TAKEN FOR A RIDE [104 a 106]

Pag. 104

TAKEN FOR A RIDE

Of course, we didn’t always have to steal leftovers to fill our stomachs. Sometimes our performances ended early, giving us the chance to wander through the park, spending our bus money on the wide array of goodies available. Of course, this meant that we would have to walk six miles back to the academy—but for the treat of a sweet bean bun or sugar rice cake, it was worth it.

One day, one of our more friendly instructors, a hearty middle-aged man who taught us martial arts, told us a secret: his son worked as a driver at the bus company. If we ever found ourselves in need of a ride, we could say that our father was “Tsui Luk, employee number 1033,” and the ticket vendor would let us on the bus for free as a family member.

We looked at one another in glee. All the snacks we wanted, and we’d never have to walk again!

The following afternoon we gorged, confident that we would ride home in luxury, courtesy of the bus company.

“You sure this is going to work, Biggest Brother?” I asked, a little dubious.

“Of course, dumbass,” he said. “Teacher wouldn’t screw us over. You just make sure you remember what to say.” And when the bus arrived, Yuen Lung stepped smartly into the stairwell, nodded his close-cropped head at the ticket taker, and told him that his father was Tsui Luk, employee number 1033.

The vendor looked up and down at Biggest Brother, appraising him. Finally he nodded back and sent him into the interior of the bus.

It worked. Our hearts leapt in our chests. Free fares, anywhere we wanted, anytime we chose!

Then it was Yuen Tai’s turn. “My father is Tsui Luk, employee number 103.” He, too, was allowed in.

But the ticket taker was beginning to get suspicious. By the time Yuen Biao, last in line, stammered his “father’s” name and number and boarded, it was clear that something was wrong. No driver as young as Tsui Luk could have so many kids, all boy, and all with their heads shaved clean!

Cursing his own gullibility, the ticket taker stomped toward the back

Pag. 105

of the bus, shouting for us, the bald-headed kids, to come down and pay our fares. Of course, we’d long since eaten our fares, not to mention any other spare pocket change we happened to be carrying.

“Hey, you can’t do that! We’ll tell our father on you!” shouted Yuen Lung in desperation.

“Driver!” the ticket taker barked. “There are illegal riders on this bus! Take us to the police station!”

Yuen Biao began to whimper. The police station! Though none of us were afraid of cops, we didn’t dare to imagine what Master would do when he found out we were in police custody. Jail— even execution—would probably be merciful by comparison.

“Let us off the bus,” pleaded Biggest Brother. “We were just playing around.”

By then, the ticker taker was too incensed to listen, and told he driver to go faster. I looked at Yuen Kwai and he nodded back. Charging toward the front of the bus, we pushed the ticket over, and then ran up the stairs to the second level of the double-decker bus, followed close behind by the other five Fortunes.

“Why the hell did we come up here?” shouted Yuen Lung. “We’re trapped!”

Yuen Tai pulled open a window.

“Are you crazy?” shouted Yuen Wah. “We’ll all be killed!”

“One way or another,” said Yuen Tai, as the enraged ticket taker burst out of the stairwell. He stuck his legs out of the windows, holding on to the metal frame, and then let go, falling eight feet into the roadside shrubbery. “Outta the way,” shouted Yuen Lung, who followed his junior, grunting as he passed his heavy body through the narrow opening. Yuen Wu and Yuen Kwai followed in quick succession, and then, whispering a quick prayer to himself, Yuen Wah.

While I held back the ticket taker, who was screaming obscenities and nearly foaming at the mouth, Yuen Biao froze by the window, staring terrified at the scenery rushing past.

“Go!” I shouted.

“I’m scared!” screamed Yuen Biao.

I gave the ticket taker a shove that nearly sent him falling back down the stairs, picked up Yuen Biao and threw him out the window, then leaped after him, headfirst.

Forget everything I’ve done since then; that first “stunt” was the most terrifying I’ve ever done. The bushes we’d been passing just moments before had dwindled into scrub, and I saw the ground rushing at me at a painful speed. I had time for just one thought before I hit the ground: Why did I jump out the window headfirst?

The only thing that saved me and Yuen Biao from broken necks was

Pag. 106

the rigorousness of Master’s training. We’d done somersaults and acrobatic rolls so many times that we could—and, in the case of Yuen Wah, did—do them in our sleep. Out of sheer reflex, we tucked our bodies properly and cushioned our falls to the hard, unyielding ground.

We could still hear the ticket taker’s screams as the bus disappeared into the distance. We’d gotten off lucky; besides a couple of scrapes and minor bruises, less than we’d in an ordinary day of practice, none of us were hurt.

But we were nowhere near a bus station and didn’t have money for fares even if we had been. And, since the police station was in the opposite direction of the school, the walk we faced had expanded from six miles to seven.

“Whose stupid idea was this? yelled Yuen Lung, stomping down the road in the general direction of the school. The rest of us just marched on after him, wisely keeping silent.