Page 57 of The Gods Will Sing Our Song

“Don’t worry,” Mr. Nomura says, even though I haven’t said anything. “Everything will be all right.”

Violet and I meet at midnight and go to Akira’s barrack. But when we knock on the door, there’s no answer. I tiptoe inside to see if he’s in his stupefied sleep state—not eager to find him that way again—but his barrack is empty.

“The creek!” Violet says. “Maybe he’s there?”

I’m not happy to put Violet at risk again by sneaking out of camp, but I also know that arguing is futile. We clamber under the fence and make our way to the stream. It’s even thinner now, nothing more than a pane of water shimmering over rocks. People have visited this spot often. There are a couple of dented fishing boxes, and a chair fashioned from sticks. Some of the rocks are graffitied in different handwriting, the sentiments scrawled together. Kanji mix with other words: Beat America, J & E Forever, Block 12, Groovy Baby, 357 Boyle Heights, Death to Japan, I’m the Dark Knight.

“Doesn’t look like he’s here,” I say.

“Let’s wait. He didn’t show up right away last time, either,” Violet replies. I realize I’m jittery now that it’s just me and Violet alone. I pick up a rock and send it skipping across the water. “Show-off. Let me see if my skills have improved.”

Violet snatches up a pebble. She employs the techniques I’ve shown her, and this time the rock hops twice before sinking.

“Masterful,” I say, and she smiles, pleased at her success.

“I’m very adaptable,” she replies. “And in more ways than one. I’ll have you know that last time I snuck out to meet you by the fence, I knocked over a bucket. This time, I made it without so much as brushing it.”

“Good. If your mother realized you were out here, she’d probably go under the fence herself and drown me in the creek.”

“Yes, she probably would.” I was joking, but Violet sounds so serious that I think Mrs. Aratani might actually do it. Violet picks up another pebble, but she stops, turns it over in her hands. “Mama and I have always butted heads, and it’s even worse without Otōsan to mend things between us.” She takes a breath. “I’ve been wanting to say…I’m sorry I acted like I didn’t know you when you were carrying our laundry.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I say immediately. I can’t remember the last time someone apologized to me. Somehow, it feels more intimate than kissing, and it scares the shit out of me. “It’s fine.”

“No, it wasn’t.” She watches me in the moonlight. “I don’t ever want to hurt you, Ren.”

Now that’s something I’m definitely not prepared to hear. Even after our kiss, I tried to tell myself I hadn’t gotten myself in too deep with Violet. But it’s another one of my lies. Damn things grow like weeds, watered by my fears. The truth is, I’m not getting out. Or, at least, not without a great deal of pain.

“It’s fine,” I repeat.

The pebble drops from her hands. For a moment, the only sound is the running creek and the nighttime desert.

“Oh, Ren,” she says, and there’s such understanding and heartbreak in her voice that I don’t know what to do. Maybe I should comfort her, but my throat is too tight to speak. She’s quiet for a bit, too. Then she says, “It must be nice that your mother gives you so much freedom. She must trust you.”

I’m relieved she’s changed the subject, even though the topic of my family is rife with its own land mines.

“Naw, it’s more that she has a lot going on in her own life and not a lot of room left for anything else.”

“I’m sure she loves you, though,” Violet says. “In her way.”

“She does.” I think about her charging past me earlier, pink jacket dramatizing her exit. “ ‘In her way’ is a good way of putting it. It’s a brutal kind of love. Can’t blame her too much. We have a long and proud family tradition of shocking the neighbors. And anything Emi and I did wrong got heaped onto her, too…and we’ve both done a lot.”

Violet moves to sit on the rock and motions for me to join her. I go, slowly.

“She should be proud of you,” Violet insists, and I’m surprised at how convinced she sounds.

“Why?”

“You take care of everyone,” she says. “Even when it isn’t easy.”

“Yeah, well, I often make a mess of things along the way.”

“Like…getting arrested?” Violet hedges gently toward the subject, but there’s no horror in her voice. She sounds straightforward, like my arrest isn’t some terrible thing that must hurt me every time it’s mentioned. Still, my hands go clammy, while my throat is dry. I’ve been conditioned to my shame. “What happened?”

I’m so stiff on the rock, I might as well be made from the same granite. Violet leans back, body as fluid as the water rippling past. Reminds me of her curving against the truck hub. Hell. Violet compels every story from me.

“It was thievery. Stupid stuff like stealing car parts and copper wiring from apartment buildings. An older guy showed me how and then would sell the stuff and give me a buck or two. I think…I wasn’t thinking. I was fourteen and angry all the time. We needed money. It also seemed like a way to, I don’t know, hit back at a world that always seemed to hit me. Didn’t work. Learned something valuable, though. The world wins every time.”

“How long were you in jail?” Violet asks, her question somehow unobtrusive.