her head at me. “How do you make this sauce? It’s exquisite.”

Now, don’t get me wrong, Emma wasn’t ‘wide’. But she was big. She was taller than all of us – she was practically a giant. Oh, and she was the Head Chef of the Culinary Club.

Eventually, the activity died down. One by one, everyone began standing up, thanking me before leaving. I felt like a happy host – well, I guess I was. Everyone seemed to enjoy the meal more than their standard fare, even Artie did. Michael was patting his stomach and smiling happily.

“Did you enjoy the meal?” I asked him, gazing dreamily into his eyes. They had some kind of twinkle in them; maybe it was the way they reflected the light, like they were shining.

“I sure did, Ryan,” he said, beaming. “I think the best thing I’ll do next is to go back home and sleep.”

I was about to suggest him sleeping with me, but I thought that would be rather distasteful, since we just met. I simply nodded instead.

Eventually, only Victoria, Michael and remained – everyone else had already left. Victoria stood up and strode over behind us.

“Michael, Ryan,” she said slowly, “You guys need to be careful. The murderer could still be out there.”

“How did your cousin get murdered, anyway?” Michael asked.

“A single gunshot to the chest,” Victoria mumbled, shaking her head sadly. “Some people have already begun calling the killer the ‘Gunner’. That was the name he or she took on when she sent Elizabeth that message.”

“Are you going to be okay?” I said, feeling genuinely concerned for her. Sure, she was creepy as hell, but I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her.

“I will be, but we all need to be a little more cautious,” she sighed. “I’m going to head back home now. Maybe I’ll tail Fred until he reaches his house just in case.”

Okay, I decided to keep labeling her as creepy voodoo doll girl slash stalker.

Michael bent over and leaned towards me. I fought the urge to grab his head and make out with him right then and there.

“Uh, I don’t have a ride back home,” he said, somewhat shyly. “Could you drop me off at my house?”

Sure, Michael, as long as I get to grope you. “Sure, Michael. I gotta tell my dad first, though.”

Dad worked longer at the restaurant than mom did, but mom did most of the taking care of the house stuff, and also taking care of Anna and I. I found my dad in the kitchen and waved at him to get his attention. He was busy chopping up onions at a blinding pace.

“Dad, I gotta drop off a friend at his house. I’ll be home before ten.”

“Okay, Ryan,” he called back absently. I wondered whether he even heard what I told him. He was always so focused on his cooking.

Friday, somewhere in the streets, 21:04

It was difficult to focus on the wheel and the road when there was a hot guy sitting next to me on the passenger seat. Okay, maybe I wasn’t trying my best to ignore him, but when someone like Michael was in your car, it could get pretty distracting.

“So, you really haven’t seen me in the restaurant?” Michael asked me. In the corner of my eyes, I could spot his smile; it was like the sun’s rays piercing through the darkness in the dawn. Shit, that sounded corny.

“No, I guess not,” I replied sheepishly. I was asking myself the same question.

For some reason, I started sweating when he looked at me. “I see you there often. You’re usually doing your homework or writing something.”

I shrugged, trying to appear casual. It was pretty damn hard. “I take my writing very seriously.”

“I think it’s really cool that you want to be an author in the future,” Michael said. I was used to this kind of praise, but coming from Michael, it warmed me more than it should have. “If you ever publish a book, remind me to buy a copy.”

“Thanks, Michael.”

“Just call me Mike, Ryan.”

I turned into an unfamiliar road. Well, it wasn’t really unfamiliar; I just never drove around this area often. In the back of my head, I knew I was trying to memorize the roads. Who knows, the knowledge of where Michael lived could be useful in the future.

“H-hey, Ryan, slow down,” Michael said suddenly, sounding worried.

Was something on the road? Maybe I had almost run over a dog or a cat or something.

“What is it?”

He pointed at something to the side of the road ahead of us. “Isn’t that Fred’s car? What is he doing here? He doesn’t live around here.”

I couldn’t help feeling slightly uneasy. This was beginning to be a bit alarming. I couldn’t help feeling this slight sense of dread that was rising up from somewhere in my stomach. Oh God, I hoped I wouldn’t throw up; not now, not in front of Michael.

I pulled over behind Fred’s car. The headlights and all were still on, but the door to the driver’s seat was wide opened. It was pretty dark, so I couldn’t really see much of our surroundings.

We both got out of the car wordlessly. I prayed that nothing had happened. My hands were beginning to shake. I kept telling myself that it was probably nothing …

“Fred? You there?” Michael called out, not too loud, but loud enough to be heard. He ducked and looked inside the car.

“Nope, he’s not here.”

I wasn’t even listening anymore. My eyes were glued to something on the street path. It was a long trail of something dark, liquid, sticky …

And then the stench hit me. “M-Michael … is that what I think it is?” My voice had shrunk a million times.

“What the hell …” Michael’s voice trailed away in dumbstruck shock. He walked forward slowly.

“Michael,” I whispered. “This is …”

He was a few feet ahead of me, his head leaning forward, peering into the darkness. And then suddenly, his body froze.

“Michael, seriously man, what –”

When I was beside him, he turned around and stared at me with horror. Squinting, I tried to find what Michael had seen. And then I wished I hadn’t.

It was Fred, lying on the grass against the fence of a nearby yard. It was obvious that the life had been snuffed out of him. I could see that sickly color of death on his pale face, his eyes staring off into nothingness. My eyes followed down his body at his coat. It was drenched in something dark …

Blood. There was so much blood … so much blood. I felt like I was going to puke. And then everything got blurry and the only thing I remembered clearly was Michael calling out my name …