Nowhere Girl by A. J. Paquette Page B

not learned about in my encyclopedias. This train does not run on or below the ground, but on a track built high in the air, on special columns dotted across the city. We tour the wide green gardens of Dusit Park, view the temple grounds of the Wat Saket, and finally, as the sun rises higher in the dripping sky, we park the motorbike and climb more than three hundred steps to the top of the Golden Mount. Chaluay tells me with some pride, as though it was partly her doing, that until fifty years ago this was the highest spot in Bangkok. Now, of course, there are skyscrapers and many other structures taller than this.
    But I look down from this height and am awed. The view is like nothing I have seen before—in fact, it is nothing I have seen before. To be this far above the ground—imagine! The city stretches out below me like a jeweled carpet, every rooftop a precious stone. I feel like the queen of a magnificent city.
    â€œAnd this is just one city,” I whisper. The idea feels strange to me, but for the first time I start to understand how truly big the world is. For one crazy moment I’m so filled with emotion that I want to grab Chaluay in a giant hug, the way I would Mama as a child. But I know I can’t do that. I sneak a glance at Chaluay, who is also looking out over the city, and caution myself again to control my show of feelings. Play the part, I tell myself. Be normal.
    â€œSo, you are going to America soon.” Chaluay’s voice drags my thoughts back into focus.
    â€œYes,” I whisper, though this is something I have been loath to think about. “Soon.”
    â€œYou have family there?”
    â€œYes.” That much has to be true, though I know of none of them except my grandmother. But Chaluay is waiting for more details. I try to think of what else I can add without being entirely untruthful. “Yes, many relatives. They are all … businessmen. They are very anxious to see me after so long.” I cringe at how awkward my newborn story sounds. But I now see that Chaluay, staring off in the distance, seems to be lost in thoughts of her own.
    â€œYou will fly there, I suppose?” she says. My mouth drops open in confusion and she quickly adds, “On an airplane?”
    I blush and nod. Of course. To cover my embarrassment I pat my bag. “My mother left me the money to travel. Soon I will need to go downtown to find out about airplanes that go to the United States.”
    Her eyes flick briefly to my bag and she shrugs. “I will show you something very special next,” she says. “You cannot visit Bangkok without seeing the great river, Mae Nam Chao Phraya.”
    â€œRiver?” I echo. I know all about large bodies of water, of course. I’ve learned the names of the oceans and can recite the chemical composition of lake water. But none of those were ever real to me. They were blue blobs on an atlas page, nothing more. The tub in the bathing room back on the inside, that’s the only pool of water I know. That was a busy room, full of noise and confusion. But the water itself was shallow and contained, a place to wash and clean and sometimes even play. The thought of being near running water as deep and dark and wide as my worst fears makes me feel like a child again, needing to curl up in my mother’s arms. I can hardly imagine, in this moment, a thing I fear more.
    I twist the strap on my wristwatch. “What time does your shift begin?” It is past eleven already.
    Chaluay looks at her own watch and frowns. “It is later than I thought. The rain is getting harder, too. Well, let’s get something to eat. You said you have things to do in town?”
    I nod, and she turns to head back down the stairs. “That will take care of today. The river will just have to wait.”
    She smiles, but there is something crooked about it, like it has been sewn on and the stitching is starting to come ever so slightly loose.