Fox Girl by Nora Okja Keller Page A

“You’re early.”
    Lobetto swung his bag off his shoulder and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Eh, Mousie,” he said, tossing one up. “My mother?”
    â€œNot here.” Mousie caught the pack and motioned for Lobetto to hurry. She was small and brown with the sharp, pointed chin of a rodent. “Heard she went up to Tongae hot springs with a rich GI.”
    Lobetto pitched two packs in quick succession.
    â€œWhite guy this time,” Mousie said, her hands darting quickly for the cigarettes. She flung them behind her, her eyes ready for the next one.
    â€œBet he don’t know about me,” Lobetto grunted as he threw the last of the Lucky Strikes.
    â€œNo,” giggled Mousie, “I bet he don’t.” She faced the room and lifted her hand to close the window.
    â€œWait!” Sookie yelped.
    â€œShup!” said Lobetto, waving his arm to silence her.
    â€œAsk about my mom,” she whispered.
    Mousie scowled down at us. “Does your girlfriend want to join us up here? We got plenty of space in the Rose Room.”
    â€œYou know Duk Hee?” Lobetto asked.
    Mousie turned to talk to the others in the room. When she looked back, she jerked her head to the side. “Try the Chrysanthemum Room. Two windows down, the one with the bars.”
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    I didn’t recognize the face that came to the window, not even when Sookie cried, “Omoni!” The face looked pale and gaunt, drawn with harsh lines of panic.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” Sookie’s mother hissed.
    â€œMama,” Sookie wailed. “I miss you. I’m scared. I’m hungry.”
    Sookie’s mother pinned me with her black eyes. “Take her to your house,” she ordered.
    I opened my mouth to speak, though I wasn’t sure what I would have said. In the end, I only stared up at her, gaping.
    â€œNo, Mama,” Sookie said. “I’ll be okay. Just give me some money so I can wait at home for you.” Her arms reached toward the window, as if begging her mother to lift her into a hug.
    â€œGo with Hyun Jin,” she snapped.
    Sookie dropped her arms and looked at the ground. “The mother doesn’t like me.”
    Sookie’s mother stared at her for so long, I thought she must have not heard her.
    â€œShe said my mother doesn’t like her,” I repeated, as loud as I dared.
    When Sookie’s mother’s face reddened and her lips thinned, I stammered, “I’m sorry. It’s not me. It’s my mother, I—”
    Without looking at me, she said, “Never mind about the mother. You tell Hyun Jin’s father I said for him to take you in.”
    Stretching an arm through the bars, Sookie’s mother held out a square of knotted silk. She dropped it, the red and blue tails of the knot fluttering like flags on the way down. Though Sookie stood under the window, ready to catch the purse, it dropped into the dirt beside her. Lobetto streaked forward, scooped up the prize and raced toward the fence.
    â€œHurry up,” he said.
    â€œLobetto!” Sookie’s mother scolded, though he couldn’t hear her. “Sookie,” she said, her face pressed against the bars as if she could squeeze herself out with the words, “don’t let anyone steal that money from you. That’s yours. That’s yours. It’s the only thing keeping you from this place.”
    After dividing the money into thirds—Lobetto clucking his tongue at the meager hoard and saying “pitiful” while he pocketed the won—Sookie reknotted the square of silk and wrapped it around her wrist with the weight of it cupped in her palm. Our shadows lengthening behind us, we decided to spend part of the money on train tickets back home. I was anxious to avoid questions from my parents; Lobetto was anxious not to miss out on his club circuit; and we took Sookie’s silence as assent.
    Sookie and I pushed toward