فصل 27

Chapter 27: The Night Market

Over the next two days the six of us spent a lot of time together in my room, playing cards and watching whatever American television shows we could find, which consisted mostly of old Clint Eastwood movies. Nichelle never came over. She was still angry about being left out of the last meeting and kept to herself.

The evening of the second day Ostin, Jack, Ian, and I watched television in the dark while McKenna read in the corner, using her finger as a book light. Taylor was just staring out the window when she suddenly broke. “I’ve got to get out of here,” she said, turning back. “I’m going.” “You’re going where?” I said.

“Out,” she replied. “I heard someone in the lobby say there’s a night market only a few miles from here.” McKenna put down her book. “I want to go.” “Ben said not to leave the hotel,” Ostin said.

“It’s not going to hurt anyone if we go out for an hour,” Taylor said. “No one will know.” “Everyone will know,” Ostin said. “We stand out. Except McKenna.” “They won’t know who we are,” Taylor said. “It’s not like we’re the only foreigners in this city.” She crossed her arms. “I’m going.” She looked at McKenna. “You with me?” McKenna glanced apologetically at Ostin. “Sorry. I’ve got to get out too.” Taylor looked at me. “Will you come? Please?” I turned to Ian. “What do you think?” He shrugged. “I don’t think it’s a big deal. I think Taylor’s right. There will probably be a lot of foreigners at the night market.” I looked at Jack. “What do you think?” “I don’t think it matters.”

I knew Taylor well enough to know that she wasn’t going to back down, and I wasn’t about to let her go without me. “All right,” I said. “But only for an hour. And we stick together.” “Will you come?” McKenna asked Ostin.

“If everyone else does,” he said.

“How about you?” she asked Jack.

“I’ll go.”

“I’m not going,” Ian said.

“Why not?” McKenna asked.

“I’m not into shopping.”

“It’s not about the shopping,” Taylor said. “It’s the looking.” “I can look from here.”

“I would feel better if you came with us,” I said. “If there’s a problem, you’ll see it before the rest of us.” He didn’t look too happy about it, but he said, “All right.” “What about Nichelle?” McKenna asked.

“We’d better at least ask her,” I said. “She’s still mad that we left her out last time.” “I’ll ask her,” Taylor said.

“We’ll meet you by the elevator,” I said.

While Taylor walked back to her room, I turned off the television and the rest of us went out into the hall. A moment later Taylor walked out of her room followed by Nichelle.

“You’re coming,” I said to Nichelle.

“Thanks for the invite,” she said. I couldn’t tell from her tone if she was being snarky or sincere.

As we stepped into the elevator Taylor handed me her room key. “Would you mind holding this for me? I don’t have any front pockets.” I took the key from her.

“And my lip gloss?”

“Sure.” I just looked at her.

“What?”

“Anything else?”

She smiled. “Nope.”

The seven of us took the elevator down together. Ostin stopped at the concierge desk for directions, then met up with us near the front doors.

“She says we’ll have to take a taxi. She wrote down the address.” He held up a paper covered with Chinese characters.

We showed the paper to one of the hotel’s attendants, who signaled for two taxis and told each of them the address. Taylor, Nichelle, and I got in one of the cabs, while Jack, McKenna, Ostin, and Ian got in the other. We rode with the windows down, and the cool night air combined with the sounds and smells of the city to create a dizzying panorama.

“Man, we’re not in Idaho,” I said.

“Definitely not Idaho,” Taylor said.

Nichelle glanced over at us but said nothing.

Our cabs let us off near the corner of a crowded city block. The night market was a bright pulsating beast of electric lights, music, and throngs of humanity. The pungent smells of food from sidewalk vendors filled the air. Some of the scents were definitely more pleasant than others.

The market took up at least eight city blocks, and the inner streets were blocked off to cars. People flowed between the buildings like a river flooding its banks. Most of those around us were Chinese but, as Taylor had guessed, there were also many tourists and foreigners, which made me feel more relaxed.

“Aren’t you glad we came?” Taylor said, taking in the ambience. “This is a lot funner than sitting in our rooms.” “ ’Funner’ isn’t a word,” Ostin said.

“Did you understand me?” Taylor asked.

Ostin blinked. “Yes.”

“Then it’s a word,” she replied.

We joined in with the crowd’s flow, letting it pull us through the labyrinth of the market. In addition to the stores that lined both sides of the streets, merchants spread blankets down in the middle of the road to display their wares: knockoff Chanel and Louis Vuitton purses, sunglasses, T-shirts, and a million other knickknacks.

As we passed a booth a man shouted something to McKenna in Chinese.

“What did he say?” she asked Ostin.

“He asked if you want a tattoo.”

“Why would I want a tattoo?” she said.

“They’re not permanent,” Ostin said. “They’re hemp. They’ll wash off in a few days.” “Why don’t you get one?” McKenna said.

Ostin glanced at Jack’s tattoo, then back at her. “Maybe I will.” “Do it,” she said, making it sound like a dare.

“Okay, I will.” He walked into the man’s booth. The walls were covered with black-and-white paper displays of art ranging from Chinese characters to American cartoon characters. “Check this one out,” Ostin said, pointing to a drawing of a dragon. “I want that.” “You’re getting a tattoo?” I asked.

“Yes. This one is really cool. It’s kind of like Jack’s.” “Go for it, wild boy,” Taylor said.

“Why are you encouraging him?” I said.

“It might be good for him,” she said. “It’s probably the most rebellious thing he’s ever done.” “I’m doing it,” Ostin said resolutely. He said to the man, “Wo yau jei ge.” He pointed to the tattoo.

“Hau, hau,” the man said. He gestured to a stool. “Ching dzwo.” Ostin sat. The man rolled Ostin’s sleeve up to his shoulder, then wiped his arm with an alcohol towelette. He fished a plastic stencil out of a large box and put it up against Ostin’s upper arm.

“Jeli, hau?”

“Hau,” Ostin said. He looked at me. “He just wants to know if this is where I want it.” The man taped the stencil to Ostin’s arm, then turned on a small air compressor. He adjusted the spray on an airbrush, and then, holding it a few inches from Ostin’s arm, began making swiping motions, spraying the stencil with blackish-brown ink. A crowd of Taiwanese gathered around the booth to watch. Ostin smiled at his audience. I think he felt pretty cool.

After the man finished, he peeled back the stencil, then dusted it with some kind of powder.

“How does it look?” he asked McKenna, bulging what little bicep he had.

“Cool,” she said, hiding a grin.

Ostin asked Nichelle, “What do you think?” “It’s cool,” she said, though she wasn’t even looking at it. I was glad Ostin had asked her. It was the first time someone, other than Taylor or me, had included her in something.

We continued walking deeper into the market. A few minutes later we walked by a booth where a man was selling leather shoes. He was sitting on the ground next to his wares applying MADE IN ITALY stamps to the inner soles of his shoes.

“Look,” I said to Taylor, pointing at the man.

She shook her head. “That’s just wrong.” “Look at these,” Jack said, holding up a pair of leather sneakers. “They’re only twelve bucks. And they’re Adidas.” “Look again,” Ian said.

Jack examined the shoes, then laughed. “Abibas. I don’t care, I’m still buying them.” “These clothes around here are pretty fashion forward,” McKenna said.

“That’s because Taiwan produces so many of the world’s clothes that they have the new fashions before they hit Europe or the U.S.,” Ostin said.

At the end of the fourth street, a few yards from the corner, an oily-faced man was standing behind a vinyl-topped card table with a crowd gathered around him. On the table were three walnut shells.

“What’s this?” Taylor asked.

“It’s a shell game,” Ostin said. “One of the shells has a pea underneath it. You pay him something; then he shuffles the shells around. Then, if you choose the shell with the pea, they have to pay you. It’s a scam.” Just then the man pointed at me. “You, Mr. American. You pay five hundred Taiwanese dollar. If you tell which nut has pea, I give you thousand back. You double your money.” Then he lifted all three walnuts, exposing a pea under the middle one. The people standing around him were all looking at me.

“What is that, like twenty dollars?” I said.

“Don’t do it,” Ostin said. “It’s a scam.” “I can’t lose,” I said. “Ian can tell me where the pea is.” “Ostin’s right,” Taylor said. “You shouldn’t do it.” More people gathered around us.

“If he’s ripping people off he deserves to lose,” I said.

“Let’s do it,” Ian said.

Taylor rolled her eyes. “It’s a bad idea.” “No, it’s not.” I handed the man five hundred yuan. “Okay. Double my money.” “Sank you,” he said. He lifted the shell again to show me the pea; then he quickly shuffled the shells and stopped. “Where the pea?” he said.

“Which one is it under?” I asked Ian.

“It’s on the right.”

I pointed at the right shell. “It’s under that one.” The man lifted the walnut. The pea was gone.

“He has it in his hand,” Ian said. “He pulled it out as he was lifting the shell.” “I told you it was a scam,” Ostin said.

I pointed at his hand. “It’s in your hand,” I said. “You cheated.” “No.” He put his hands on the two other shells.

“He just slid it into the shell on the left,” Ian said.

I pointed at it. “You just put it there. You cheated.” “Of course he cheated,” Ostin said. “That’s why it’s a scam.” “Give me my money back,” I said.

“You lose,” the man said.

“No, you cheated,” I said. “Give me my money back.” The man’s eyes narrowed. “You lose.” The crowd sensed a confrontation and pressed in on us.

“Come on,” Taylor said. “It’s not worth it. Let’s go.” “I’m not letting this thief get away with this.” Suddenly a muscular Taiwanese man grabbed my arm. “You, America, go.” “Don’t touch me,” I said. I pulled my arm away from him.

He grabbed me again. I spun around on him. “I said don’t touch me.” Jack grabbed the guy’s arm. “Get away from him.” The man reached into his pocket.

“He has a knife,” Ian said.

At Ian’s warning I surged and the man dropped to the ground like a bowling ball. His head made a dull thud against the asphalt. I turned back to the man with the shells. He looked terrified. “Give me my money. Now.” “Yes, Mr. American, sir.” He handed me back the bill I’d given him. I snatched it from him. “You owe me a thousand,” I said.

“Okay,” he said. “There is no problem.” Before I had the other bill Taylor grabbed me by the arm and pulled me away from the man. The crowd parted around us as if everyone was afraid of touching me.

“That was stupid,” Taylor said. “Do you know how many people just saw that?” “The guy was a thief,” I said.

“You just called all that attention to us for twenty dollars.” “It’s the principle,” I said.

“The principle is that you just endangered all of our lives.” I groaned. “You’re right. I just lost my temper.” “You don’t have the luxury of losing your temper,” Taylor said. “Save it for Hatch.” Just then McKenna said, “My wallet’s missing.” “Oh great,” Ostin said. “That’s part of the scam. While everyone was focused on the shell game, they were pickpocketing everyone.” “I’ll find it,” Ian said.

“I’ll go with you,” Jack said. “I’m going to pound that guy.” “No, wait,” I said. “Taylor’s right, we need to get things under control.” I turned to McKenna. “Just let it go. I’ll get you more money.” She breathed out slowly. “All right.” “Let’s go,” I said.

“Wait,” Taylor said, looking around. “Where’s Nichelle?” “She’s over there,” Ian said, pointing.

Nichelle was standing in the middle of the street while crowds of people walked around her. She had a peculiar look on her face. “Nichelle,” I said.

She just looked around.

I shouted louder. “Nichelle!”

She turned and looked at me. She wore a strange expression.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

She hesitated before answering. “I don’t know.” “What do you mean?” I said.

She looked around again, then said, “I don’t know.” Taylor said, “C’mon, let’s get out of here.” “Let’s go,” I said to Nichelle.

We all started walking again.

“What’s up with her?” Ostin whispered.

“I don’t know,” I said.

We walked farther down the street until McKenna pointed to sign in front of a well-lit building. “Shaved ice. I want one.” “It’s called a bing or bau bing,” Ostin said. “In Chinese, bing means ice.” “I want a bing too,” Taylor said.

All of us, including Nichelle, who was still acting a little spacey, walked inside the shop. The front counter was lined with bins of brightly colored fruit: mango, guava, bananas, papayas, and many I’d never seen before.

“What’s this?” I asked Ostin, pointing to a hairy brown-and-white fruit.

“Lung yen,” he said. “Dragon eyes. They’re good.” The shop’s proprietor assumed that McKenna was our translator. “Nimen yau shemma?” She turned to Ostin. “What did he say?” “He wants to know what we want.”

“I want a bing with mango.”

“Lyang ge mangwo nyounai,” Ostin said.

“Hau, hau, hau,” the man said so quickly that it sounded like he was laughing. He held two plastic bowls under the spinning blade of an ice shaver until the bowls were heaped with finely shaved ice. He took two mangoes from a bin, cut the fruit from them, and carefully placed them on the ice. Then he poured sugarcane juice over the concoction, followed by sweetened condensed milk. He pressed a plastic spoon into each one of the bowls, then set them on the counter in front of Ostin. Ostin handed him some money.

“What kind do you want?” I asked Taylor.

“One with bananas and chocolate. And that milk stuff on top.” She suddenly smiled. “Look, that shirt over there makes me happy.” “What?” I said.

“That shirt in the window,” she said. “I’m going in that clothing store for a minute. I’ll be right back.” She headed toward the store.

I turned back. “Ostin, how do you say banana?” “Syang jyau,” he said.

“Syang jyau,” I repeated. “And chocolate?” “It sounds like chocolate. Chow-ke-li.” The man at the counter looked at me. “You want bananas and chocolate?” he said in English.

I flushed. “Yes, two of them, please.” He made two more bings.

While Ian, Jack, and Nichelle ordered their bings, I carried mine and Taylor’s over to the table where Ostin and McKenna were already eating. I sat down next to Ostin.

“Where’s Taylor?” McKenna asked.

“She went in that store right there. She liked that shirt. How’s your bing?” “Delicious. Try it.”

I took a bite—it was delicious—but decided to wait for Taylor to come out before eating any more. After five minutes Ostin said, “Dude, your bing is melting.” “I know. I’m waiting for Taylor.”

“I’ll go get her,” McKenna said.

“That’s all right,” I said. “I’ll do it.” Just as I stood, Taylor walked out of the store. She looked around for us, then came over. “Sorry that took so long. They didn’t speak any English.” “Did you buy something?” McKenna asked.

“No. I didn’t like how anything looked on me.” “I got your bing,” I said.

She looked at me. “What?”

“Your bing,” I said, looking at her bowl. “It’s melting.” “Oh, I’m sorry.” She suddenly rubbed her face. “I don’t think I could eat it. My head hurts.” “You have a headache?” McKenna asked.

“Yes. It’s weird. It just came on.” She glanced over at Nichelle, who was sitting alone at the table next to ours, then back at me. She leaned close to me and whispered, “You don’t feel anything from her, do you? It feels like . . . you know.” I glanced over at Nichelle. Something was definitely going on with her. She looked spooked. “She better not be using her power,” I said.

Nichelle noticed us looking at her. For a moment she stared at Taylor with a dark, peculiar expression.

“Wait, close your eyes, guys,” McKenna said. “Taylor, your blouse is undone.” Taylor looked down. “Oh, thanks. I must have missed a button when I was trying on that blouse.” I took a few more bites of my bing; then Taylor said, “I still don’t feel well. Can we go back?” “No problem,” I said, standing. “Guys, we’re going back.” “We’ll come with you,” McKenna said.

“Ian and I want to check out some throwing stars,” Jack said. “We’ll meet you back at the hotel.” “You better ask your roomie if she’s coming,” I said to Taylor.

Taylor just looked at me. “What?”

“Your roommate.”

She still looked at me blankly.

“Nichelle?” I said.

She blushed. “Oh, sorry,” she said. “I just feel so spacey. Will you ask her? I can’t deal with her right now.” “Sure.” I walked over to Nichelle. “We’re going back. Do you want to come with us?” She hesitated for a moment, then said, “No. I’m going to stay a little longer.” Something about the way she said it made me feel uneasy. “All right. Just don’t stay out too late. We need to be careful.” “Yeah,” she said.

The four of us walked back to the main road and hailed a cab. On the way back to the hotel Taylor leaned forward against the driver’s seat holding her head.

“Still hurts?” I asked.

“It feels like a migraine,” she said.

“Have you ever had a migraine before?” I asked.

“No,” she said.

At the hotel I walked her to her room. “I don’t have a key,” she said. “Nichelle must have it.” “No, you gave it to me,” I said, handing it to her.

“Sorry, it’s just this headache. I can’t think straight.” “Do you still think it’s Nichelle?” “I don’t know. Not from this distance. But I don’t feel like myself. Maybe she learned a new trick.” She forced a smile. “Or maybe I just need some rest.” “You’ll feel better in the morning,” I said. “Good night.” I leaned forward to kiss her, which, oddly, seemed to surprise her. She smiled apologetically, then quickly kissed me back. “Sorry. Good night.” She opened her door and disappeared inside her room.

I walked back to my room, undressed, and climbed into bed. Something didn’t feel right. I couldn’t figure out what it was, but I felt a growing sense of dread, as if something bad was about to happen. I wondered what Nichelle was up to.