The first time she’d been forced to endure an air-raid drill had been in first grade; she still remembered because it had frightened her so badly. Their teacher had told them they had to practice hiding in case the Japanese attacked, and she remembered trembling beneath her desk at Commodore Stockton while several of her classmates cried for their mothers. She’d had nightmares afterward, but she didn’t remember the details, only her mother waking her up in the middle of the night and saying, You’re dreaming, you’re dreaming. The drills continued year after year, although the enemy who might attack them changed. Japan was vanquished but Korea and China might invade, and now it was the Soviets who could drop atomic bombs. She had secretly welcomed their potential Soviet invaders, because at least she’d never be mistaken for a Russian.
Now she turned her head, even though she knew it was against regulations, and rested her head on her folded arm. Shirley was lying beside her, facedown. It was a surprise, because Shirley hadn’t been anywhere near her in the classroom, but it also seemed entirely normal and familiar. Lily remembered lying on the floor with Shirley during other drills in other hallways, and somehow it was right that they would do this one together, too.
Under the blaring of the alarm, Lily moved her foot and nudged Shirley’s leg. Shirley turned her head too, and they looked at each other. There was something funny about it: their faces mashed against the floor, their hands flimsy protection against potential radiation. Shirley’s face twitched into a small, ironic smile, and she mouthed, We’re doomed. Lily swallowed a giggle, and the alarms went on and on so loudly that Lily thought she would go deaf, and what was the point of this, anyway? The specter of nuclear annihilation was still frightening if she truly thought about it, but over the years she had learned not to think about it and to dismiss the drills as useless. If the Soviets did drop atomic bombs on San Francisco, Lily suspected they would all die, regardless of whether they knew how to hide in a hallway.
She made a face at Shirley, as if they were children, and Shirley had to stop herself from laughing too. Eventually Shirley turned her face to the floor again, and so did Lily, because they sensed the teachers coming by with their clipboards to check that everyone was doing as they were told. And finally—suddenly—the alarms cut off. The silence that followed seemed to ring for a good long while, eventually leaving a dull buzzing noise in Lily’s ears. They weren’t supposed to move yet, not until the teacher designated as their Civil Defense leader came to tell them the drill was over, but people were beginning to shift, turning onto their sides, lifting their heads to see what the delay was.
At last a voice came over the intercom, announcing, “All clear! All clear! Stand up and remain in place for roll call. Stand up and remain in place for roll call.”
Lily scrambled to her feet. Her arms were stiff from where she had held them over her head. Shirley was brushing off her skirt, muttering about how needlessly loud the sirens had been. Lily saw Kath farther down the hall, stretching her arms above her head. And there was Miss Weiland, hurrying toward them with her clipboard. “Mr. Anthony De Vicenzi,” she called.
“Here!”
“Mr. De Armand Evans.”
“Here.”
“Miss Lilian Hu.”
“Here,” Lily answered.
“Miss Shirley Lum.”
“Right here!” Shirley said.
“Miss Kathleen Miller.”
“Here.”
Lily glanced over at Kath and wondered how they had become separated, because they’d been sitting right next to each other in class before the alarms went off. What if there had been a real bomb, and she had lost track of Kath in the rush to evacuate? The thought was disquieting; she felt an urgent need to go to her.
“Lily, will you come by the Pearl tonight?” Shirley said.
Startled, Lily said, “Tonight?”
“Yes, I’m working. Come over?”
Everyone was trooping back into Miss Weiland’s classroom. Lily was still caught in the unexpected panic that had buzzed through her at the idea of being separated from Kath. But Shirley was looking at her expectantly, as if they were still best friends, and in her confusion Lily said automatically, “All right.”
“Good. I’ll see you later.” Shirley waved as she went off to her seat on the other side of Miss Weiland’s classroom.
“What was that?” Kath asked, falling into step beside her.
Lily was relieved to see her and flustered by her relief. It had only been an air-raid drill—everyone was fine. She replied, “Shirley invited me over. I guess she wants to talk.”
She and Kath went back to their seats together, where they had left their notebooks open, sentences half-finished.
* * *
—
It was a slow night at the Eastern Pearl when Lily arrived. Shirley made room for Lily to pull up a stool beside her at the cash register, and she offered her tea and wa mooi. It all seemed so normal that Lily felt as if she had entered an alternate dimension—one where she and Shirley had never had a falling-out.
It felt nice, Lily reluctantly realized. She had missed the comforting, familiar scent of fried noodles and the sound of Shirley’s mother barking orders in the restaurant kitchen. Maybe she had missed Shirley too.
“Look at that woman over there in the corner booth,” Shirley said in a low voice as Lily settled onto her stool. “I think she’s got to be a nun on the run.”
Lily glanced at the woman in question. She was dressed all in black with a tiny netted hat on her head, and she was seated alone in front of her plate of chow mein. “Not a nun,” Lily objected. “She’s a widow.”
“She’s too young to be a widow. She probably fell in love with her priest and had to flee her nunnery to avoid scandal.”
“If she only had feelings for the priest, she didn’t need to flee,” Lily pointed out. “She could just keep them to herself. If she fled, she must have had an affair with him.”
Shirley looked delighted. “Yes! He’s probably quite handsome, this priest. He’s the Clark Gable of priests. No, he’s too old for our nun—what about Rock Hudson? The Rock Hudson of priests. Don’t you think he’s handsome?”
“Of course,” Lily said. “But isn’t he a little too handsome to be a priest?”
Shirley’s eyebrows arched. “There’s no such thing. Why? Who do you think is the right amount of handsome to be a priest?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think she’s a nun.”
“Come on, play along. Who would be your handsome-but-not-too-handsome priest?”
Lily had the sudden sensation she was being tested. “Maybe . . . I don’t know, Jimmy Stewart?”
“Too old,” Shirley said decisively. “Do you really think he’s handsome?”
“I suppose.”