So much for that. Lost in my disappointment, I hurried up a set of stairs, hating Hong Kong for all its steep hills and valleys. My eyes were on my feet, counting each blasted step—when I heard a hwamei chirp.
I slowed, rounding my lips to whistle its familiar song. Before the war, you could find hwamei all over Tunglam. They were beautiful, with cinnamon plumes and a pale-blue streak across their eyes. Then the Japanese came with their guns and scared them away.
I kept whistling. When I was halfway up the stairs, a pair fluttered out of the trees. I let out a gasp of delight as I craned my neck to look up at them—and that was how I missed the boy on the bicycle.
“Watch out!” he shouted, speeding down from the top of the hill.
He jostled me to the side, right before his bicycle toppled. Off he flew, tumbling down the stairs and landing against the pavement with a loud smack.
I rushed down. “Ah gor! Are you all right?”
He wasn’t moving.
I rolled him onto his back. He looked twelve or thirteen, only slightly older than I was. His eyes were shut, his nose unbroken. His white shirt bore a vivid red stain.
Panicking now, I floated my fingers underneath his nostrils. He was breathing, but barely.
What should I do? The bus was long gone. The road was empty. There was no one to help.
“Ah gor,” I said, lightly slapping his cheeks. “Wake up. Wake up!”
A handkerchief was sticking out of his pocket, and I used it to dab at the sweat glistening on his forehead. He had a nice face, even with his eyes closed. The tip of his nose was sunburned, and his lashes were long, falling upon his skin in a gentle fan. He was better looking than the rascals Yi Gor used to be friends with in Tunglam, and gods, I hoped I hadn’t killed him.
“I’m going to look for help,” I said.
But first I had to get him out of the sun. Picking him up under his arms, I started dragging him toward the closest tree for shade, when the boy let out what sounded like a cough.
No, not a cough. He was laughing!
“Didn’t anyone teach you not to look up while you walk, little mui mui?” he said, eyes fluttering open. “It’s dangerous.”
My concern evaporated. I dropped him onto the pavement and threw his handkerchief at his head. “You crazy idiot, you made me think you were dead!”
“I fell down the stairs.”
“You nearly killed me!”
“Isavedyou.” The boy rubbed at his nose. “What were you looking for in the trees anyway?”
I ignored him and headed up the stairs. This time I held the railing for support. I didn’t get far before I noticed that the charm on my bracelet was missing.
A groan escaped my throat. Why, of all days, today?
I spun around. Frantically I ran down to the road, retracing my steps and searching the bushes and gutters.
The boy bent beside me. “First your attention’s up in the trees, now down at the ground. You are a peculiar girl.”
“Will you stop chattering and help me look?” I cried. “It’s important.”
“What are you looking for?”
“The charm on my bracelet. It’s a gold peanut.”
We searched, but the charm was nowhere to be found. I kicked the dirt, letting out a frustrated sigh. The bracelet was special to my family. Mama had given it to me as a goodbye gift. How could I be so careless?
“Patience,” said the boy, sensing my distress. “We’ll find it.”
No I wouldn’t. Not today, at least. “I can’t keep looking, I’m going to be late.”
