Текст книги "Mambo in Chinatown"

Автор книги: Jean Kwok

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Katerina shrugged. “Why would you not?”

Mateo said, “Honey, even I have slept with my partners. I couldn’t stomach it anymore. That’s why I stopped competing, until I met Chastity-Belt Nina here.”

Nina drew a cross over her body, then pretended to lock herself up and throw away the key. “No one gets into these pants anymore. Your virtue is safe with me.”

To my surprise, Simone started talking. Her limpid eyes blinked rapidly as she spoke, and it was like she couldn’t keep the words inside. “You do everything with your partner. It’s not like you start out the best of friends but you rehearse together, you train every day, you put together your routines. And when you’re dancing together, you’re constantly trying to create the illusion of romance and passion.”

Nina said slowly, “It’s a real head trip. It often makes your professional relationship better if you don’t have all of the personal junk clouding it up. Sometimes that illusion we’re trying to create takes over. We can wind up so . . . ballroom. You know.” She struck a series of dramatic poses, with her face going from anguish to elation. “That’s what I like about your dancing, Charlie. You’re real.”

It was almost time for the next class. Most of the dancers trailed out until it was only me and Nina. She was tightening the straps of her Latin shoes.

“Does Julian have a girlfriend?” I asked, attempting to sound casual.

“He might be in between right now, but he’s a serial monogamist, you know what I mean? The last girlfriend was some jet-setter from Spanish aristocracy. He’s never going to settle down, but at least he’s stopped dating dancers.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Well, whichever woman he picked would shoot into the stratosphere with her dancing, so it was great for her, but it exhausted everyone, wondering who would be the lucky one this season.” Nina stood up. “He’s very attractive.”

“I know. I’ll be careful.”

“It’s the nature of the business. When it comes to the professionals, it’s a meat market out there. Even good people like Dominic and Adrienne will try to set you up with another pro. It’s like date-a-dancer. They have the best intentions but this world will swallow up everything you have if you make the wrong choices. Believe me, I know. And remember that students are forbidden fruit.”

–

Lisa’s nightmares had become so bad now that she woke screaming on some nights. I knew the Hunter test was approaching but this was too extreme, especially since she seemed calm about the exam when we spoke. Pa asked Uncle Henry to stop by our place over the weekend, sending Lisa out on an invented errand before he arrived. Uncle shook off his navy wool coat as he came in, appearing out of place in our old apartment with his pressed shirt and expensive shoes. I felt grateful we had someone like him in our family and hoped he could help Lisa.

Pa poured Uncle our finest white tea, in the porcelain set he reserved for company. He also set out a dish with sugared lotus seeds, candied winter melon and dried ginger dipped in red sugar.

“What is your opinion?” Pa asked.

“She’s at an age where there are many changes,” Uncle Henry said. “With those young girls, it is normal that she has some trouble sleeping at night sometimes.”

“She’s not just scared when she wakes up, she’s stiff with terror,” I said.

“I have never seen Lisa like this,” Pa said.

Uncle Henry frowned, thinking.

“She needs help,” I said.

“There are many possibilities at my clinic,” Uncle said. “But probably your best chance is the Vision of the Left Eye.”

“You’re sending her to the witch?” I asked. “I thought you’d recommend a specialist. Maybe someone she could talk to about her problems.”

They both waved their hands at me dismissively. Uncle Henry said, “People like psychiatrists are a bunch of quacks. She needs a professional.”

I was silent. Uncle was a successful healer. What did I really know about such things?

“I’ve seen it before,” Uncle Henry said. “Those therapists won’t do any good. They’ll just ask her about her childhood and all kinds of other nonsense. I think the Vision should start by doing a Release of Life. Then, if necessary, we can consult her further.”

“You’re absolutely right, older brother,” Pa said.

“She has a very bright future ahead of her,” Uncle said. “She’s not like those other kids who were born here. Sometimes they have less ambition than someone fresh off the boat.”

I looked down. I had ambition, I just hadn’t been given a chance to draw upon it, but it was still worthless in the context of my family. Even if Uncle and Pa knew I was a ballroom dancer now, they wouldn’t think it was an acceptable profession for a girl. Better that I’d be an accountant or pharmacist.

Pa said, “There’s nothing wrong with being born here. Charlie’s doing wonderfully at her computer firm.”

I managed a wan smile.

Uncle said, “Yes, that’s very good, but the ambition and drive that we had, it’s watered down in the later generations. I just see those young kids hanging out on the street and I think, ‘What a waste.’ They have it so easy and still do so little with it all. They have the English skills. They know how to fit in. But determination is more important than any of those things. When I first arrived in America, I worked day and night just to make ends meet.”

“Pa still does that,” I said.

“Well, we need to aid Lisa. I’ve been having Dennis help her study whenever he’s free. I’ll start working with her more myself.” Uncle paused a moment. “It’s imperative that she find some peace, especially with the school test coming up in a few weeks. When you talk to the Vision, Charlie, make sure she knows I sent you.”

–

The police had become much stricter in public places, but I knew that on most Saturday mornings the Vision would be at the edge of Gossip Park, telling fortunes. She sat on a park bench, huddled in a purple down coat, with her assistant, Todd, standing behind her. Despite the bitter cold, there was a crowd gathered around her. I nodded at Todd, then I held out my gloved hand, showing her the sealed red money envelope.

“Mrs. Purity, Pa asks you to perform a Release of Life for Lisa and me, as soon as possible.” Pa had decided that he might as well cover me too, as long as we were consulting the witch anyway. He said it was well worth the extra cost, although the expense worried me.

The Vision of the Left Eye indicated the group of people around me. “I am very busy right now, tell him I speak to him soon.”

I’d been prepared for this. “My Uncle Henry asks you to help us as well. It’s urgent.”

The witch tapped a finger against her cheek. “Come back before twilight.”

Things were confusing when she got all mystical. “Do you know what time that is?”

“Try four o’clock,” Todd said. “Bring a photo of the person you want to help too.”

When I came back with Lisa’s photo in my bag, I had to wait another half hour while the Vision finished with her customers. I stomped my feet to keep warm. Todd was still waiting behind her, leaning forward to whisper with her once in a while.

One man, overcome with emotion, gathered the Vision into his arms. “No one could have known he was sick but you. With that knowledge, you saved my boy. Thank you.”

–

I expected us to go to a temple, but instead the Vision led Todd and me to the live poultry store where Zan’s father worked. I never liked going in there. A large handwritten sign was plastered across the mirror: “We Slaughter Asian-Style Upon Request,” which meant they used a very thin cut across the neck of the bird so that it wouldn’t be broken. Chinese needed the head to be attached for religious rituals, otherwise they would go back and request a new bird. The front part of the store was sterile and clean like a regular butcher’s, with fowl body parts on beds of crushed ice.

The shop was packed. Many people had been used to eating fresh meat in their home countries and they said it was much more delicious than what you could get in the supermarket. I knew it was hypocritical, since I ate meat, but I hated knowing a chicken had been slaughtered just for me.

When we got to the front of the line, the Vision said to the girl behind the counter, “We want to choose.” I took a step back.

The girl gave us a ticket and jerked her thumb toward the rear exit. I exchanged a look with Todd. I really didn’t want to go through there. He opened his mouth to say something to the witch but she had already started walking to the door.

We entered a room filled with all types of living fowl stuffed into wooden cages, which were stacked on top of each other. As the Vision went to the chicken section, we passed the doorway that led to the killing room. I caught a glimpse of a man in a blood-stained apron fitting a headless bird into one of the open-ended cones built into the stainless-steel table. His colleague hosed away the crimson blood that poured out onto the floor. There was another large vat of steaming water that must have been used to remove the feathers. I didn’t see Zan’s father.

I turned to the Vision. “Do you need to buy your dinner now? Can’t we do the ritual instead?”

She laughed, exposing her gold canine tooth. Ignoring me, she turned to the man in charge. “That chicken, with the yellow feathers.”

“Those are the tastiest,” the man said. He opened the cage door and reached in with his gloved hand. He grabbed one squawking chicken by the throat, keeping the rest from escaping with his other hand. “This one?”

“Wait,” said Todd. “Mrs. Purity, do you remember what happened the last time you released chickens in the park?”

I blinked, finally understanding what she intended to do with the bird.

The little witch pursed her lips, considering. “I hate those policemen. No respect.” She said to the man, “I’m sorry. We won’t need the chicken after all.”

The man let the chicken go and it fled to the back of the cage as he shut the door. He called, “Next!” and we left.

I was relieved to leave that place but also sorry we hadn’t been able to save the chicken. I would have bought it myself to keep it alive, but where would I keep it? The Vision then took us to the fish store, with Todd still trailing us.

“Only the liveliest ones,” she said to the fishmonger, indicating a tub filled with live crabs.

“Always the best for you, Mrs. Purity,” he said. “You choose.”

She selected eighteen live crabs, poking them with a stick to see how well they moved their pincers, which were bound with thick rubber bands. The fishmonger wrapped them up for her in paper, then tossed them in a plastic bag.

“Hold this,” she said to Todd. He took the bag by its handles. It looked quite heavy and its contents writhed whenever he set it down.

Then the witch took us through the street of funeral parlors, which most people avoided because they thought it was bad luck, made a sudden turn onto an alley and went up to what seemed like an illegal gambling salon. It was boarded shut. She knocked and a pair of eyes peeked through a slot that had been slid open.

“Release of Life,” the witch said. “Wong family.” She must have had this arranged by Todd when I was gone.

The eyes blinked and then disappeared. The slot slid closed. I looked down the street to see if any policemen were coming to bust us. It was as if we were trafficking in drugs. Of course, I realized, the Vision couldn’t get special religious supplies from the temples because those Buddhists shunned her, and she probably got a discount here. A few minutes later, the door cracked open and a hand covered with age spots thrust a filled shopping bag at us. The smell of incense escaped in a gust from the door. The witch handed it to Todd and we left.

As we started heading west, I said to Todd, “How are you doing? Can I carry one of those for you?”

“Oh no, thanks. I’m used to lugging stuff for her. How’s your new job?”

“How did you know about that?”

He shrugged. “You know, Chinatown. Small world.”

We went through Tribeca, crossed over the highway, and finally I understood that the Vision was heading for one of the piers on the water. There were only a few pedestrians passing by and seagulls flew overhead, screeching. The Hudson River stretched out before us and the smell of salt was in the icy wind.

Then the witch unpacked the second shopping bag she’d been given. She took out what looked like a plastic model of three sticks of incense in a metal holder, a bottle of rice wine and a paper plate, and set them all on the ground. She flipped a switch and the tips of the incense lit up, as if they were burning. It was battery operated.

I raised my eyebrows. “This isn’t real. Are you sure it’ll work?”

“The true gods don’t mind,” she said, shrugging. “It’s too cold to light anything. And the police will bother me again if I burn things in public.”

She set the electric incense next to the rail, then pulled a red octagon with the Chinese character for our surname, “Wong,” written on it out of the shopping bag. She held out her hand to me.

“What?”

She just gestured impatiently with her hand.

Todd said, “Please give her the photo.”

I took it out of my bag and placed it in her palm, muttering, “She can’t talk because the ritual’s too demanding?”

I thought I saw Todd hide a smile.

The Vision tucked the picture in between the sticks of plastic incense, then circled the whole thing with rice wine. I hoped she wouldn’t electrocute herself or spray the photo with wine. She closed her eyes and began to invoke the gods. Todd and I also bowed to the photo and my surname. Silently, I asked the gods and spirits please to help Lisa. I wasn’t sure if I believed in the Vision or not, but I hoped she could help Lisa.

Then she turned to the other shopping bag. She had me hold the paper plate while she extracted a crab. She slid the rubber bands off each pincer and placed it in the center of the paper plate. I pulled my fingers back in case it started moving as I gingerly balanced the plate from underneath. She took the plate from me, then called, “Gods, accept our release of life. Six for the entire Wong family. May the family be kept whole, may they live in safety.”

She flipped the crab into the bay below. There was a small white splash as it hit the water.

“When I have time, I take the train to upstate New York,” she said. “The water’s cleaner for them and you can let larger animals go there. But that costs a lot extra.”

She did this to six of the crabs, one by one. They arched, pincers extended, twirling in the air, and descended into the swirling water below us.

Then she started praying again. “Accept six for Lisa Wong. May the spirits that bother her be laid to rest.”

Was that what was happening to Lisa? I wished I knew.

She flipped another six crabs into the water and said in a ringing voice, “Spirits of heaven and earth, accept six for Charlie Wong, older daughter, about to embark on a new life. What one sister gains, shall the other lose. May balance be struck.”

I started. How did she know about my new position as a dancer? She was a force to be reckoned with.

The Vision released the final six crabs. She deliberately threw the last crab higher and one of the seagulls swept down and caught it neatly in its beak.

I gasped. “Why did you do that? You didn’t have to kill it.”

“That too is freedom,” she said. “That too is sacrifice. Yin, yang; no life without death.”

“What did you mean by what one sister gains, the other shall lose? Are you talking about pounds?”

Todd started to laugh then stopped himself by pretending he was coughing. She tossed the paper plate in the trash, and then she and Todd headed toward the train station. She didn’t answer my question. At the mouth of the station, the witch turned and I could see only the white of her left eye before she disappeared inside.

–

To my relief, Lisa started doing better after that ritual with the witch. She still had nightmares, but they came less frequently and she hadn’t wet her bed since it happened. I couldn’t get the Vision’s words about the two sisters out of my mind, even though I had no idea what they could mean. Lisa and I had less time to see each other nowadays because I came home so late and she left early for school. We were together in the mornings but Pa was there then, and I was afraid to reveal too much about my life if I spoke. I asked her to come to tai chi classes with me on Saturday but she wasn’t interested. Sometimes I wondered if she was avoiding me, since she spent lots of time at the library. I supposed she had a great deal of schoolwork. The truth was, I was so entranced by my new life at the studio that I sometimes walked around in a dream world of my own when I was at home.

One evening, though, she woke up when I came in. “How was your day?”

“Hard but wonderful.” I crossed over to her and kneeled down. I spoke in a low voice so as to not wake Pa. “I’m learning so much. I feel like the worst dancer in the world, but every day I’m becoming a tiny bit better.”

“I wish I could see you dance. I bet you’re much better than you think you are.”

I kissed her on her cheek. “How was your day?”

I could see the light go out of her eyes again. “Fine.”

“Anything special happen?”

“Not really. Good night, Charlie.” She turned her back to me and the conversation was over.

Thirteen

I had developed a routine in order to hide my dancer life from Pa. In the mornings, I wore one of my old outfits. Then after he and Lisa had left, I changed into Adrienne’s clothes. She’d even given me different bras too. Although we weren’t exactly the same size, hers fit me much better than Aunt Monica’s had. There were longer skirts that clung to my legs until the knee, then loosened so I could move. I liked the darted dresses, cut on the bias so that they fell softly across my body without being tight, yet showed off the curves I had. I didn’t recognize all of the names on the labels but I could tell from the material and cut that they were expensive. Dance clothing was such a specialty market, nothing came cheap. I had hidden Adrienne’s clothing in the same sort of bags that held Aunt Monica’s cast-offs and knew Pa wouldn’t be able to tell the difference anyway unless he saw me wearing them.

I changed and did my makeup as best I could after I had the apartment to myself. Then after work, I’d do the same thing in reverse. At the studio I changed back into my regular Aunt Monica clothing and my dishwasher shoes, and scrubbed off my makeup. The other dancers looked at me oddly sometimes when I did that, but no one said anything. They all put on different clothes as well, only not quite as dramatically as I did. Then I’d go back to my other life with Pa and Lisa.

Although I was used to hiding parts of my life from Pa, I’d never done it for so long, about something that mattered to me so much. I wanted to tell him but then I was afraid he would forbid me to continue. What would I do then? Men on the street turned their heads these days when I walked by, even when I was wearing Aunt Monica’s clothing without any makeup. I supposed I carried myself differently now. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. I was glad to be more attractive, of course, but in some ways I missed the old Charlie too, who could wear anything, go anywhere she wanted without being noticed. And although I didn’t miss the grimy work at the noodle restaurant, I missed being with Pa every day.

But my love of dance was starting to consume me. Even at home, my head was often filled with everything I was learning at the dance studio. Whenever I was alone in the apartment, I went over dance figures I had learned. I piled up the furniture the way Ma had done for me years ago, yet making sure that I could push it quickly back into place should Pa come home unexpectedly. During the week, I often went to the studio in the mornings before it opened so I could practice by myself while the pros were training with their partners. I was changing, and I couldn’t stop it.

–

At the studio, my old student Evelyn came up to me while I was seated at one of the tables, studying the technical alignments for the steps. I’d seen her and Trevor learning all of the dances, preparing for their fancy wedding in July. They’d obviously decided to make ballroom dancing one of their hobbies as well.

Evelyn was twisting her hands together, nervous. “Charlie, my brother Ryan is coming in tomorrow to take a lesson with you.”

“Really?” My heart beat a bit faster. I realized I was excited to see him again.

“Can I ask you for a favor? I’ve been watching you with your private students. You’re a great teacher, no matter what. But would you please just do your best to keep Ryan here in the lessons?”

“Of course I will.” There was a question in my eyes.

“I know, I sound like a freak. The thing is . . . may I sit down?”

“Of course.” I gestured to a seat next to me.

Evelyn sat down, then continued quietly, “It means a great deal to me to have Ryan do the father-daughter dance with me. Both of our parents are gone now. More than that, I want him to enjoy himself. I owe him a lot, he’s taken care of me my entire life. He thinks I’m just trying to impress everyone that I have money but it’s not that. The wedding’s a fresh start for me.”

“Rituals are important.”

“That’s it. So please be nice to him. He likes you and money is no object. We’re giving the lessons to him because he’d never take dance classes otherwise. If he’s willing to come every day, just haul his butt in here.”

“I’ll do my best, Evelyn. You’re a good sister.”

–

When Ryan arrived, I was too flustered to notice him. I was in the reception area saying good-bye to a couple who had just finished a series of lessons with me. I’d been teaching private lessons for a couple of weeks now. The man was always neatly dressed in a suit, and as we shook hands to say good-bye, I felt a folded-up piece of paper in his palm. I wasn’t sure what it was, so I left it there and turned to go.

“Oh, wait, Charlie,” he said, reaching for my hand again. “We really want to thank you for the fantastic lessons.”

I felt the piece of paper in his hand again and finally understood he was trying to tip me. Now I remembered the man who had shaken the bouncer’s hand at Decadence—that must have been a tip too. I certainly needed the money, but it still made me feel strange. As a dishwasher, I’d never been given a tip, though I knew the waitresses needed to be tipped because they weren’t paid much otherwise. Taxi drivers were tipped. I didn’t know if dancers were. I wasn’t his servant, although I guess they’d paid for my time. In my confusion, I just left it in his palm again.

He stared at the twenty-dollar bill still in his hand, befuddled.

“I told you,” his girlfriend hissed. “I said it would be insulting to her.”

“But everyone likes the money,” he said, as she steered him to the door.

“I appreciate it,” I said, calling after them. I didn’t want him to feel bad. The door shut behind them. “Really.” The skin on the back of my neck was on fire. I was so bad at being tactful.

“Interesting.” It was a deep, amused voice, coming from one of the couches. Ryan. He must have been waiting for his lesson there and I hadn’t seen him in all of the excitement. He was wearing a plain white T-shirt and jeans.

I said, “Can’t you tell I’m smooth? Not. Come on, your lesson’s about to begin.”

He chuckled as he followed me.

“So since you’re preparing for your sister’s wedding, do you want me to put together a choreographed number for the two of you?” It was easy to assemble little dances for couples. It was just combining a few steps that they knew and having them repeat them.

“Absolutely not.”

That was clear. I faced him. “Okay. Are you sure you want to be here?”

His face gentled. “Evelyn’s a pain in the neck but she’s my sister.”

I sighed, warming to him and thinking of Lisa. “I understand that.”

The lesson tape began with a steady foxtrot. “Let’s see if you can still dance.”

Ryan held out his hand to me. “Shall we?”

I let him hold me in dance position. He started off with his right leg and kicked me in the shins.

“Ow!”

“Sorry,” he said.

I reached out to slap him on the left thigh, the way I now did to all of the male students so they’d remember which leg was the left one. Before I knew it, he’d encircled my wrist with his hand, stopping me from moving.

I looked up at him and narrowed my eyes.

His lips quirked upward on one side. “I’m not used to allowing people to strike me, ma’am.”

“You kicked me first. And it is the dance teacher’s right to make sure her students know left from right.”

His fingers loosened and he sighed. “I knew I’d regret coming here. Go on. Do your worst.”

I slapped him on the left thigh, hard. “The leg that hurts, that is your left leg.”

We moved off into the foxtrot basic step and he didn’t confuse his left with his right again.

–

Early on the morning of the Hunter test, I bustled around. Pa leaned against the wall, a deep crease on his cheek from where he’d lain on his pillow. He’d already lit incense and we’d all bowed to Ma, to ask her for luck today. I always got home so late from the studio that I hadn’t been able to be with Lisa as she studied the night before. I remembered the hopeless cram sessions from my own school days, the desperation that turned into failure at the test. But whatever happened with Lisa today, I hoped everything would go back to normal with her afterward.

“What did you do yesterday to prepare?” I asked.

Lisa was hopping on one leg, then the other. “Not that much.”

“Stop that, you’ll wake the neighbors.” I pursed my lips. I shouldn’t have let her study by herself. “Why not?”

“I’d already done the practice test. I went over it again but I didn’t have anything else.”

“You could have studied vocabulary lists or something. That Fabrizio had hours of homework per week, you said. Maybe you should have borrowed something from him.”

Pa said, “Charlie, it’s a little too late for this now. I’m sure Lisa will do her best. What happened to that boy anyway?”

Lisa said, “They figured it out with his records and he’s taking the test today too. Hannah and her parents have been making it their family project for months now. I’m sorry, Charlie, I should have studied better. I just didn’t know what else to do.”

“What did you do with Uncle Henry and Dennis?”

She looked away. “They just went over my homework with me, which I knew anyway. Mr. Song said that it was basically an IQ test, which means they don’t test so much what you know. They want to see how you think.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I’m just nervous too. In the worst case, you don’t get in and then, well, we’ll do something really nice together.” I looked at Pa. “Right, Pa?”

He nodded. “Maybe we could go to Central Park or something.”

Lisa smiled. “I’d like that.” Then she turned serious again. “Yesterday at school, I read on their website that people shouldn’t come to line up at four a.m., that it won’t help you at all. Really, who’s going to do something like that?”

I said, “Hannah and her parents. Come on, let’s go. We’d better make sure we’re early too.”

–

On the subway uptown to the test site on the Upper East Side, we saw other kids and parents traveling together.

“Do you think they’re going to the test too?” Lisa asked.

“Could be.”

“It feels weird not to go to school on a Friday.” Lisa dug her fingers into my hand. “I’m nervous, Charlie.”

“It’ll be okay. You know you’re smart. What are you scared of?”

“That everyone else prepared a lot more than me. That I’ll do something wrong, like I’ll fill everything in with the wrong type of pencil and they won’t be able to grade my test. Or I’ll miss a line and every single one of my answers will be in the wrong place.”

I thought a moment, then pulled something out of my bag. “I was going to give it to you afterward but this is for you.”

“Oh, Charlie!” Lisa held it up and then started to giggle. “It’s beautiful!”

I looked at it and started cracking up too. It was the scarf I’d worked on for her for months. It was riddled with holes where I’d dropped stitches. It grew wider and wider, then suddenly narrowed, then grew wide again. The surface was lumpy because I’d pulled some parts too tightly and some parts were too loose. It looked more like a handkerchief a dog had gnawed on than a scarf.

Lisa tucked it around her neck and closed her eyes with a contented sigh. “No one else could have made something like this, Charlie. Only you.”

–

The test site area was so crowded, we had a hard time finding the entrance. The sidewalk was slippery with ice and slush, and sleet rained down upon us. Finally, we saw policemen and people wearing buttons clustered around a door. So many parents and kids were milling around.

Lisa gasped. Her breath was white. “This isn’t just a crowd. This is the line.”

What we’d thought were people standing around was actually a long line that already wrapped almost all the way around the huge block, back to the entrance. Lisa and I hurried to join them. We were an hour early, and still all of these people had beaten us here. I studied the others. A woman in a fancy coat and high-heeled boots stood in front of us, holding her son’s hand. Behind us was a heavyset Hispanic man who looked like a construction worker, with his daughter next to him. Everywhere I looked, I saw the same set expression of determination and worry. People were desperate to get into this school. What chance did my little sister have? I wished I’d done more. I should have figured out how to get her into a course, no matter how expensive.

As the line started to move, people wearing buttons reading “Hunter College High School” started walking up and down past us, calling, “Take all water and food out of your bags. Nothing is allowed inside except for your writing utensils. All electronic items will be confiscated. No candy, no snacks.”

Lisa clutched the scarf I gave her, her eyes panicked.

Suddenly, I remembered. “Do you have your pass with you?”

Lisa took it out of her coat pocket.

“Whew.”

We approached the entrance and I thanked the gods that Lisa had her entry ticket with her. The policemen called, “Parents to the left, children to the right. Make sure you have your pass out.” The crowd pushed us forward, the line separating into parents and children. The kids filed inside the building and the adults were left in the cold.