Defector, 13, torn between two countries

The eighth-grader at Amherst Regional Middle School prefers to think about what she can control within her current life: Will she ever overcome her aversion to the American lettuce salad? What do you wear to a friend's celebration called a bat mitzvah? Will she ever join the masses of girls in her school who have pierced ears?

"I'm afraid of the pain!" said Yu-kun during her first interview since coming to the United States.

It was only 15 months ago that Yu-kun (pronounced Yoo-kwen) was the terrified child from China who had become the target of an intensive US search. On Aug. 1, 2002, she was reported missing from a Chinese youth group that had just landed at San Francisco International Airport on a school trip. Federal and state law enforcement authorities went on high alert, propelled by recent reports of other high-profile child abductions. Yu-kun's passport picture, showing her with a smile, her black hair pulled back in a ponytail, was splashed across television stations and newspapers.

But massive concern soon gave way to massive confusion. Within days, authorities responding to a tip found Yu-kun safe in a working-class apartment in Amherst with her paternal aunt, uncle, and their baby.

Her uncle had picked her up at a prearranged spot at the airport, and accompanied her on a flight to Massachusetts, where Yu-kun was reunited with her father. Bing Jia was in the country illegally because he had overstayed his tourist visa. Yu-kun wasn't the Chinese girl who was kidnapped, but the Chinese girl who was -- along with her aunt, uncle, and father -- seeking political asylum.

Since then, the family has put forth a legal case that has had some success in the US immigration system, saying their opposition to China's one-child policy has caused them to suffer persecution, as well as potential future punishment. By last year, roughly 10,000 Chinese immigrants had obtained political asylum based on China's population-control policy restricting couples to one child, federal officials said.

Yu-kun's lawyer, Shen-Shin Lu of Boston, said Yu-kun's mother had two documented forced abortions. With that past, plus the publicity around Yu-kun's case that embarrassed the Chinese government, the girl and her family cannot return safely to China, Lu said.

"This girl is being treated as a traitor," said Lu. "If she goes back to China, she will have no future at all."

Because of the legal and political sensitivities around the case, Lu has prohibited Yu-kun from speaking publicly about any events prior to her arrival in Amherst and any aspects of her legal case. Her aunt and uncle also have requested that their names not be published. But in her interview, Yu-kun talked about her early days in the United States. Hordes of journalists, she recalled, circled outside her family's first-floor Amherst apartment, peering into the curtainless windows to catch a glimpse of the mysterious defector. Chinese diplomats in this country demanded to speak to her, even as her attorney fended off the requests.

"I was very scared," said Yu-kun, preferring to speak in Mandarin. "I was terrified."

To this day, Yu-kun panics at the thought of being photographed. She declined to have her picture taken, though she agreed to provide a picture taken of her earlier this year by her relatives.

When the media circus finally subsided, Yu-kun then worried about attending US public schools, especially given her rudimentary English. Reared in a small Chinese village, with little exposure to the outside world, Yu-kun feared that her teachers and classmates would scorn her or hold her in silent contempt.

"I thought they'd look down on the Chinese," she said.

But the faculty and students at Amherst Regional Middle School welcomed her warmly, Yu-kun said. She is rapidly learning English and last year had a report card with five A's and two B's. She also is far from the only Asian face in the crowd. In this school of 700 students, roughly 30 percent are minorities, including 10 percent Asian. Yu-kun has become friendly with many of her Chinese-speaking classmates, as well as others who have introduced her to instant messaging, hip-hop dancing, and shopping malls.

One of her drawings from last year -- showing a panda bear, Chinese inscriptions, and other symbols of her native land -- was recently published in a book about US multicultural education.

In affidavits in Yu-kun's legal case, teachers have described her as a student who has adjusted well to adolescent life in America and who hopes to remain. "She speaks proudly of her home country, but she speaks just as proudly of her future in the United States," said one instructor.

Most of the time, Yu-kun appears to be a cheerful girl, her long black hair falling naturally over her shoulders. While she favors blue jeans and thick-heeled shoes, she ignores other youth fashion trends. She believes that outfits that reveal a girl's tummy are "immodest." She also doesn't understand why some boys don't wear their pants higher on their waist.

"Sometimes it's so low you can see their underwear!" she said.

But while Yu-kun laughs easily about some of her efforts to adjust to American life, she turns quiet and somber when talking about her mother, who remains in their rural village in Xi'an in eastern central China. Her mother's only child, Yu-kun talks to her mother regularly, sharing updates on her life in America.

"I call her once a week, at least," said Yu-kun, who hopes in time her mother will join her in the United States, even as her own case remains in question.

At the moment, Yu-kun lives in a small but neatly-arranged one-bedroom apartment with her father, aunt, uncle, and their toddler child. Her father works at a Chinese restaurant in a nearby town, so he is often not home. If she isn't with friends after school or studying in the library, Yu-kun spends her time at home helping with chores, watching television, and sending e-mail to friends.

She also is busy absorbing American movies, renting videos of children's classics such as "Beauty and the Beast," "Snow White," and "Aladdin." She finds them easier to understand because they use simpler English. Recently, Yu-kun saw "Finding Nemo" and began weeping during one recurring scene.

"I cried when the father was looking for his son," Yu-kun said.

Patricia Wen can be reached at wen@globe.com.