—
Shirley filled Lily in on the dance committee at lunch. They took their trays of ham sandwiches and butterscotch pudding over to a table at the edge of the cafeteria, so that they wouldn’t be interrupted. Lily had been putting Shirley or Flora or Mary between her and Will whenever possible, so this arrangement only further convinced her she’d made the right decision to volunteer for Shirley’s committee. Even the idea of lugging several giant cans of pineapple juice to the high school gym via cable car didn’t seem so bad now.
But as Lily jotted down Shirley’s instructions on her responsibilities regarding punch bowls and napkins, her thoughts kept circling back to the pamphlet about Communism, the Man Ts’ing, and Calvin. Shirley hadn’t mentioned him since the picnic, and Lily hadn’t either. She had felt constrained by her mother’s admonition to tell her if Shirley was still involved with the youth group. And yet their avoidance of the subject only made her want to talk about it more.
At the end of lunch, as she was returning her tray, she gave in to temptation and said to Shirley, “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, what?”
Shirley looked curious as Lily drew her into a corner of the cafeteria behind one of the concrete pillars. This one was covered with signs advertising the Spook-A-Rama dance and the Girls’ Athletic Association’s bowling league.
“Did your parents talk to you about the Man Ts’ing?” Lily asked.
Shirley tensed up. “Yes. They told me not to go to any more of their picnics.” She paused, looking around to make sure no one could hear them. “I got the idea I shouldn’t talk about it. It seems like you did too. Why are you bringing this up now?”
Lily didn’t think she should tell Shirley that the FBI agents had been fishing for information about Calvin, but she wanted to warn Shirley about him somehow. “I thought you really liked Calvin?” Lily said, trying to sound doubtful.
Shirley scowled. “So what if I did?”
“You’re not going to—if he’s part of that group, you can’t—”
“My parents lectured me for half an hour about how the government would put us in camps just like the Japanese if they thought we were Communists,” Shirley whispered angrily. “I’m not stupid.”
“I didn’t say you were,” Lily said, bristling. “I was only asking.”
The cafeteria was almost empty now, but Shirley kept her voice low as she added, “It’s all a lie, anyway. Will and Calvin wouldn’t be involved with the Reds. It’s ridiculous.”
“Are you sure?” Lily asked. “How well do you know Calvin?”
Shirley’s eyes narrowed. “As well as you do. And we’ve both known Will forever. I just can’t believe . . . Do you believe they’re . . . Communists?” She whispered the last word.
“No, of course not, but my mother said it’s not only about that. They’re using Communism as an excuse to deport us.” Lily didn’t know if she should tell Shirley that the G-men had taken her father’s naturalization papers. Shirley’s family had their own issues with citizenship; her father had come to America with false papers after the 1906 earthquake.
Shirley’s face went pale, but she said, “The immigration people are always awful to us. But nobody’s going to get deported. We’re Americans.”
The bell rang, signaling the official end of lunch, and they started to move automatically toward the cafeteria’s exit.
“I’m glad you joined the dance committee,” Shirley said unexpectedly. “But you didn’t have to do it to avoid Will.”
“That’s not why I did it.”
“You don’t have to lie,” Shirley said. “I wouldn’t have forced you to go to the dance with him.”
This surprised Lily so much she didn’t know what to say.
Shirley paused at the cafeteria door and gave her a sad sort of smile, adding, “See you at dance committee later.”
* * *
—
In her room that night, Lily pulled the Communist pamphlet out of her book bag and climbed into bed. It was organized into a hundred questions, starting with, “What is Communism?” The answers depicted a system in which every freedom was stripped from the individual. It warned that “groups devoted to idealistic activities” such as American Youth for Democracy secretly worked to recruit unsuspecting people to join the Reds. Communism would take your home, your bank account; it would outlaw all religion; you wouldn’t even be allowed to have friends of your own choosing.
On and on it went, depicting a ruthless international organization that brooked no dissent and was bent on undermining every American value. It should have been terrifying to read, but the drumbeat of horror after horror somehow muted its effect. Lily skimmed through the questions more rapidly, until number ninety-five caught her attention: “What is Communism’s greatest strength?”
The response was oddly provocative, even stirring: “Its secret appeal to the lust for power. Some people have a natural urge to dominate others in all things.”
And then, in italics on a separate line: “Communism invites them to try.”
She knew the pamphlet was presenting Communism as an immoral lust for power, but perversely, perhaps, she found this last warning inspirational. Four words seemed to rise up off the page in whispers: secret, lust, natural, try.
She lay back against her pillow, letting the booklet fall on her chest so that it rose and fell with the motion of her breath.
Tomorrow, she decided, she would invite Kath to go with her to Thrifty Drugs. She had to show her that novel.
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