The Girl in the Torch (15 page)

O
VER THE NEXT FEW
days, Sarah managed to find time in the afternoon to work with Bao Yu on her English. She never mentioned seeing Mrs. Fat selling the bracelet.

At first Sarah started with the basic alphabet and then worked her way up to simple words. For reading lessons she used Maryk's book of Aesop's fables, and for writing instruction, she made Bao Yu copy sentences from old newspapers. Since they had no paper to work with, Sarah had her copy the words into the margins of the newspapers themselves, until every inch of blank space was covered with densely packed words.

Sarah tried to make the lessons fun. She would dictate silly rhyming sentences that would be easy for Bao Yu to spell.

“The rat sat on the hat,” Sarah said.

“Why would he sit on a hat?” Bao Yu said. “Wouldn't he wear it?”

“Rats don't wear hats,” Sarah said. “And I haven't taught you how to spell the word
wear
yet. Just write what I tell you.”

“The rat sat on the hat . . . ,” Bao Yu said, as she wrote.

“Then he was bit by the cat,” Sarah continued. “And they were both hit with a bat.”

“And it made them flat?” Bao Yu added.

“Splat,” Sarah said, nodding. Both girls giggled.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and both girls fell silent and looked at each other. Sarah mouthed the words, “Your mother?” Bao Yu shrugged. Another knock.

“You going to open door?” Mrs. Lee's voice called. “Or make me stand in hall all day?”

The girls quickly hid their writing lesson beneath the mattress, and Sarah opened the door. Mrs. Lee entered carrying a small paper bag.

“About time,” she said impatiently.

“Sorry,” Sarah said.

“I know what you do in here,” she said.

“What do you mean? We aren't doing anything wrong,” Sarah said nervously. Bao Yu stared down at her feet.

“Didn't say you did something wrong,” Mrs. Lee said. “But it my house. I know what go on. Find newspapers covered with letters and words in trash every day.”

“I only used old papers,” Sarah started to explain. “Once I knew everyone had already read them.”

“I know,” Mrs. Lee said. “I brought you this. To share.”

Mrs. Lee handed Sarah the bag; inside were two small lined notebooks and two brand-new pencils.

“You can use to practice,” Mrs. Lee said.

Sarah and Bao Yu each stared in awe at the gift. Neither girl was used to receiving presents.

“Thank you, Mrs. Lee,” Bao Yu said.

“Thank you very much,” Sarah said.

“You will not tell my mother?” Bao Yu said.

Mrs. Lee looked at her and shook her head.

“It is good thing when girls help other girls. Sometime the only way girls can survive is when they help each other. You keep going with lesson now. Sarah, you still have half hour before we start dinner.”

Mrs. Lee abruptly turned and exited.

“C
HECKMATE
,” M
ARYK SAID, SLAPPING
the table with delight as he captured her king.

Sarah stared at the board in disbelief, trying to figure out what she had done wrong.

For several days she had been playing chess with Maryk and the other boarders during her free time. And until that moment no one had been able to beat her. But Maryk's game had improved significantly with each day, and now he finally had his first victory.

He rose from the chair and did a little dance with her captured king and queen. “Told you I was just a little rusty.”

“Let's play again,” she said, quickly resetting her pieces.

“Oh no,” he said, sitting back down with a satisfied grin. “I want to savor this win for at least a day before I give you another chance to make me look like a fool. You should always remember that when you beat someone at something, you want to give them a little time to marinate in the defeat so it really sticks to 'em.”

“What is marinate?”

“When you soak something in a liquid so it picks up the flavor. Next time we play, I want you to still have the taste of losing on you.”

“I will be sure to take a bath tonight.”

“I feel like celebrating my victory. Why don't you run around the corner to Kang's shop and buy me some fresh tobacco. Buy yourself a sweet, too. I'm feeling generous.”

He handed her a nickel.

“I like Kenwood brand pipe tobacco,” he said. “Comes in a green tin. Should be three cents. That'll leave you two cents for some sweets. Go on.”

Sarah went down the block to Kang's Corner, a dry goods store that sold tobacco, candy, and other small household items. Kang, the proprietor, was a heavyset man who stood behind the shop's counter wearing a white coat that buttoned from his collar to his knees.

She found Maryk's tobacco and then took her time picking out her candy, which was displayed on shelves behind the counter. There were dozens of glass jars filled with lollipops and candy canes of all colors and stripes, chocolate taffy, candied fruit wedges, gumdrops, and licorice whips.

She finally settled on a selection of grape, apple, mint, and cherry candy canes. They would give her the most flavor for her money.

She handed Kang the nickel and he deposited everything into a paper sack.

On the way back to the apartment, Sarah unwrapped one of the candy canes. She closed her eyes with pleasure as she took her first lick of the grape-flavored treat. If she licked carefully, she could make it last for hours.

As she rounded the corner onto her street, Sarah stopped short when she saw a group of men gathered outside the front entrance of Mrs. Lee's building. Terror ran through her as she realized that none of these men were Chinese. They all wore sharp blue uniforms with black leather belts with brass buckles. Polished dark wood nightsticks hung at their sides.

Her mind froze.

Are they here for me?

The front door of the house opened and more men in uniform led out the four Chinese girls. The girls looked helpless and confused as they were ushered to a large horse-drawn wagon that waited on the street. One of the men opened the back door of the wagon, which had a small window crisscrossed with iron bars, and pushed the first girl inside. Next, Mrs. Lee emerged, with another tall man in uniform pulling her by the arm.

“You make mistake,” Mrs. Lee said. “Everything legal here!”

“Tell it to the judge,” the policeman said.

He maneuvered her toward the other girls, who were being loaded into the back of the wagon.

Finally, Maryk emerged from the building, led out by two police officers, one on each side. Squinting into the sunlight, Maryk paused at the doorway.

He looked out onto the street and his eyes found Sarah. They stared at each other for a moment, his face filled with concern. Then he quickly shook his head.

He wanted her to stay away.

Just then, Sarah saw Johnson emerge from behind the police wagon, watching the raid, wearing a satisfied smirk. His small, spectacled eyes followed the direction of Maryk's glance and caught sight of Sarah.

“That girl is one of them!” he shouted.

Sarah's eyes widened with fear.

“Run!”
Maryk mouthed.

“H
EY, YOU
! H
OLD IT RIGHT THERE
!”

Sarah dropped the paper bag she was holding and took off toward Mott Street. She glanced over her shoulder. Two of the police officers were running after her.

“Someone stop that girl!” one yelled.

She almost gagged as the grape candy momentarily got stuck in the back of her throat. She pulled it out of her mouth and threw it to the ground.

The Chinese men on the street looked up as Sarah sped by them, followed by the lumbering policemen. Because of her size, Sarah had an easier time navigating through the sea of bodies than the men, who took out their nightsticks and used them to prod people out of the way.

“Move it!” she heard them growl. “C'mon. Out of my way!”

Sarah ran north until she came to Canal Street, a busy thoroughfare clogged with carriages, horses, and people moving across town in both directions. As she darted into the traffic, she nearly
collided with a fast-trotting horse-drawn carriage. She cut in front of the horse, her shoulder grazing the animal as she passed. The horse reared up and whinnied loudly, causing Sarah to trip and fall in the middle of the street.

The enormous animal rocked back on its muscular hind legs and raised its front hooves, ready to trample her. Sarah closed her eyes tightly, held her breath, and waited for the deathblow. But the carriage driver yanked on the reins and pulled the horse to the left. The animal's hooves crashed down beside Sarah's head and the carriage continued down the street.

Sarah opened her eyes and looked back. The policemen were right behind her now, just a few yards away.

“Stop that girl!”

She felt sure they would catch her and considered just giving herself up.

Just then, an old bearded man with a pushcart piled high with multicolored rags stepped into the path of the policemen, momentarily blocking their progress.

“Hey!” the policemen yelled at the old man. “Move this thing!”

Seizing the opportunity, Sarah sprang to her feet and sprinted across Canal. She ran a few blocks north, having no idea where she was heading or where she should go. She turned right down a smaller side street, then took an immediate left down another.

Finally, she was able to duck into an alley and hide behind a half dozen wooden barrels with rusted metal lids. Laundry lines filled with drying clothes zigzagged up over her head between the
two buildings that formed the alley, filtering the waning sunlight into jagged yellow flares.

She fought to quiet her breathing as she peered out from behind the barrels and stared into the street. After just a few seconds, her body tensed as she saw the two policemen enter her field of vision. She pulled herself back behind the barrels as one of them stepped into the mouth of the alley. Sarah held her breath, willing herself to be as still and silent as possible.

The policeman took his nightstick and slammed it on top of the first barrel with a loud clang. Sarah flinched.

“All right, come out!” he said. “I know you're in there.”

Clang! Clang!
He slammed his stick on the barrel again and then waited in the echo. Sarah bit her bottom lip and stifled a cry of fear.

Clang!

Another beat of silence.

“She ain't in here,” he called to his partner. “You see her out there?”

“No,” the other called. “She must have cut down Kenmare.”

“Great,” the first policeman said. “My feet are killing me.”

He reattached the nightstick to his belt and ambled after his partner.

Sarah remained still for a long time, making sure they weren't setting a trap for her. Finally, she peered out from behind the barrel. The alley was empty and the sky was darkening so the street disappeared under a veil of gray.

Unlike Mott, this street wasn't crowded with as many pedestrians. And most of the people she saw were not Chinese. She heard snippets of English and Italian being spoken, and even some Yiddish. She decided she wouldn't venture out into the street again until night had fallen.

Sarah huddled behind the barrels for another two hours as the air grew colder and a chill settled into her skin and penetrated her bones. The same questions kept rattling through her mind. Why were the police there? Had Smitty and Miss Jean been arrested too? And what about Bao Yu and Mrs. Fat? Maybe they had all been arrested because of her.

No matter the cause, she knew she could not go back there. Her empty stomach twisted at the thought of her new friends in jeopardy. But the more pressing question was, where would she go now?

Just then Sarah felt a small tugging on the back of her coat, and she craned her neck over her shoulder to see what it was. A fat black rat was nibbling on the hem of her garment.

Sarah screamed and jerked up. But the rat hung on, its sharp yellow teeth sunk into the fabric.

S
ARAH JUMPED UP AND
down, but the rat just dug its claws in and began to climb up her back. Her skin crawled as the animal inched higher and higher, until she could feel it touching the edge of her hair. She whipped off her coat and swung it against the wall of a building. Finally, the rat fell free and scurried away. Sarah bolted out of the alley as fast as she could.

She ran past vendors closing up for the night, stalls that sold tomatoes and big jugs of olive oil, and stores with huge sausages and cheeses on strings hanging in the windows. There were no Chinese people to be seen. Everyone seemed to be speaking a different language. She had heard Mrs. Lee and Miss Jean mention an area of the city called Little Italy but hadn't known that it was so close by.

Sarah finally allowed herself to slow down to a fast walk, trying to put more distance between herself and the police who had been searching for her. She kept her eyes open for stray pieces of food and potential hiding places, but there were none. She passed
several newsboys, trying to unload their last papers.

“Please, I've got to eat tonight,” one said.

So do I,
she thought.

She suddenly felt desperately hungry and cursed herself for dropping the candy when she ran. Sarah also wished she had the bag of coins she had earned with Tommy, but it was still buried beneath Maryk's mattress.

She came to another wide cross street lined with shops with more foot and horse traffic. A massive elevated train track ran up and down the street, casting everything below in deep, dark shadows. The wind howled and she pulled her coat tighter around herself. All the shops in this area were closed, but many dingy taverns were open. Groups of men huddled around the entrances to the bars, smoking cigars and talking and laughing with rough voices.

She cast her eyes down and kept moving. Past the dim lights of the taverns, the sidewalks were even darker and she saw other broken men sitting on the sidewalks in grimy heaps with their backs up against darkened buildings, drinking out of bottles and mumbling to themselves.

A loud clap of thunder shook the ground as a heavy rain started to fall from the dark sky. Sarah looked down every alley, searching for cover or a place to camp for the night, yet every dry spot was already taken by a bum or a newsie. And she suspected that these streets were too dangerous for her to sleep outside.

Where would she go? Who would take her in? Her relatives in
Brooklyn were gone. Maryk and Mrs. Lee had been taken away by the police. At least in the crown room of the Lady she had been protected from the elements. But there was no way to get back there at night.

Passing yet another tavern, she heard a rowdy crowd inside singing along to an out-of-tune piano. Snippets of the lyrics appeared to be warnings.

       
I struck a place that they called a “dive,”

       
I was in luck to get out alive. . . .

       
The Bow'ry! The Bow'ry!

       
They say such things,

       
And they do strange things

       
On the Bow'ry! The Bow'ry!

       
I'll never go there anymore!

Despite the romping melody of the song, something about it sounded menacing to Sarah. Every voice seemed thickened with drink. Yet she knew she had to take cover, so she steeled herself and ducked inside.