Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 - 2017 | Page 36

Last Dance
Canadian International School of Hong Kong, Persinger, Campbell – 13
“M
ay I have this dance, Chen Manli?” he asks.
He is a Chinese soldier and a regular customer of mine. I look him up and down. He wears a
dark green uniform as usual. He glances down at his pocket and pulls out a red wallet.
“You get 90 seconds.”
I take his hand and dance all over the floor of the Paramount Hotel ballroom. He drops some gold coins into my
hand and walks away. Squeezing the coins, I put them in a small coin purse my father gave me years ago. As I look
around the room, I see another man is walking towards me. He has an army hat on so I guess he is a soldier but as I
take a closer look, I see the lighter brown uniform. A Japanese soldier!
“Dance with me!” he says as he grabs my hand.
I pull away as fast as I can.
“No!” I exclaim in a stern voice. “ I would never dance with a filthy dog!”
“You will regret this, kono baka!”
He storms away.
As I let out a huge sigh, I walk to a conversation with my friends. When I started being a taxi dancer, I never knew
how many friends I would make and people I would meet. When my father grew ill, I knew I had to do something
to support us. So I became a taxi dancer. I am not proud of it but it is what I have to do. The girls and I talk for a
few minutes more until I see the eyes of one of the other dancers widen. I feel my hand being grabbed. My arm
jerks and I spin backward.