Time Drifters
Chapter Thirty-Four: Second Generation

My stomach dropped when I saw Yuka’s dress shining like a silky ghost as the couple passed under a street lamp and onto Campus Road. A taxicab stopped in front of them and Sam opened the back door.

“No!” I screamed. But they were too far away to hear me.

Yuka got inside.

“Sam! Wait!” I yelled, desperately wishing my legs were longer as I ran.

He looked up, perturbed and then his head ducked inside.

“Wait!” I yelled again. This time I could see the driver and Yuka both turning to look at me. There was no other traffic and I ran out in front of the parked taxi.

“Are you leaving?” I asked. Sam stood again and as I rounded the taxi I saw his feet were still on the pavement.

“Yes,” he said. He closed the door and leaned down to wave to Yuka, patting the side of the car twice. The big yellow cab pulled away, leaving Sam and me. I found myself waving as well, until Sam gave me an odd look.

“She wasn’t having a good time?” I said, hating myself for sounding so dumb.

“No,” he said as he started walking.

“Are you coming back? To the dance?”

“No.”

“Where are you going?”

“Home,” he said, looking straight at me.

“Where’s home?” I asked, remembering the signup sheet in my pocket. “Can you walk there?”

“Home is home,” he said, giving me another questioning look. “I take the bus.”

“You don’t live in a dorm?” I asked.

“Graduate students live in dorms.”

“You don’t drink liquor? Much?” I asked. This made him sort of snort in amusement.

“Pardon me?” Sam asked, incredulous.

“You’re not even in high school, you’re in college,” I said. “And you don’t drink?”

“You’re funny,” he said, chuckling. “Funny strange and funny ha-ha.”

“Yes, I’m strange and I can be funny ha-ha,” I said, seeing an improvement in his attitude. “Would you please go back to the dance? Please?”

I couldn’t tell if he stopped because of what I said, or whether it was because we’d made it to the curb of the main boulevard. University Avenue ran straight back towards the city and I could see there was a bus stop on the far side.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because my sitter…” I stumbled, deciding to change the story, “My sister, she doesn’t have anybody to dance with.”

“There are lots of people,” he countered.

“People with dates,” I said. “But she had to bring us. And she’s just transferred here. She doesn’t know anyone. And she’s very sad.”

“I don’t think I can make her feel happy,” he said, starting across the street.

“But you could… you can,” I urged him, walking ahead of him, trying to stop his progress.

“I already left,” he said, reaching the other side. “Now go back while I’m here to watch you cross the street.”

“The dance goes till midnight,” I said.

“And I’ll be asleep by midnight,” Sam said.

“But tomorrow’s Sunday,” I said. “You can sleep in.”

“Or go for a run.”

“Why would you run on a Sunday?” I asked, raising my voice, as though the idea was ludicrous.

“I’m in ROTC, a cadet,” he said crisply. “You will be too, as soon as you get to high school.”

That surprised me and for a second I was reeling from the idea that something might have happened to Tarrytown High while I was away.

“So you’re going to be an officer?” I asked.

“Perhaps,” Sam said, looking off across the street.

There was a bus, chugging uphill. I didn’t know how far it went before it turned to make the return descent.

“And, for officers, they teach you about honor, right?” I asked. He gave a half shrug and nodded. “Honor is like a code. A way you act, no matter what you do. Right?”

Sam made a noise in his throat, kind of like a bullfrog, at the same time as giving a quick nod.

“So I’m asking you to please live up to your code and do the honorable thing,” I said, pointing back across the street. “I’m asking you to please come back with me and dance with my sister.”

Sam chortled and raised his hand up to his nose, covering his mouth.

“I don’t see that a dance is going to make a difference,” he said, sighing heavily.

“But it is,” I insisted. “You have no idea. My sister doesn’t think that anybody will dance with her, and it’s making her feel all balled up inside. I can tell. Here, she’s just an outsider. Do you know what that’s like?”

Sam straightened up as though he were offended. His face went sour and he pursed his lips.

“Nisei,” he said, nodding agreement. “Second generation. Born American to Japanese parents. I do know.”

“So… you know what’s it’s like,” I said. “And you can change that for someone.”

I could tell he was still on the fence.

“It’s good to obey orders and do what you’re told,” I said. “But honor doesn’t end with that. I think you can also be honorable if you make a difference with little things. There’s so much we can’t do. There’s so much we can’t change. I want to. Sometimes the world sucks. But then someone tells us how we can make something better. And even if we don’t believe it, even if it seems ridiculous and far-fetched and stupid to us at first, it’s amazing what can happen… when we try. I’m just figuring it out. And I hope I’m not too late.”

I could tell that I was about to cry. I felt so helpless. So lost. I thought I was saying this to Sam, but I was thinking about Mr. Danby and how I’d told him that everything we did seemed pointless. And I’d just realized it wasn’t. How else could a dance be important? I knew it was. Nothing about my own life seemed to matter to me as much as what I was doing right now in this instant.

But I’d heard the bus. I’d seen the lights coming downhill towards us. I didn’t know how else to stop Sam from leaving. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to jump in front of the bus. I might have to tell him that I was a time-traveler and that, for some unknown reason, he had to be saved.

His fingers rested on my shoulder just as the bus was slowing. I thought it might have been his final goodbye. The bus lurched to a stop and the door opened.

“Let’s go and find your sister,” Sam said, waving to the driver as he guided me back towards the intersection.

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