vendor’s cart to look over the sea of black heads to the empty tracks.
“Saburo! Saburo!” Toru’s face popped up out of the crowd, and he waved.
I scrambled down, and he pulled me by the arm through the crowd and out of the station. A jeep was waiting at the curb, engine running, and Toru ushered me into the backseat between him and Jiro, who looked out the window with a stick clutched in his hand. His eyes were wide and scared, his other fist clenched so the muscles in his arms bulged. The Taoyuan magistrate sat at the wheel, my father and Kazuo squished beside him.
Toru slammed the door shut.
“What’s the stick for?” I whispered to Jiro.
“In case we need to fight. You should get something, too.”
I pictured him in the street, all muscle and male instinct. All I had in my bag was a pencil. Even my schoolbooks had been taken away.
“Okay,” my father said, glancing around, his eyes fearsome. I had no doubt he could have commanded an army. “Let’s go.”
The magistrate pulled away from the curb. “Let’s try this way.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Riots,” Toru said. “The police beat up a Taiwanese woman for selling foreign cigarettes without a license last night. People saw it and went crazy, attacked the police. And the police fired back.”
The jeep swerved and stopped suddenly, jamming me into Jiro. His stick whacked me in the chin. I cried out at the pain.
“ Aiyo! ” In the street in front of us, a truck blazed, flames roaring out of its windows. People ran past us on either side, away from the fire. The acrid smell of burning oil filled the jeep.
“Let’s go! Let’s go!” my father said.
The magistrate turned the jeep around and drove on, and I leaned into Toru.
“We can get out this way. Look!” The magistrate indicated a crowd gathering to our left in front of a large building. “The governor’s mansion! I’ve heard they’ve taken the Monopoly Bureau, too. The workers just gave up and left.”
“Hm!” my father said. “Went home to get their guns. Let’s not be stupid. Come on, this isn’t a sightseeing tour.”
But the magistrate paused, hands on the steering wheel, head cocked. The crowd was singing.
“Listen!” the magistrate said. “It’s ‘Repairing the Fisherman’s Net.’ ”
Looking at the net, my eyes redden—such a hole!
I want to repair it but have not a thing . . .
“Let’s go!” my father cried out. “ Kianh-kianh! ”
“Taiwan’s only happy folk song,” Toru said quietly.
The magistrate laughed, obviously stirred as the crowd continued. “Happy?”
Who knows my pain?
If we let it go today, our future is hopeless . . .
“The last stanza,” Toru said. “She fixes it.”
“ Kianh-kianh! ” My father shouted, reaching for the steering wheel.
“ Bien-la. Bien-la. We’re going.” The magistrate wheeled the car around. “I still think you should join the Settlement Committee,” the magistrate said to my father, pushing up his glasses. “I think the people have shown their will and we might be able to get Chen Yi to—”
“Enough!” my father said. “A minnow does not negotiate with a shark! Who cares about words when they have Chiang’s army across the strait?”
As they argued, Toru whispered to me, “Where were you? We went to your school to pick you up, but you weren’t there.”
For a couple of moments I had forgotten about being expelled. Now I remembered again, and shame washed over me. What would Toru think of me now? I had failed more completely than I ever thought possible. I looked up at him, but he was now peering out the window.
“Wait!” he said suddenly. “Stop the car! Someone’s injured.”
The magistrate braked, but my father roared, “No! Drive on! We don’t even know who it is!”
“It doesn’t matter!” Toru said.
“Of course it does!”
I peered out the window. A small group of people were clustered around someone lying on the ground.
“If it’s a Mainlander,
“Saburo! Saburo!” Toru’s face popped up out of the crowd, and he waved.
I scrambled down, and he pulled me by the arm through the crowd and out of the station. A jeep was waiting at the curb, engine running, and Toru ushered me into the backseat between him and Jiro, who looked out the window with a stick clutched in his hand. His eyes were wide and scared, his other fist clenched so the muscles in his arms bulged. The Taoyuan magistrate sat at the wheel, my father and Kazuo squished beside him.
Toru slammed the door shut.
“What’s the stick for?” I whispered to Jiro.
“In case we need to fight. You should get something, too.”
I pictured him in the street, all muscle and male instinct. All I had in my bag was a pencil. Even my schoolbooks had been taken away.
“Okay,” my father said, glancing around, his eyes fearsome. I had no doubt he could have commanded an army. “Let’s go.”
The magistrate pulled away from the curb. “Let’s try this way.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Riots,” Toru said. “The police beat up a Taiwanese woman for selling foreign cigarettes without a license last night. People saw it and went crazy, attacked the police. And the police fired back.”
The jeep swerved and stopped suddenly, jamming me into Jiro. His stick whacked me in the chin. I cried out at the pain.
“ Aiyo! ” In the street in front of us, a truck blazed, flames roaring out of its windows. People ran past us on either side, away from the fire. The acrid smell of burning oil filled the jeep.
“Let’s go! Let’s go!” my father said.
The magistrate turned the jeep around and drove on, and I leaned into Toru.
“We can get out this way. Look!” The magistrate indicated a crowd gathering to our left in front of a large building. “The governor’s mansion! I’ve heard they’ve taken the Monopoly Bureau, too. The workers just gave up and left.”
“Hm!” my father said. “Went home to get their guns. Let’s not be stupid. Come on, this isn’t a sightseeing tour.”
But the magistrate paused, hands on the steering wheel, head cocked. The crowd was singing.
“Listen!” the magistrate said. “It’s ‘Repairing the Fisherman’s Net.’ ”
Looking at the net, my eyes redden—such a hole!
I want to repair it but have not a thing . . .
“Let’s go!” my father cried out. “ Kianh-kianh! ”
“Taiwan’s only happy folk song,” Toru said quietly.
The magistrate laughed, obviously stirred as the crowd continued. “Happy?”
Who knows my pain?
If we let it go today, our future is hopeless . . .
“The last stanza,” Toru said. “She fixes it.”
“ Kianh-kianh! ” My father shouted, reaching for the steering wheel.
“ Bien-la. Bien-la. We’re going.” The magistrate wheeled the car around. “I still think you should join the Settlement Committee,” the magistrate said to my father, pushing up his glasses. “I think the people have shown their will and we might be able to get Chen Yi to—”
“Enough!” my father said. “A minnow does not negotiate with a shark! Who cares about words when they have Chiang’s army across the strait?”
As they argued, Toru whispered to me, “Where were you? We went to your school to pick you up, but you weren’t there.”
For a couple of moments I had forgotten about being expelled. Now I remembered again, and shame washed over me. What would Toru think of me now? I had failed more completely than I ever thought possible. I looked up at him, but he was now peering out the window.
“Wait!” he said suddenly. “Stop the car! Someone’s injured.”
The magistrate braked, but my father roared, “No! Drive on! We don’t even know who it is!”
“It doesn’t matter!” Toru said.
“Of course it does!”
I peered out the window. A small group of people were clustered around someone lying on the ground.
“If it’s a Mainlander,
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