“What does it matter?” Shirley said defiantly.
At that moment the wind knocked the empty fortune cookie bag onto the ground and blew it across the pavement toward the fence. Shirley jumped up and ran after it just as the takeout box skittered toward the edge of the bench. Lily grabbed it before it tumbled onto the ground. Shirley returned a moment later with the crumpled paper sack, then opened her cloth bag so they could stuff the garbage inside.
The act of chasing down their trash had dissipated some of Shirley’s tension; now she seemed looser limbed, or at least, resigned. “Anyway,” she said, “George Choy came by the Eastern Pearl the other day to ask my father to sponsor the beauty pageant, and he said I should enter—Mr. Choy did—and I thought, why not? I’m just as pretty as last year’s winner, and they never get enough girls to enter, and it would be good for business. If I enter, the Eastern Pearl will get plenty of advertising at the New Year festival.”
A few years ago, the contest had been moved from the Fourth of July to Chinese New Year, and it had gotten bigger every year. The winner was expected to lead the New Year parade.
“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.
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