Chapter 24: Maybe she was supposed to bow. (mild language)

Oregon, September, 1998

Shaw walked through the crowded halls, alone. Ahead, she could see the trap forming. The big girl, Billy, was standing in the middle of the hallway, towering over the others nearby. And there were two of her lackeys off on the right, ready to shove Shaw into the back of the beast, Billy. Shaw had seen this ploy before, and the drama that followed after. She had no interest in participating.

She pushed her way to the left, then, through the crowd of students coming her way. They chirped and complained as she bumped through, but she navigated upstream until she was just in front of Billy. A large, hairy arm reached out and grabbed her by the sweater, yanking her through the crowd.

Billy leaned forward, her face near enough to Shaw that she could see the scars and pock-marks on her skin and the dark mustache on her upper lip. Shaw felt the crowd evaporate around her, forming a circle in the hall with the two of them in the center. She tried to back up, but Billy still had her sweater bunched in her fist.

"You little shit, where do you think you're goin' ?"

Shaw said nothing, and Billy straightened, pulling Shaw toward her.

"Freak. You're a freak-show, you little shit !" When Shaw remained silent, Billy was pressed to do something more – everyone was watching.

First, she grabbed Shaw's cap, dangling it over the top of her head. Shaw didn't bite. This was a game she couldn't win. Incensed then, Billy hauled off and punched her in the face, the blow just a glancing one, as Shaw pulled away at the last second.

She bent double suddenly then, and backed out of her sweater, leaving Billy with a handful of black. Shaw swung away, back down the hallway, pushing the crowd aside. She hurried along to the end, down the stairs and out through the stairwell doors, sounding the alarm as she pushed through the emergency exit. All through the building she could hear the klaxon sound echoing. She jogged to the path that led around to the back lot, then past the garage and up the hill to the woods. Inside, she stopped and turned back to see. The alarm was blaring, and students were filing from the doors, gathering in groups a little ways from the building. Shaw watched for a bit longer, and then turned back into the woods, heading for town. She skirted the road so she wouldn't be seen, and then at the edge of town, she turned into the back street that ran behind the shops on Main Street. About a half mile down, the street turned 90 degrees to the left – running behind the shops on a side street off Main. She stopped to get her bearings for a moment, looking at the signs in the backs of the shops. This was a part of town she didn't know.

Shaw stepped in closer, looking in the back windows as she moved along the street. At one, she could see customers seated at a counter, and a few at tables, sipping coffee and eating breakfast. The sounds of dishes clattering and smells of bacon cooking made her linger a little longer at the back window. Her stomach growled and she could see herself eating eggs and bacon, but not if it meant walking into the shop and ordering food. She backed away and walked a few steps, then back the other way, then back again, then back the other way, arguing with herself. When she turned again, there was a man standing there, at the back of his shop, watching her. He pointed to her face, and then, when she didn't say anything, he gestured for her to come with him. Shaw didn't hesitate for a moment. She followed him into the back of his shop. He gestured to a small door there in the back of his shop, and when she looked, it was a tiny bathroom.

In the mirror above the sink, she could see the damage from the punch the big girl had landed. Her nose was swollen, and there was a cut under her left eye. The eye had started to turn bluish, and there was blood on her face. She leaned down and let the water run over her hands. It was cold and she shivered a bit. She'd left her sweater behind, and now she was wearing only a thin black cami, in fifty-degree weather. She washed her face with the cold water, scrubbing a bit to loosen the dried blood. It didn't come off very well with the cold water, but it was better than nothing. She grabbed a few of the paper napkins folded on the shelf above the sink, and instead of wiping her hands with them, she folded them into a thick pad. Then she soaked them under the faucet, and squeezed a bit of the water out. She laid the pad across her eye and the swollen part of her nose, and backed out of the bathroom.

The man was standing there with a shirt, a smaller version of the one he wore. It was black, with wide full sleeves. On the bottom of each black sleeve was a cuff, tan, that rolled backwards from the end of each sleeve. In the front, the shirt closed with little tan cloth knobs that fit into tan cloth loops on the other side. And at the top, the collar stood up all the way around the neck. He offered it to her, and she took it, sliding it on over her black camisole. It was voluminous on her, but she rolled the sleeves back even more, until her wrists showed out from the bottom of the sleeves. The body of the shirt was loose, but she didn't mind it. And she noticed that it was double sided, black on the outside and tan on the inside. Reversible, so there was no itchy tag on the collar.

She looked at him after she'd pulled on the jacket, and he nodded his approval. Then he pointed to her wet napkin, reminding her to put it back on her face. He gestured to her to follow him and pointed at a stool next to a small table. Shaw straddled the stool there, watching him work with her good eye. There was a small china pot on a counter, and he poured two small cups of steaming liquid from the pot. It smelled like tea, and he put one down in front of her and gestured for her to drink. It was very hot, but good once it had cooled enough to drink. She watched him drink his, too, and he nodded when she drank hers.

All the minutia visible in the shop attracted her attention. She'd never been here before. It was a little out of the way at the end of the side street off Main. Most people only came this far if they had a reason. Most people shopped on Main and didn't pass this way.

There were interesting smells, like herbs, all kinds of herbs in his shop. She didn't recognize most of them. And there were long narrow banners hanging down from the ceiling, separating the space at the front from this area back here, which looked like the part where this man spent most of his time. It was neatly organized, but small, everything in easy reach. She could just see the space at the front of the store, much larger than this area, but completely open. She could see a wood floor and off to the sides, one wall was all mirrors, floor to ceiling. On the other wall she could see some pictures, and a collection of some kind of long sticks, metal swords, different kinds of strange-looking weapons. She wondered if they were real.

Shaw tipped forward off her stool and walked toward the front to take a look. Just as she got to the wood floor she heard a yell from the man, and she stopped. He walked forward to where she was standing. Then he pointed to her boots and shook his finger back and forth. She wasn't to walk on the wood floor with her boots. It looked very clean to her. Maybe he didn't want dirt to get on the clean floor. That made sense. She nodded back at him and then pointed to the sticks and swords on the wall. He made some gestures as though holding the different types of weapons, showing her how they were used. She copied his movements, and he made little corrections to her attempts. He stood there with his arms folded and watched her go through the movements. At the end, he invited her back to the little table in the back.

From a round yellow container that looked like it was made from some kind of fiber, the man fished out some kind of noodle pie with chopsticks and placed it in a small bowl of broth with some scallions floating in it. He handed it to Shaw, and she looked around for something to eat with. The man reached around behind him and found another pair of chopsticks for her to use. She watched him do it, and then tried to hold them like he did. The noodle was slippery, and every time she got it close to her mouth, it would slip from her grip with the sticks and splash down into the broth. He watched her, patiently, showing her the correct method, and then she was finally able to take a bite. There was some kind of meat inside the noodle wrapper, and she ate, hungrily. She hadn't realized how hungry she was. When the noodle was gone, she tipped the bowl and drank the broth. It tasted like soy and ginger, with a little hint of scallion. The man noticed she'd finished, and he pointed to the round container with his chopstick, indicating she could have more if she wanted. Shaw stood up and offered her bowl for a refill. He gave her two this time, and a little scoop of broth from another pot. The two ate in silence, and when she'd finished the last of her broth, she was done. These dumplings were very filling. The man poured more tea and offered some to Shaw. They sipped tea together in silence.

She looked at his face when he wasn't aware. Asian. With black hair, graying at the sides. Smooth skin, with hardly any whiskers anywhere. He didn't seem to speak English, but she didn't have trouble understanding him. And he seemed to have the same expression on his face most of the time. Whatever he might be thinking, it didn't show on his face.

He was busy peeling a small mandarin orange, and Shaw could smell the pungent citrus as the peel released it into the air. He offered her a few of the segments, and she tried one. It was soothing after the heavy noodle dumpling. While they were eating the mandarin, someone rang the bell at the back and the man stood up, as a young Asian man entered, bowing several times. He caught sight of Shaw and smiled.

"Hi," he said. The older man spoke in a slow, soft voice, explaining the situation. The younger man kept looking back at Shaw as the older man went through the events. Shaw didn't understand the words, but she could tell they were talking about her. At one point the younger one moved closer to her, squatting in front and looking at her eye, and the swollen nose. The two men exchanged some more talk, as though the older one was giving the younger one some instructions. Then the younger one noticed the shirt she was wearing and he smiled.

"Our newest member, eh?" Shaw said nothing, and he turned back to the older man, translating into their language. The older man shook his head, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand. The younger one looked a little disappointed, but deferred to the elder.

"Master Lo has offered to help with these wounds," he said, indicating her face. She thought about it and was curious what he might do.

"Sure," she said to the younger man, who turned and informed the elder. He instructed the younger man to go to a specific spot in his shop, where there was a bank of small drawers. The young man returned with a tin, about the diameter of a quarter. Master Lo read the characters on the top and confirmed that this was the correct one. He twisted the top back and forth until it slid off the base, and looked inside. Then he gestured for Shaw to come to him. He tipped the tin so she could see inside. It was some kind of ointment, glossy, dark green or black. She could smell an herbal smell, nothing like a familiar one that she could name. He dipped his finger into the tin and rubbed it on the surface of the ointment. Then he reached over and made small swiping motions over the top of the injured parts and under her eye. He watched her reaction. She didn't wince or pull away.

When he was done, he reached for one of her hands and raised it up, palm-up. He dropped the tin into her palm, and pressed the cover closed on top, then folded her hand over the tin - speaking softly to her over the outstretched hand. The younger man translated for her:

"This is ancient formula, passed to me from my teacher. Special medicine. Put on same way, six times every day."

Shaw looked at his face. It was hard for her to do, but she wanted to see his eyes. He seemed to be waiting for something. The bowing. Maybe she was supposed to bow. The younger man seemed to bow all the time. She did a quick bow with her head and looked back up at his eyes to see if she'd done the right thing. His expression never changed – but he nodded to her and released her hand.