P.K., Part 1

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P.K.
by Asiansmoke

Part 1

    My name is Rachel Wong. I am an ABC (American born chinese) born on Long
Island in August of 1988. My birthday is actually a very lucky one. The
Chinese people believe the number '8' is the luckiest number, and I was born
in the eighth month of the eighty-eighth year. From a young age, my very
proud parents have had special plans for me, undoubtedly trusting that I am
born a blessed child because of all those "eighth's".

   I am not here to disagree with them.

   Let me tell you a little about myself first. I grew up mostly alone, my
mom didn't give birth to my baby brother until 1999. There is over a ten-year
gap between Caleb and I. I'm average height for my age, I have a nice smile,
and on the odd occasion, when challenged, I can be a little competitive. You
will learn that from me a little later.

   My father is a Minister, a Pastor in a fundamentalist Church. You know the
kind: Only the King James version of the Bible will do. No cursing, no
alcohol, no smoking, no dancing. He claims certain TV evangelists are
heretics...and so on. He's been a Pastor since 1991, which means ever since I
can remember. He started out as an Associate Pastor in a different
fundamentalist church when we lived in New York. That was a Chinese church
and the only church I ever knew up to that point in my life. I loved that
church. I had all my friends there. I still continue to miss them.

   We left that church, eventually, just after Christmas in 2002, a little
over a year ago. My dad told me he felt called to be a head Pastor in a
different church, way out in California. My mom told me we really left the
church in New York due to church politics. Regardless of the real reason, we
moved from Long Island to San Francisco on December 29,  2002. I recall at
the time that I was the only one who didn't want to relocate. Those thoughts
were confirmed on the flight in to San Fran. The airport is so near to the
water. I thought we were going to land in the water and die!

   The second reason I hated it was that ten times more people at church in
San Francisco called me P.K. The adults called me P.K. all the time (P.K. is
short form for "Pastor's kid". It can be common for Pastor's kids to be
called P.K.) I hate it when people call me P.K.! I'm Rachel! Get with the
program already.

  Oh, and another thing. Because my father is a pastor, I had to change the
name of the city we now live, in my story. I wouldn't want to get the Church
in trouble.

   Unlike the Chinese church in New York state, which tended to be very
isolated from the rest of the world, this new church (which isn't a Chinese
church, all races and cultures worship here) reached out to the neighborhood
around them. And that's how I met my first friend there, Maria Gonsalez. She
wasn't a Christian, but she was interested in the Bible. I met her in late
January of 2003. Maria's parents never attended church, but they thought it
was a good idea to get their daughter to go and learn the good moral values
the church teaches.

    Maria and I were quite different in many ways, but we had two things in
common: we loved to laugh and we liked the Simpsons. Maria introduced me to
the Simpsons and I watched it whenever I could at her place (I wasn't allowed
to watch it at home. My dad calls it 'filth that is polluting the world
around us')

    It wasn't until late spring or early summer that we hung around together
more.  My dad had concerns that Maria didn't come from a Christian family,
but since she was just about the only girl my age at the church who came
regularly to fellowship, so he let me hang out with her.  My dad was hoping
I'd convert Maria to Christianity. I was happy to hang out with someone who
might introduce to many worldly things.

End of Part 1

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