Alistair

• Miah McDermid, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2022

Everything moved in slow motion as I launched myself at the table. I pulled my weapon from my pocket, and as the thud of my cargo boots echoed though the room, I swung. Not a second to soon.
When I opened my restaurant in the morning, remnant flavors of Chinese food wafted to my nose, dumplings, and stir-fries. Walking In I was surprised to see a wizened old man with a long white beard and a gnarled walking stick sitting at one of my tables.
The man spoke. “Hello Suzie, do you remember me?” Uncle Alistair. His voice was lined with the distinct Chinese dialect of the province where my mother and father grew up. He came from my mother’s side of the family, the Piangs, who fable said where tricksters, cheats, and swindlers. Yet as far as I could tell, Alistair was the only person who kept the stories alive, a snake to his core. He spent a weekend at our house one time and destroyed all order in our lives. “How could I forget you!” I snapped.
“Leave me alone” I told him pointedly, but he laughed, and started reciting a folklore about the good luck of putting coins into dumplings. I couldn’t make him leave.
At midday I was finishing the final part of the menu, making dumplings. Yet halfway through, Alistair came to my bench and bent over my work. “What are you doing” I whispered under my breath.
“Suspicious minds are not suited to Piangs, my dear Suzie.” He replied. “You and I are normally the ones causing suspicion, are we not? “And then he left.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the impact of his words for the next hour. Then I realized that Uncle Alistair must have tricked me somehow. I went to the dining room and pulled him to a corner. “What did you do?” I asked.
“Only a Piang can call a Piang’s trick. Do you choose the pride of pretending you’re not one, or your restaurant?” he challenged
I didn’t have time to listen. I had to save my livelihood. Time slowed as I thought. If it affected the restaurant, it must be about food, so he did it when he was in the kitchen. In the kitchen he saw dumplings… COINS! I looked up and saw a customer raise a dumpling to his mouth.
I dived and grabbed my chopsticks as I landed on the round table, knocking the dumpling out from near his mouth with the sticks. The entire restaurant turned to look at me.
I thought quickly and addressed the room. “As part of Chinese tradition, coins are often put in dumplings. We decided to do this today! It’s also good luck to not eat the first dumpling!’’. I was lying through my teeth, but I smiled, and the tension lifted.
I got down from the table and looked for Alistair, but he had already left, leaving a note which said Suzie Piang.