LITMIR.BIZ

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the villages – food and dancing – that continued late into the night. Before he went to bed Adam would put on his magic lantern and stare at the swirling scenes that he knew so well, and he would listen to the far-off sounds of laughter and smell the faint sweetness of grilled meat and charcoal smoke that carried on the sea breeze.

      No, Adam thought: he was not just like the other boys.

      Slow down, Johan, slow down.

      They drove through the silent city at speed, neon lights staining the night with electric temptations. PUSSY CAT $$$ SHANGHAI DREAM COPACABANA FANTASY GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS.

      Please, Johan, slow down, Farah said. You’ll kill yourself one day if you keep driving like this.

      At darkened intersections he ran the lights without even looking. He never looked out for other cars, he never looked out for anything. Don’t worry, he said, it’s OK it’s late, there are no cars. He drove with his head held back as if blown by the wind, but there was never any wind in this city.

      Shit, Bob said in the back seat, this is great. He cowered as they careered round the roundabout, the new tyres of the Mercedes squeaking. Farah gripped the door tightly and said again, Please, Johan, for god’s sake, but she knew that there was no use talking to him when he was in one of these moods.

      Hey, Johan, hey, guys, Bob said. Let’s go down to the river and see what’s happening with the girls. Friday night, all the Mak Nyahs will be out. Come on, let’s go.

      No, Farah said. I don’t want to go. Johan, please.

      Come on, Sis, be a sport. Let’s have some fun. What do you say, Johan? Everyone knows that those Pondans have the best tits in town. I want to see their little dresses with their asses sticking out oh, yes, sir.

      Johan smiled and shrugged. OK, why not.

      They slowed to a crawl as they left the lights of the broad tarred road and turned into a narrow lane, then into another alley, then a long thin road that ran along the shallow muddy river that hardly seemed a river at all, just a trail of sludge between two huge mudbanks.

      Kill the lights, Johan, kill the lights quick.

      The Merc crept along silently, hardly a rumble from its engine. Shadows stirred in the deep shadows under the old rain trees. There were a few cars parked along the road but it was difficult to tell if anyone was in them.

      Get an eyeful of that baby, Bob said, sticking his head out of the window. The girls emerged from the darkness, singly or in pairs, linking their arms as they sashayed towards the car. There were all kinds of girls – Chinese girls, Malay girls, Indian girls and especially girls who were boys – but in the eternal nocturne of this street they were just girls.

      Which ones are real, which are fake? Farah said. I can never tell.

      Aduh, you’re really stupid, aren’t you? Bob giggled. What do you mean?

      I mean, which ones are really girls? Don’t tell me you know which ones are, you know-

      Transvestites? Johan said.

      Yes, boys pretending to be girls.

      Is it important? Johan laughed. He had a cold, hard laugh tonight. Farah did not like it when he got this way. Why do you need to know? Don’t tell me you want some action?

      You’re disgusting.

      Johan said, They aren’t boys pretending to be girls, they’re boys who are girls. Some of them aren’t even boys any more, they’re real girls…just like you.

      Ceh. Farah shook her head. Don’t say that, they’re not like me.

      Wow-ee, Bob cried. Hey girl, show us your tetek.

      The prettiest ones are further up, Johan said, by that Austin under the big tree.

      They stopped the car. There were about a dozen girls on the street. They felt safe now, they knew this car was not a police car. A couple of them walked in front of the Merc, swinging their hips and flicking their long glossy hair. Their calf muscles were taut and sinewy in their high heels and they swung small beaded handbags over their shoulders. Hey, boys, they cried, love your big car. Come here, boys, come and see what Mummy has for you.

      Come on, Johan said and stepped out of the car.

      Shit no way – Sis, stop him! That boy is crazy!

      Johan come back, come back, Farah pleaded, it’s dangerous. But he was already some distance away, walking like he always did in his bright springy way with his hands in his pocket.

      Johan, Farahs voice was an urgent whisper. Her footsteps in the dark: she was running. He did not look back. Ahead of him he knew there was a crumbling brick wall, just the right height to hide a couple crouching down behind it. And by this wall there would be a girl, always the same girl.

      Hello, this girl said. Hello handsome. She was not tall and not short, the same height as Johan. She had slim shoulders and sturdy hips and she never concealed her face under a thick layer of powder, not like the other girls. I haven’t seen you in a while, she said, lighting a Winston. Where you been?

      I’ve been around.

      Is that your new girl?

      No, that’s my sis.

      Pretty.

      Actually, she’s my adopted sister. Farah, Regina, Regina, Farah.

      Hello.

      Hello, princess. Regina took a long drag of her cigarette. It glowed like a jewel for a second or two before fading again. Listen, children, nice to see you, but I have stuff to do. You know. The cops have been down here already tonight touching the girls up and taking our money, so…

      Yeah sure, see you around.

      Who’s that? Farah whispered. Oh my god, Johan. Please don’t tell me you’ve been seeing prostitutes.

      In the dark he made a slight movement with his shoulders, like a shrug but not quite. As they went past the Austin a girl got out of it, smoothing her hair away from her face. The bangles she wore on her wrist filled the air with a lovely metallic symphony, but the car suddenly started up and its lights filled the road with a sharp glare and suddenly there were people running for cover, dashing across the pool of light that swept along the lane before leaving it in darkness once more.

      Shit, a baritone voice called out, I thought it was the cops again, now my hair’s all ruined.

      Hair? Call that topi keledar hair? Darling, it’s a crash helmet, just take it off next time.

      Where did you guys go? said Bob. Let’s get out of here. He was quieter now, sitting with his arms folded and his hands tucked tightly into his armpits as if it were cold. I want to go home. I’m tired.

      No, Johan said. Not yet. The Merc emerged from the alley and burst into life once more.

      Some time afterwards, when they were still driving, they reached that moment in the night when there were no more lights on the streets and the air that came in through the windows no longer felt hot and sticky, Johan said:

      Do you ever get this feeling, Farah?

      What feeling?

      That your life is not your own. That you can’t control it.

      No, what do you mean?

      I mean, do you ever feel that your real life is somewhere else, that someone has stolen it and taken it to another place far away from here?

      Farah looked at him and shook her head. No, Johan, Mummy says we’re not allowed to talk about that. Let’s go home.

      No, said Johan. Anywhere but home.

      In this fast young city he did not want to sleep, he did not want to stop. This was a place that had no past, only the present. What happened yesterday was just a dream; last week was forgotten, last month never existed at all. Every night was the same. Your

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