by Malinda Lo
“I think I have a good chance of winning,” Shirley said. “Don’t you?” During her speech, Shirley’s posture straightened; she ran a hand over the green-and-pink scarf covering her hair; and at last she cocked her head and gave Lily an almost coquettish smile.
“Well, yes,” Lily said. If anyone had a good chance of winning the Miss Chinatown pageant, it was Shirley. And yet there was an unexplained sadness beneath Shirley’s bravado, and Lily wasn’t sure how to ask about it. Instead she said, “What do you have to do to enter?”
“I have to submit an application, and there’s a small fee, but I can pay for it out of my savings. And then I have to get sponsors—I’ll ask my parents, of course, and maybe some of our neighbors. Mr. Wong’s imports store would be good, because I could wear their jewelry, right? And I was wondering if maybe you could help me.”
“Me? How?”
“The Miss Chinatown contestants have to sell raffle tickets. I think most of the girls who enter have people helping to sell them—sort of like a support committee.” Shirley gave Lily a small, modest smile. “I was hoping you’d head my support committee.”
Lily was puzzled. “Why don’t you ask Flora or Mary? They’re better at that sort of thing.”
“Because you’ve been my best friend for as long as I remember.” A flush crept up her cheeks. “Not Flora, and not Mary. I want to do this with you.”
A warm tenderness bloomed inside Lily; it felt the way a bruise ached when pressed. Shirley scooted over and linked her arm through Lily’s and laid her head on Lily’s shoulder, and Lily smelled the faint scent of Shirley’s Breck shampoo.
“This is probably our last year together,” Shirley said wistfully. “You could be anywhere next year. What if you get into college in Pennsylvania?”
“Pennsylvania!” Lily’s uncle Arthur, her father’s younger brother, had gone to medical school there, but Lily had never wanted to go so far away. “I’m not going there.”
“Why not? If you got a scholarship—and you could—you would go. I’ve known you’d go somewhere ever since we were kids. You’ve always been the only one who was definitely going somewhere. Even if you just go to Cal, you won’t be here anymore.”
Shirley sounded so terrifyingly certain, and her certainty made Lily feel guilty, as if she had been planning her escape from Chinatown since childhood. As if she had always planned to leave Shirley behind. “You might not be here either,” Lily said, hoping that the words would sound true. For good measure, she added, “Aren’t you going to college?”
Shirley sat up, withdrawing her arm from Lily’s. “I’m not the college type—or did you forget?”
Lily was embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
Shirley waved her hand to stop her. “I’ll probably go to City College, but it’s not going to make a difference. I’ll have to work at the Eastern Pearl anyway, at least until I get married. That’s what Rosie did. This is my last year of freedom, and I’m going to make it one to remember.” She turned to Lily, a determined look on her face. “I know we’ve had some disagreements this year, but this is our last year. Let’s do this together.”
* * *
—
On the B-Geary back to Chinatown, they discussed their plan. Shirley would submit her application in the next two weeks, after persuading her parents and Mr. Wong next door to sponsor her. Lily would ask her father if the Chinese Hospital could sponsor her in any way, or at least allow her to sell raffle tickets there. Shirley needed to get a cheongsam for the contest, as well as an American-style evening dress, and she needed to practice her speech and determine how best to do her hair. And over Christmas, they would sit down with their friends and strategize over how to sell as many raffle tickets as they could.
Shirley wanted to make a list of what she had to do, so Lily found a stray newspaper on an empty seat, and Shirley borrowed a pencil from a woman seated across from them. As Shirley scribbled notes, Lily saw a small story about a construction project at Cliff House. There was an illustration of a “sky tram,” which looked like a single streetcar hanging by a thick wire, that would travel between Cliff House and Point Lobos, just past the old Sutro Baths. Once it opened next year, visitors could pay twenty-five cents to ride out to Point Lobos and back.
Lily realized the construction she had seen from Sutro Heights must be related to this sky tram. She wondered whether anyone would pay to ride this short, useless loop. The same view could be seen from the shore, for free. Would it be worth the cost to dangle above the rocky cliffs and salt spray, to get twenty feet closer to the Seal Rocks? The passengers would simply be going back and forth, and when they stepped out at the end of the trip, they wouldn’t have gone anywhere at all.
28
It was as if Shirley had flipped a switch, and Lily was suddenly back in the clutch of their group of friends. In the weeks after the trip to Sutro’s, Shirley monopolized almost all of Lily’s free time. She had to accompany Shirley to fill out the Miss Chinatown application; she had to meet with their friends to form their Miss Chinatown committee; and those committee meetings inevitably turned into gatherings at Fong Fong’s where the boys joined them. Even Lily’s walks home after school had been claimed; Shirley almost always looked for her now.
That meant Lily had less time to spend with Kath, and as the days turned into weeks, Lily felt increasingly out of sorts. At first, being back in Shirley’s good graces had been comfortable and familiar, but it didn’t last. Aunt Judy had sent Lily another issue of Collier’s, and the articles in the magazine made Lily wonder if she should major in aeronautical engineering in college, instead of math. She thought about talking to Shirley about it, but she knew that Shirley wouldn’t be interested, and she might even be resentful of Lily’s aspirations. When she was younger, Lily had accepted the differences between her and Shirley, because they had been the same in all the important ways. But now their differences seemed so vast, maybe even insurmountable. She wondered if she would have felt this way if she hadn’t become friends with Kath.
And yet, as the end of the semester crawled ever closer, Lily began to worry that a distance was growing between her and Kath. She was understanding when Lily couldn’t walk home with her, but after several cancellations, she stopped waiting for Lily after school. Of course, they hadn’t been friends for very long; perhaps their friendship was simply shrinking back to the way it was before. Kath had her own friends, including the G.A.A. girls she ate lunch with, although Lily had gotten the impression that her closest friends, like Jean, had graduated last year. Lily wondered if Kath was going to the Telegraph Club with them, and the thought raised a strange jealousy in her while another part of her sank into a fatalistic gloom. The only thing she could conclude was that she didn’t understand how her friendship with Kath worked, but whatever was happening—or not happening—felt wrong.
By the last day of school before Christmas vacation, Lily hadn’t really talked to Kath outside of class since early December, though Kath was still perfectly friendly to her during school. Lily hoped to find Kath before the Christmas assembly, but there had been no time that morning, and then she was almost late to the assembly itself. Miss Weiland was waving at her to hurry as she rushed through the doors into the auditorium.
“Lily, over here!”
Shirley was down near the front of the auditorium, in the third row near the middle. As Lily made her way down the aisle, she finally saw Kath. She knew Kath saw her too, because their eyes slipped past each other almost furtively. Lily wanted to go over to Kath right now, but she couldn’t. She had to edge through Shirley’s row, bumping against knees while apologizing, to the seat that Shirley had saved beside her. Their friends were all here too; there was Flora sitting smugly on Shirley’s left, with Hanson beside her, and Mary looking unusually sour-faced.
As Lily sat down, Shirley said to her, “We’re going to my house after school, not Flora’s
. You’re coming, right?”
“Of course,” Lily said, but she was still thinking about Kath. She had to find her after school; otherwise she wouldn’t see her until after Christmas break.
The assembly began with the choir singing Christmas carols before the sophomore class’s Nativity scene. Lily twitched in her seat, worrying about whether she had somehow made Kath angry by reconciling with Shirley. It was clear that Shirley didn’t like Kath, and the feeling was probably mutual. Or maybe Lily had done something wrong the last time they’d gone to the Telegraph Club. She remembered sitting silently at the table and listening to Jean and that woman Rhonda saying all those things she hadn’t understood about dykes and paying the cops. Maybe Kath was embarrassed to be seen with someone as naïve as Lily. The thought made her shrivel up inside, certain that she had ruined their friendship.
After the Nativity scene ended, the dance club trotted onstage in their pink ballet slippers to the music from The Nutcracker. The girls in their pink tutus twirled with varying skill, kicking up their legs exuberantly as they spun. Each time they kicked, their tutus flew up, exposing their black leotards beneath in brief dark flashes. Lily had seen the dance club’s Nutcracker routine every Christmas throughout high school, but this year she was newly aware of what she was watching. The girls’ legs and the shadows between them; the curves of their thighs and calves; the cleavage made visible by their low-cut leotards. The dancers must have always looked like this, but Lily felt as if this was the first time she truly saw them: the weight of their bodies; their aliveness and the warmth of their pink skin. A couple of boys in the row ahead of Lily whistled and hooted, and when a teacher came down the aisle to shush them, Lily dropped her gaze to her knees as if she had been admonished herself. There was a difference between those boys’ whistles and what she had been thinking, but she wasn’t sure why or how. She only knew she felt caught, and her face flushed. She was glad the auditorium was dark.
Her mind flitted back to the club, remembering Kath’s pleased expression after Rhonda had called her a baby butch. Lily had understood that at a gut level; she had seen it not only in Kath’s hint of a smile but in the way she held her body. Almost like Tommy.
* * *
—
“I’ll meet you at your locker in a few minutes,” Lily told Shirley as they left the assembly.
“We have to go soon,” Shirley said. “What do you have to do?”
“I have to go get something,” Lily said vaguely, and slipped away before Shirley could further question her. She had seen Kath heading down the hall toward her locker and she wanted to catch her before she left, but the crowd seemed to be purposely getting in her way. Every time she dodged one person, another seemed to pop up in front of her, and by the time she reached the locker, Kath was nowhere to be found. Frustrated, Lily spun around, searching for her, and at last she spotted Kath going toward the main doors. She rushed after her and finally caught up, reaching for Kath’s shoulder.
“Kath!”
She turned in surprise.
“I have to talk to you.” Lily’s hand slid down Kath’s arm. She took Kath’s hand and pulled her toward the edge of the hall as she sought out a quiet place. It was a zoo, with everyone rushing to pack up and leave. Lily saw the half-open door to the supply room just past the main office, and she tugged Kath after her, not stopping until they were inside with the door closed, the sound of the students’ exodus abruptly muffled.
The room was little more than a closet, longer than it was wide, and barely wider than the door itself. The walls were lined with shelves; the shelves were stacked with reams of paper and manila folders and boxes of pens and pencils. Overhead a flat fluorescent light panel reminded Lily of the back corner of Thrifty Drugs—she hadn’t been there since the last time she went with Kath—and she realized she was still holding Kath’s hand. She let go. Her palm was sweaty.
Kath stood with her back to a wall of file folders, looking a little confused. “What’s going on?”
Lily spoke in a rush. “I wanted to catch you before Christmas—I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately. Shirley’s taking up all my time with Miss Chinatown.”
“I know,” Kath said. “You told me.”
The fluorescent light made Kath’s pale skin look even paler and turned her blue eyes into a faded gray. Kath had cut her hair, Lily realized. Not to an extreme; it had just been a trim, but it was more closely shaped around her head now. Lily could see how Kath could comb it differently, and it would make her look almost like a boy. The thought was surprising, and as if Kath could read her mind, she slid her hands into the pockets of her jacket and shifted her posture, almost like a boy.
“Has something changed?” Kath asked. “Are you running for Miss Chinatown too?”
Lily’s eyebrows shot up. “Me? Oh no. I’m no beauty queen.”
Kath smiled a little. “I don’t know about that.”
Lily’s face heated up. She looked past Kath’s shoulder at the stacks of manila folders and bit her lip. She couldn’t remember what she had wanted to say anymore. She thought wildly of Rhonda and the Nutcracker dancers and her awareness of Kath’s sudden boyishness—or had it always been there?
“What’s going on?” Kath asked again. “Is something bothering you? I know you’ve been busy lately . . .” Kath gave her an uncertain look.
“I’m sorry,” Lily said awkwardly. “I feel like—like something’s wrong. Is something wrong? Between us?” She twisted her hands together, her flushed face going even hotter.
Kath gave her a funny look, wariness combined with surprise. “I don’t—why do you think something’s wrong?”
“Is it because of Shirley? She’s very demanding, and I don’t want you to think that I don’t want—don’t want to be your friend.” Lily flinched at her clumsy phrasing.
Kath shifted, readjusting the strap of her book bag, and her wariness seemed to increase. “To be honest, she doesn’t seem like that good of a friend.”
“She’s my best friend,” Lily said, and then sighed.
“Okay,” Kath said. It sounded like a question.
“It’s just that I’ve known her my whole life,” Lily said, trying to explain. “I don’t—I can’t—it’s not easy to—to be around her sometimes, but I can’t turn my back on her. It’s our senior year.” She didn’t know how to make Kath understand the way Shirley had always been there; the way Lily knew Shirley always would be there, even if Lily went away to college and Shirley stayed in Chinatown. Lily would always have to come home. “It’s our last year together here.” Lily realized she was quoting Shirley back to Kath.
“So, what are you saying? You’re going to be busy until after Miss Chinatown’s over?” Kath frowned and shook her head. “I guess I don’t understand. I thought we were—” Kath cut herself off, sounding frustrated.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I . . .” Lily trailed off. It was as if the English language had failed her. She couldn’t find the right words for this dammed-up feeling inside, as if she were denying herself something absolutely vital, and she didn’t know why.
And then, abruptly, she realized this had nothing to do with Shirley at all.
She missed Kath. She missed having Kath to talk to, yes, but she also missed having Kath listen to her. Rockets to the moon didn’t seem so far-fetched when Kath listened to her. She made previously unimaginable things seem possible.
She had wanted to ask Kath when she could go back to the Telegraph Club, but now she felt as if she had made everything worse, and she stared down at the floor miserably.
“Maybe I should go,” Kath said quietly. “I feel like I’m making you upset.”
“No, I’m doing this all wrong,” Lily said. A rush of longing came over her. She needed to fix this. To show Kath what she couldn’t say.
Lily reached out and impulsively took Kath’s hand in hers. Kath start
ed, but then she let Lily hold her hand.
Lily knew immediately that this was different. It wasn’t like grabbing Kath’s hand to pull her into the supply room. Instinctively, Lily ran her thumb across Kath’s palm, feeling the swell of Kath’s flesh and the delicate thread of the vein in her wrist, the fluttering of Kath’s pulse beneath her fingertip. She heard Kath catch her breath.
“Let’s go to the club again,” Lily said softly, looking at their joined hands. She had never noticed before that Kath’s skin was so white that it made her own look almost golden brown.
There was a pause, just long enough that Lily’s heart began to sink, and then Kath said hesitantly, “Do you . . . do you think you’ll have any time over Christmas break?”
“I’ll have time!” Lily looked up in excitement, and Kath’s fingers tightened over hers. “When do you want to go?” Lily asked.
Kath looked like she didn’t quite believe her yet. “Jean wanted to go New Year’s Eve, but it’s too expensive. There’s a cover charge. I asked her if she wanted to go on December thirtieth instead.”
“What did she say?”
“She hasn’t decided yet. I was going to ask you if you wanted to go, but I didn’t know if . . . Do you want to go then?”
Kath’s hair was short enough that Lily could see the tips of her ears now, the pinkness of her skin darkening, like color coming into a rose. Lily knew she was blushing too, but for an exhilarating moment, she didn’t care.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes.”
29
When Lily was younger she’d thought of Shirley’s house as a marvelous kind of maze. All of the rooms, large and small, were crowded with Chinese knickknacks: jade statues in all sorts of nooks; ink-brush paintings of faded yellow and brown landscapes; silk hangings and screens shoved into the back corners. Over the years, various members of Shirley’s extended family had lived there—uncles and aunts, grandparents and visiting cousins—but now it was only Shirley’s immediate family. Since Shirley’s older sister, Rosie, had gotten married and moved out, there were only six of them occupying the two floors above the Eastern Pearl.
