There was something about Shirley’s breezy tone that made Lily suspicious, but Shirley had already turned away.
“Lily?” Will said, prompting her.
“Sorry.” She got into the car, sliding across the wide bench seat, and Will climbed in beside her. Lily’s position gave her a good view of Shirley, and now Lily recognized the smile Shirley had turned on Calvin. It was the one she put on when she wanted to impress someone. Lily understood, then, the real reason Shirley had wanted to come on this picnic.
* * *
—
They parked the car along Main Drive in Golden Gate Park, near the glass Conservatory. Calvin was gallant and insisted on taking the chicken pot himself, while Shirley carried the picnic blanket. Lily and Will followed, laden with bags and boxes. They chose a stretch of grass on which to lay out their things, weighting down the blanket’s four corners with the chicken pot, a basket of dishes and utensils, and bottles of soda.
It was a beautiful day, still and warm beneath a clear blue sky, and before long Shirley took off her pink cardigan to reveal a matching pink sweater shell beneath. Lily realized she had never seen this pink twinset before, nor the baby-blue-checked capri pants her friend wore. Shirley always took care with her appearance, but Lily thought Shirley had made a special effort today. She was wearing clip-on earrings of pink flowers with rhinestone centers that glittered in the sunlight, and her hair was carefully pulled back to show them off.
Lily had no opportunity to ask Shirley about her new clothes, however, because Calvin and Will were always going back and forth from the car with more picnic supplies, and Shirley was busily acting as hostess, arranging and rearranging the dishes and napkins and asking Calvin to open a soda for her.
Finally, the bus that the other members of the youth group had taken arrived up on Main Drive. They spilled out, carrying boxes of pastries and a long duffel bag that contained volleyball equipment. Once they had all gathered together, Lily counted about two dozen people in total—a relatively even mix of girls and boys—almost all in college, though a few were in high school. The college students seemed so much older to Lily; they were friendly to her, but they treated her like a little sister. Several of them spoke Mandarin, which was uncommon in Chinatown, where people mostly spoke Cantonese. Lily soon learned that the Mandarin speakers were students from China—exiles now, unable to go home because of the political situation.
Lily was curious about them. Although they dressed like any other American, there was something faintly foreign about the way they carried themselves that seemed, if not un-American, then less American. She wanted to ask if any of them were from Shanghai, but she felt shy around them—she felt un-Chinese—and besides, they had to eat.
They helped themselves to the chicken, warning each other that the soy sauce would soak through the paper plates unless they ate it immediately. There were hard-boiled eggs in the pot too, marinated to a rich brown color. Lily fished out one, cut it in half, and shared it with Shirley. Lily ate her egg in two quick bites, and then she ate a drumstick more slowly, finally depositing the bone in a paper sack that was being used for garbage. The white boxes contained pastries that someone had bought from a Chinatown bakery: sesame seed balls and egg tarts, and a dozen soft white barbecue pork buns that they split apart so everyone could have some. One of the girls had made a batch of fried dumplings that she called chiao-tzu, stuffed with chopped pork and Napa cabbage, and Lily dipped hers in the drippings from her chicken leg and then licked her fingers to get the last of the sauce.
Afterward, drowsy and full, Lily lay down on the grass and threw an arm over her eyes to block the sun. She began to doze off, feeling as if she were sinking slowly into the warm ground, the voices of the youth group members growing ever more distant. Someone was talking about how China was moving forward into the future, and Lily imagined a Chinese man in a space suit, his face blurry behind his round helmet, standing on a red planet. Behind him, an army of similarly space-suited explorers blinked into existence: hundreds, thousands of Chinese, and the man in the lead now held a Red China flag, its five gold stars on the red cloth blending into the Martian landscape.
* * *
—
She must have fallen asleep, because when she woke up, blinking slowly at the bright blue sky above, she was alone on the picnic blanket. She heard laughter nearby, and the thunk of a volleyball. She rolled onto her side, and green blades of grass poked against her cheek. The volleyball net had been strung between two poles, and the youth group members divided into two teams, while others watched from the sidelines.
She pillowed her head on her arm to make herself more comfortable, but she didn’t get up. Shirley was actually playing in the game, which was somewhat unusual. When they were children, Shirley had been quite good at sports; she was always getting chosen first in gym class and dominated the basketball games they played on the courts behind Cameron House. It had been a long time, though, since Lily had seen Shirley dust off her athletic skills. Now she saw Shirley standing with her knees slightly bent, eyes up as she followed the trajectory of the ball, hands clasped in front of her. The ball came at the player beside her, who bumped it with his forearms, and then Shirley jumped up, arm outstretched to smack the ball down over the net, where it struck the ground between two players.
Shirley’s team broke into cheers, and Lily saw Calvin run up beside her, patting her on the back. If his hand lingered a bit longer than necessary, nobody noticed except Shirley—and Lily, who saw her friend lean into his hand, tilting her head up to smile at him.
* * *
—
“You like him, don’t you?” Lily asked Shirley as they walked home from Stockton Street.