He probably sees my surprise. “A wild guess,” he says, a smile of embarrassment on his face, but only for a second. “Anything you can tell me about your family?” he asks casually.
I don’t think that question is on the list, and I’m reluctant to talk about my family with anyone. “I live with my mother,” I say stupidly.
“Any siblings?”
“No.”
“What about your father?” He leans forward, looking intensely curious.
“He’s dead,” I say simply. It would sound absurd if I tell him my secret suspicion that my father is alive.
“How. . . never mind.” It seems he wants to poke further but apparently checks himself. He looks pensive, his eyes never leaving my face. “I’m sorry,” he adds.
I don’t know what to say, and I don’t like the pity in his voice. His curiosity about my family is puzzling, as if he’s more interested in finding out about them than testing my English. I wait for him to change the subject.
看到我吃惊的样子，他说，”我乱猜的。” 脸上有一点窘迫的笑容，但仅持续了一秒钟。”你可以谈一谈家里的情况吗，”他显得挺随便的问。
这个问题肯定不在考试题里，况且我非常不愿意跟任何人谈我的家庭。
“家里就我和我妈妈，” 我说。
“没有兄弟姊妹吗？”
“没有。”
“你的父亲呢?”
“他死了.”
我当然不能告诉他我爸爸还活着的理论，那就太荒唐了。
“他怎么。。。？”他开口问，但是又停住了。”没关系。对不起，” 他轻轻地说，他的眼睛好像若有所思的样子。
我不知道再说什么，我不喜欢他声音里的怜悯，也被他对我家庭的好奇所疑惑。他是在考我的英文呢，还是更想知道我家里的情况？我等他换一个话题。
He turns the exam list facedown. “Forget about the dumb questions. Let’s just chat,” he says. “Tell me a thing or two that happened recently in the world, something interesting.” He leans back in his seat.
The wheels in my brain spin but churn out nothing satisfactory. Then I remember the recent news I read in the Colorful Culture magazine.
“My favorite Taiwanese author—her pen name was Thirty Cents—hung herself in her study after promising her elderly parents that she wouldn’t commit suicide. I am deeply saddened by her death.”
“I am so sorry to hear that,” he says, looking honest. “So you like reading?”
“Yes,” I say, delighted we have arrived at this subject. “I started reading when I was four-years old.”
“What have you read?”
It could take me a whole hour to list all the books that I’ve read. Unfortunately, I have trouble translating them into English. “Dreams in the Red Mansion, 108 Warriors, The Guerrillas on the Railroad, which is a revolutionary war novel, and—”
He interrupts me. “Have you read Western literature?”
Jane Eyre is the only thing Western I have read, and the young governess the first Western heroine, but instinctively I want to keep her a secret from the American.
“No. Western literature is hard to come by.”
他把考试题反过来放到桌子上。 “这些考试题太无聊了。 咱们说些有趣的，“ 他说，往后靠在椅背上。 ”告诉我一两件最近世界上发生的新鲜事儿。“
我脑子里的鼓轮在转，但是没什么结果。然后我想起了最近在"多彩文化"杂志上看到的一个消息。
“我最喜欢的一个台湾作家，笔名叫三毛，最近在她的书房里上吊了。尽管他她答应过他她的父母不去自杀，”我说，“我为她的离世非常伤心。”
“为你难过，” 他说。稍后又说，“你喜欢读书啊。”
“是啊，”我说，很高兴谈到了读书这个话题。”我从四岁就开始读了。”
“你都读过什么书？” 他问。
我把我所有读过的书的名字告诉他起码要花一个小时。何况我不会把它们都翻译成英语。红楼梦，水浒传，将铁道游击队，我告诉了他这几个书名。
“你读过西方文学吗？” 他问。
简爱是我唯一读的西方文学小说，这个年仅十八岁的女家庭教师也
我第一个认识的西方女主角。但是这是我的秘密，不想告诉这个篮球Luke。
我没读过什么西方文学，” 我说，“那些书不容易得到。”
“I see.” He taps his fingers on the desk. “Do you watch the news or read the newspapers at all?”
I’m caught by surprise with the abrupt shift of topic. And the way he has phrased his question sounds as if my reading novels is suddenly a demerit.
“No. I don’t really watch the news or read the newspapers,” I reply in a small voice, not ready to admit that I am too deeply immersed in fiction.
“How do you keep up with the real world, then?” He looks serious.
I am going to flunk the test. My bright future is dimming. Tears well up in my eyes. I stand still and remain mute before the American. My only brain activity at the moment involves comparing him to the overbearing Mr. Rochester. Jane Eyre’s hero is not the archetype of good-looking men; he is described, with Jane Eyre’s fond tone, as almost ugly. My fake American teacher, Luke, might look just like him, with his massive head and disproportionately long limbs.
And, his mothball-pepper smell offends my nose.
“Do you ever wish to go to America?” he asks, running his eyes over me.
The question seems sudden, unconnected with anything he’s asked so far. I’m fascinated by America, Hollywood, for one thing, but the thought of going to America never crossed my mind. Traversing the ocean to the other side of the hemisphere is like a fairy tale. But saying I’ve never fancied about visiting America may not sound courteous to an American. I’m stuck, my face turning hot.
“If you don’t wish to answer that question. . . ” he pauses in mid-sentence, but looks at me with his head tilted to the side, clearly waiting for me to answer anyway.
He must know that it’s irrelevant whether I wish to go to America or not; because I can’t.
“是这样吗？”他用手指敲了敲桌子。“你看新闻或者读报吗？“
我没防备他突然转话题。“我不怎么看报纸和新闻，” 我低声的说，很不情愿的承认了我只深深的埋在小说虚幻的世界里。
“那你怎么跟得上现实生活呢？” 他看上去有点严肃。
我没有回答，在想，也许这次考试我不会及格了，我的光明前途在暗淡下去。眼泪在我眼睛里转圈儿。我一动不动像哑巴一样站在这个美国人面前。现在我脑子里的唯一活动是把他和简爱里的男主人公，傲慢的罗切斯特先生比较。简爱以掩饰不住的爱抚的语调说罗切斯特先生并不是标准的美男子。此刻，我想我的美国老师Luke可能长得就像他,。大脑袋和过分悠长的四肢。
他身上那股卫生球和四川辣椒的气味还在侵袭我的鼻孔。
“你想不想到美国去，” 他突然问，上下打量着我。
这个问题太突然了。我对美国很着迷，比方说好莱坞。但我从来没有去美国的想法。漂洋过海到地球的另一个半球听起来像一个童话。如果对一个美国人说我从来没想过要去美国，可能会显得不客气。我卡壳了，我的脸开始发烧。
“如果你不想回答这个问题。 。 。 ” 他没说完就停住了， 但却歪着头看我，好像在等我回答。
他难道不明白我想不想去美国是个无意义的问题吗？反正我去不了。
I feel indignant, which emboldens me. Perhaps I should—before the “super-power imperialist” American attacks me again—counterattack. Desperate, I grab a line from Jane Eyre that I like.
“Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain and little, I am soulless and heartless?” I recite Jane Eyre’s words fluently, and find myself moved by them.
“You are poor. . . and plain, Huh? What the heck. . .?”
Mr. Rochester would have said, “So, Jane?” to which Jane Eyre would say, “Yes so. And yet not so!”
Luke squirms in his chair, wordless. I look him in the eye, gloating at his stupefied expression.
I glance at Professor Liang’s desk on the other side of the room. His students are being let go quickly. Why should I be the only one detained like this? Maybe this young American enjoys toying with students to release his vengeance on the professors who most cruelly toyed with him?
“I am a free human being with an independent will, which I now exert to leave you,” I announce, with as much passion as Jane Eyre.
Luke stays perfectly still, with the same dumbfounded look on his face. Suddenly, he starts to laugh.
“Okay, Okay. You can leave of course. Don’t’ be so serious,” he says between laughs. “See you around, Chang—,” he tries to pronounce my name but fails miserably. “I mean Maiden-in-the-Moon.”
我很生气，怒气给我壮了胆。也许我应该再在美帝在再进攻以前反攻。绝望时，我随便从简爱里面抓了一句台词：“你以为我穷，没有地位，长得又丑又小,我就没有心没有灵魂吗？”我背简爱的这句话很流利，把我自己也感动了。
“什么？ 你很穷？很丑？你在说什么。见鬼。。。。”篮球Luke非常疑惑不解。
罗切斯特先生说的是，“是这样吗，简爱？”
简爱的回答是，“就是这样。同时，又不是这样!”
Luke 的舌头显然被绑住了，在椅子里很不舒服的动着。我第一次直视他的眼睛，得意的看着他傻乎乎的样子。我看了一下教室对面那些学生，很快的，一个一个考完了。为什么我还在这里被审问？这个美国人难道以为只有捉弄学生才使他像一个老师吗？
我又想起了简爱里的一句话：“我是一个自由的人，我的自由意志让我马上毫不犹豫地离开你。”
篮球Luke 一动也不动，脸上还是那个痴呆的样子。忽然，他哈哈大笑了起来。“OK，OK，你当然可一走了。 别那么严肃啊。”他笑着说，“下次见， 嫦—”他没有把我的名字说完，惨兮兮的，最后只好该说，“奥，月亮。”大概“女” 字 他更发不出来。
这本小说 可以在这里买到：https://www.amazon.com/s?k=girl+at+dawn&ref=nb_sb_noss_1
