got most of them already.”
“They can barely move. To catch a grasshopper, you have to be fast.”
I took out two peanut candies from my pocket and gave him one. Hoi had expected it all along. I always brought some sweets and they would be the last things we ate.
Hoi bit a small piece from his candy and sucked on it to make it last longer. “You are my best friend.”
“You are my best friend too,” I said.
He grinned broadly. “Hey, look at all those dragonflies on the hedge. You want to catch some and catch frogs with them?”
“Yes, but it’s late. I’d better get home before my mother sends someone looking for me.”
“I’ll go with you to your gate.”
It was part of our routine, the fifteen-minute walk along the inner village road that took the better part of an hour. We were of an age without a notion of time. We picked up sticks, rattled fences, beat hedges, chased cats, and threw stones at birds.
“Here it comes…,” Hoi whispered, gesturing with his eyes to a shadow creeping behind the hedge.
I realized with a jolt that we were crossing the territory of the Beast, the biggest and meanest dog in the village. I heard branches snapping. Without a single warning bark, Beast shot out of the bush, punching a hole through the foliage.
We sprinted. Beast closed the distance in a flash.
Hoi shouted, “Now!”
We spun around. The monster was right behind us. I flung the first stone without aiming and missed. Hoi struck Beast smack on the head and made it wobble. I whizzed another one into its flank. Hoi threw so fast his arm blurred. He didn’t miss once. Snarling insanely, the dog circled and tried lunging at us from the side. Hoi hurled another stone into its jaws. Beast stumbled, yelped once, retreating. We kept pelting until it bolted back to the safety of the hedge. Beast vented blood-chilling barks, challenging us to come closer.
I was tingly from head to toe, flushed with fear. We jogged to a safe distance before cheering. Hoi and I slapped each other on the back, congratulating and puffing ourselves up like heroes. Grinning, we skipped down the street.
“It’s going to get us one of these days.”
“I hope the Walkers get him first,” said Hoi.
“He’s too strong for them. Besides, any dog that mean must taste terrible.”
Hoi laughed. “I bet he’d be tasty. His owner must have fed him well for him to get that big.”
Neither of us had ever eaten dog meat, but that didn’t stop us from speculating what it might taste like. The discussion lasted us the rest of the way to my family’s estate. We stopped at the side gate. It was still open. The sentry was expecting me. Farther down the road, a huge crowd queued up at the main entrance. It was nearing time for the evening soup.
I asked Hoi, “You’re going to take the long way back?”
“Yes. I don’t think I can hold off Beast on my own.”
I wished I could walk him back to his house. “Here, take some more stones, just in case.”
Hoi touched my arm and loped away. I watched him from my gate. He always looked back right before disappearing behind the first turn in the road.
Hoi shouted at the top of his lungs, “I’ll bring some dragonflies, and we’ll catch lots of frogs tomorrow!”
It was my lasting image of him, my best friend, unalterable by all that was to come. I could not remember him as a leader of Uncle Ho’s Youth Brigade or a hero in the Resistance. But I remembered the distance between us; our symmetry. I remembered him, a shirtless, barefooted boy standing in the thickening dusk, just a purple silhouette at the far bend of the road, inky branches curving over him, those arms of darkness, those crashing waves.
THE SOUTH
1963
12. T HE D RAFT
T he bad news came over the radio after dinner. Anh was crouching over the tin basin on the floor, washing the dishes, and I was grading my students’ papers. It was our usual routine. The announcer called my age group and then read the list of canceled
“They can barely move. To catch a grasshopper, you have to be fast.”
I took out two peanut candies from my pocket and gave him one. Hoi had expected it all along. I always brought some sweets and they would be the last things we ate.
Hoi bit a small piece from his candy and sucked on it to make it last longer. “You are my best friend.”
“You are my best friend too,” I said.
He grinned broadly. “Hey, look at all those dragonflies on the hedge. You want to catch some and catch frogs with them?”
“Yes, but it’s late. I’d better get home before my mother sends someone looking for me.”
“I’ll go with you to your gate.”
It was part of our routine, the fifteen-minute walk along the inner village road that took the better part of an hour. We were of an age without a notion of time. We picked up sticks, rattled fences, beat hedges, chased cats, and threw stones at birds.
“Here it comes…,” Hoi whispered, gesturing with his eyes to a shadow creeping behind the hedge.
I realized with a jolt that we were crossing the territory of the Beast, the biggest and meanest dog in the village. I heard branches snapping. Without a single warning bark, Beast shot out of the bush, punching a hole through the foliage.
We sprinted. Beast closed the distance in a flash.
Hoi shouted, “Now!”
We spun around. The monster was right behind us. I flung the first stone without aiming and missed. Hoi struck Beast smack on the head and made it wobble. I whizzed another one into its flank. Hoi threw so fast his arm blurred. He didn’t miss once. Snarling insanely, the dog circled and tried lunging at us from the side. Hoi hurled another stone into its jaws. Beast stumbled, yelped once, retreating. We kept pelting until it bolted back to the safety of the hedge. Beast vented blood-chilling barks, challenging us to come closer.
I was tingly from head to toe, flushed with fear. We jogged to a safe distance before cheering. Hoi and I slapped each other on the back, congratulating and puffing ourselves up like heroes. Grinning, we skipped down the street.
“It’s going to get us one of these days.”
“I hope the Walkers get him first,” said Hoi.
“He’s too strong for them. Besides, any dog that mean must taste terrible.”
Hoi laughed. “I bet he’d be tasty. His owner must have fed him well for him to get that big.”
Neither of us had ever eaten dog meat, but that didn’t stop us from speculating what it might taste like. The discussion lasted us the rest of the way to my family’s estate. We stopped at the side gate. It was still open. The sentry was expecting me. Farther down the road, a huge crowd queued up at the main entrance. It was nearing time for the evening soup.
I asked Hoi, “You’re going to take the long way back?”
“Yes. I don’t think I can hold off Beast on my own.”
I wished I could walk him back to his house. “Here, take some more stones, just in case.”
Hoi touched my arm and loped away. I watched him from my gate. He always looked back right before disappearing behind the first turn in the road.
Hoi shouted at the top of his lungs, “I’ll bring some dragonflies, and we’ll catch lots of frogs tomorrow!”
It was my lasting image of him, my best friend, unalterable by all that was to come. I could not remember him as a leader of Uncle Ho’s Youth Brigade or a hero in the Resistance. But I remembered the distance between us; our symmetry. I remembered him, a shirtless, barefooted boy standing in the thickening dusk, just a purple silhouette at the far bend of the road, inky branches curving over him, those arms of darkness, those crashing waves.
THE SOUTH
1963
12. T HE D RAFT
T he bad news came over the radio after dinner. Anh was crouching over the tin basin on the floor, washing the dishes, and I was grading my students’ papers. It was our usual routine. The announcer called my age group and then read the list of canceled
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