一辆黑色轿车在华盛顿特区外蜿蜒的道路上行驶,轮胎踩在沥青上的嗡嗡声打破了黎明前的寂静.克里斯托弗·陈（Christopher Chen）紧贴着乘客车窗,看着路灯像坠落的星星一样闪烁而过.他的眼镜随着每一次呼吸而起雾,弄脏了他自己脸上的倒影——苍白,睁大眼睛,被厚厚的镜片框住.在他旁边,Alex Wang 紧握着方向盘,指关节发白,他的沉默像黑夜一样沉重.
三个小时前,克里斯托弗还在宿舍里睡着了,梦见了俄亥俄州的农田.现在,他坐在陌生人的车里,回放着 Alex 把他从书店拖出来的那一刻,刹车的尖锐声,以及他身体撞在人行道上发出的令人作呕的砰砰声.这段记忆让他的手腕抽痛,Alex 的抓握在那里留下了瘀伤.
"我们要去哪里?"Christopher 的声音沙哑.
Alex 没有看过去."安静的地方."
车子转入一条土路,车头灯照亮了风化的谷仓.克里斯托弗的心怦怦直跳.他想象着如果他母亲知道他被一个像标本一样盯着他的男人从校园里拉出来,她的脸是什么样子.你比这更好,他告诉自己,回想起他桌上装裱的奖学金证书——证明他可以逃离俄亥俄州的那张.
Alex 停了下来,杀死了引擎.在突如其来的寂静中,克里斯托弗听到了蟋蟀的叫声和远处猫头鹰的叫声."出去,"Alex 说.
当 Christopher 踏入黑夜时,冷空气袭来.他跟着亚历克斯来到谷仓,月光透过腐烂的木板.屋内,干草覆盖着地板,一个孤零零的球茎从椽子上摆动.Alex 在一个木箱前停了下来,示意 Christopher 坐下.
"我需要你明白一些事情,"Alex 开始低声说."我已经三年没睡过觉了.没有一整夜.他踱步,影子在墙壁上跳舞."但当我找到你时...那天晚上在书店...多年来,我第一次感到疲惫.
Christopher 的头脑飞速运转.这是恶作剧吗?威胁?他记得Alex在课堂上盯着他看的样子,那种让他感到不舒服的强度."我不——"
"闭嘴."Alex跪下,抓住Christopher的肩膀."我不是在问.你会和我住在一起,你会帮我睡觉.否则我会确保你永远不要毕业.
恐惧爬上了 Christopher 的脊椎.他想起了他父亲饱经风霜的双手,想起了莉莉等待付款的婚纱."好吧,"他低声说,讨厌他声音中的颤抖."我来做."
Alex 松开了他,站了起来."很好.现在上车.
当他们开车回城时,克里斯托弗盯着窗外的倒影,想知道他美好生活的梦想何时变成了一场噩梦.黎明的第一缕曙光将地平线染成粉红色,但他只感到黑暗正在逼近.
Christopher Chen 最早的记忆是他母亲的双手——干农活时粗糙,她温柔地为 Lily 编辫子.在俄亥俄州的小镇上,梦想是用玉米蒲式耳或进入县学校的儿子数量来衡量的.对 Christopher 来说,梦想一直很明确:逃离泥泞的道路,在一个夜晚灯火通明的城市上大学.
到 16 岁时,他在县第二中学的宿舍里度过了 6 年,与其他 15 个男孩共用一个铺位.房间里弥漫着汗水和廉价洗涤剂的味道,但克里斯托弗并不介意.他把自己埋在课本里,在熄灯后很久才用手电筒学习.他的兄弟哈里森和凯文嘲笑他厚重的眼镜和安静的举止,但克里斯托弗知道他们只是嫉妒他的专注.
陈家杂货店成了他们的出场券.最初是厨房墙上的彩绘招牌——歪扭扭字母中的"杂货店"——发展成真正的生意,向路过的卡车司机出售罐头食品和香烟.他的母亲数算每一分钱,为儿子们上大学的那一天存钱.
"克里斯托弗,来帮忙清点库存,"她会喊道,他会丢掉他的书,堆起一罐罐豆子.他讨厌这份工作,但当顾客称赞他的算术时,他母亲的骄傲使他感到可以忍受.
When Harrison got into a community college in Atlanta, the township celebrated. Christopher, however, failed his college entrance exam. The news hit him like a punch, but his mother just patted his back. "You'll try again," she said. "We Chen's don't quit."
So he repeated senior year, alongside Kevin. The second time, he scored high enough for a junior college in Washington D.C. The day he got the letter, his father cried—something Christopher had never seen before.
Packing his red suitcase, Christopher stood in the doorway of the general store. His mother pressed a wad of cash into his hand. "For emergencies," she said, tears in her eyes. "Call home every week."
The bus ride to D.C. felt like a pilgrimage. Christopher stared out the window, imagining tall buildings and libraries full of books. He'd heard stories of city kids who wore sneakers that cost more than their family's monthly income, but he didn't care. He was here to learn, to prove that a boy from Ohio could make it.
His dormitory at the junior college was a shock—four bunk beds in a room half the size of the general store. He shared a drawer with a boy from New York who listened to music Christopher had never heard. But Christopher didn't mind the noise or the crowded showers. He was where he'd always wanted to be.
Classes started, and Christopher threw himself into his studies. He took notes in neat cursive, visited the library every day, and avoided parties. His frugality became a joke—he bought day-old bread from the campus bakery, mended his own clothes—but Christopher didn't care. He was saving every dollar for textbooks and the occasional call home.
One evening, after a long day of classes, Christopher wandered to a bookstore near campus. He lost track of time reading about American history, only looking up when the owner cleared his throat. "We're closing," the man said.
Stepping outside, Christopher realized how late it was. The campus back gate was locked, so he headed for the front, hugging his textbooks. As he crossed the street, a car's headlights blinded him. The next thing he knew, he was waking up in a stranger's car, staring at a man named Alex who would change his life forever.