"Let's pick up Canada Boy on our way," he said. "You can say sorry and make things okay."

He saw her brighten.

"See, I'm not an idiot. Do you know where he lives?"

She nodded. "But let me drive."

"You don't always have to rescue me, Nok." It felt good, saying what he really thought.

"Okay, fine. You're not an idiot, Seng. That's not what I meant. But if something happens to you I will be alone."

"I'm going to look after you always, little sister."

Nok rolled her eyes and said, "Oi! You mean I'm going to look after you always." She playfully slapped him on his sweaty back. She climbed onto the back of the Honda Dream.

Seng liked the feel of his sister's strong body balanced on the seat behind him. Her confidence somehow gave him confidence. With her he was somebody. The sound of the motorbike starting drowned out the music of the dancers.

The night air felt good whipping across his face. It cooled him down. It was so hot underneath that tent. He decided to go a little faster. Nok tightened her grip behind him. He could feel the b.u.mps of the road vibrating his body. His love handles jiggled and it made him laugh out loud. If only he could have a motorbike like this. He'd have to sell a lot of plastic combs and buckets to be able to afford it. Someday. In America he'd have a big, loud Harley-Davidson.

He decided to turn onto a quiet side road just in case the traffic police were out tonight. They didn't care much about drunk drivers - everyone in Laos did it now and then - but Seng had noticed the new government banners strung across Lan Xang Boulevard. In bright red characters they bellowed out a new campaign to stop drunk driving. Must be some new policy the government had come up with to appear more modern. He had seen American ads on TV telling people not to drive after partying.

As he completed the turn onto the quiet, gravel road, he noticed a truck up ahead. It looked like it was coming right at them. It looked too big to be on a little road like this one. And why was it on the wrong side? He felt Nok tapping on his back. He turned to the side to try to hear what she was saying, but the wind took away her words.

When he looked back the truck was even closer. Seng could smell its diesel, but its lights were so bright he had to squint. Nok started hitting his back forcefully.

"What?" he yelled, turning slightly to try to see her in his peripheral vision, but as he did he saw her fall off the back of the motorbike. She slid off easily, like someone slipping into a pond for a swim. He couldn't see her face, just her long hair flailing around violently in the wind. Then she was gone.

There was a flash of light and he turned to see the truck upon him. He could see the terror in the driver's eyes. Seng swerved the bike sharply to the side and fell into a ditch. The truck screeched to a halt.

He could hear blood pumping in his brain. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. He jumped off his bike and raced toward his sister, expecting to see her dusting off her sin. He was an idiot. Such a big, stupid idiot. He saw a brilliant halo of blood circled around her head. Her eyes were open, looking off to the side, frozen in terror. He knelt down and placed his fingers in her warm blood spilling over the dirt road.

"Nok?" he shook her shoulders gently. Her body was limp.

"Nok!" he screamed. He placed his ear to her chest, wanting to hear the rhythm of her heart, or the waves of her breath. There was nothing. Her body was absolutely still. Suddenly the truck's horn began to blare continuously. Seng was hopeful that someone had arrived to help. He looked up and saw the driver slumped up against the wheel.

"No!" He held his hand up to his mouth. "No!" His entire body began to quake. He tasted salt in his mouth and turned into the bushes to heave. He looked around desperately for someone to help him. There was nothing on the silent street except for the pa.s.sed-out truck driver and some rice paddies. He went back to his little sister and gently closed her eyelids with his shaking finger. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, inhaling deeply, trying to commit her smell to memory.

Then he turned and ran as fast as he could into the bush, leaving her broken and alone on the ground, her quiet confidence split open on the street. He ran with all of his might. He would run until he found someone who could bring his sister back.

Wait.

Cam.

Each time the bus back to Vientiane careened over a pothole, pain radiated from my ribs throughout my entire body. I tried to brace myself each time it looked as if we were going to hit a b.u.mp, but the stiffening of my body only made the hurting worse. The wound on my chin was puffy and thin; red lines were snaking up from it toward my jaw. I wondered if it was infected.

Somchai sat on the hard, metal seat across from me looking out the window. He had only said a few sentences to me since two nights ago when I'd gotten high. When he smiled at the bus conductor or the three children crammed into the seat behind him it seemed forced. I leaned across the bus aisle toward him.

"Hey," I said. "What are you thinking about?"

"My sister."

"Will she be there when we get back?"

"No, she'll be back in Thailand by now. She has to work tomorrow."

"She doesn't get a holiday for Lao New Year? There's still one day of Pi Mai left, right?"

"This weekend was her holiday. It was my only chance to see her. She cleans rooms at a Thai hotel. Hotels don't boot all of their guests out for New Year."

"Somchai, I really am sorry," I said, swallowing the lump pressing on my throat.

"I know you are."

"d.a.m.n, I have a lot of making up to do. First Nok, now you. What is wrong with me?"

Somchai didn't say anything. He looked out the window. After a while he leaned across the aisle and said, "It's all about you, Cam."

"What do you mean?"

"You put yourself first all the time. It's all about how you feel and what you want."

His words stung. I didn't know what to say. I sat quietly, shocked and hurt.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" I finally asked, snappy and irritated.

"No. I'm not trying to make you feel better. You asked me what was wrong with you."

"In English that's usually meant as a rhetorical question."

"Rhetorical?"

"You're not meant to answer it."

"Why bother asking it in the first place, then? I'm just saying, you can never be happy that way."

I shifted in my seat. I didn't like what he was telling me.

"So why are you always so happy then, Mr. f.u.c.king Sunshine?"

"I'm not perfect," he said. "All I know is that I feel good when I think of something bigger than myself."

I met his eyes.

"I mean, it's good to know what you like and want in this world, but focusing on yourself all the time can drive you crazy. That's why all you Western people are depressed," he said.

"We're not all depressed."

He shrugged. "You're all about the individual. Here we put the family or community first."

"And that's working out real well for you, isn't it? You're going to flunk out of school because you have to make money for your family."

"I'm not saying it's faultless, I'm just saying -" He sat and thought for a second, "maybe there's a middle way between serving you all the time and serving others."

I sat quietly, unable to think of a defence.

He turned to tickle the kid in the seat behind him who had been pulling on his little neck hairs throughout our entire conversation.

I looked out the bus window.

"Are you going to go see Nok when we get back?" he asked, breaking the thick silence between us as we got closer to Vientiane.

"I don't know if this is a good time. I feel like c.r.a.p."

"Don't let any more time pa.s.s. There are lots of handsome guys in Vientiane. Like me."

I held in a laugh only because it would make my ribs hurt.

As the bus barrelled along jungle roads, scarcely missing emaciated village dogs crossing the street, and bands of children wheeling frayed bicycle tires along the roadside with sticks, I played over in my head how I would apologize to Nok. By the time the bus belched us out in Vientiane, I was groggy from the concussion, the winding roads, and thinking about what Somchai had said. Maybe I did think about myself too much. I wouldn't go to the ma.s.sage house right away. I'd go home, sleep off Vang Vieng, and go to apologize in the morning.

"Go now," Somchai urged, slapping me on the back. "Maybe she'll think crutches are s.e.xy."

"Why do you put up with me?" I asked.

"Because that's what friends do," he said.

"You Lao take your friendships seriously."

"Most important thing," he said. Then he turned his back and walked toward a colony of tuk-tuk drivers, milling about the dusty Vientiane bus station like a swarm of ants on the outskirts of a picnic blanket.

"Go see Nok. I'll catch you at home," he called over his shoulder.

"Hey, Somchai!" I called out. "Here's some money. For the doctor and stuff. I hope it's enough." I handed him a fat wad of dry kip I had kept tucked in my backpack. He nodded.

There's nothing like nerves to clear away a hangover. My heart hammered up in my temples. Would she change her mind about me?

Turns out I didn't have to worry about it just then. The door to the ma.s.sage house was locked. A torn piece of white paper with swirly Lao characters was taped to the window explaining why. I couldn't read it. I balanced on one crutch so I could knock on the door. No answer. Why would it be closed on a Sunday afternoon? Weekends were their busiest times. Nana would never miss out on the business. Something wasn't right.

A rusty pickup truck rounded the corner filled with a mob of teenagers, their buckets of water and ma.s.sive water guns barely visible through the spray. So that was it.

Closed for Lao New Year. My stomach sank. It was another day until the holiday ended.

d.a.m.n, I thought, resting my forehead against the ma.s.sage house door. I felt my shoulders tense up again. I wanted to see her now. I knew what to do to make things right again.

Help.

Seng.

Seng thought he would take a shortcut to the main road. He would flag down the first vehicle he saw and ask the driver to get a doctor. If only they were in America and he could call an ambulance. If only he owned a cellphone. This was all his fault. The Pi Mai moon wasn't helping him to see anything. There was so much darkness. Was he going the right way? He shook his head violently, trying to clear away the fog from his mind. None of this could really be happening. Nok was going to be okay. She probably just had a bad cut on the back of her head. She was going to be - he stopped short. He couldn't hear cars or motorbikes. This couldn't be the right way. He turned around. He couldn't see a thing. He suddenly noticed that his ankle was throbbing. He must have twisted it or something when he fell off the bike. His heart hammered inside his body and his mouth was dry. He was panting like a wild animal.

The smell of earth and bush was all around. He tried to block it out. The only smell he wanted was hers. He was afraid something else would replace it. He didn't want to forget. He plugged his nose with his fingers but then he couldn't run as quickly. If only he wasn't so fat, then he could run faster. This was wrong, all wrong. He wanted to start from the beginning. When all five of them were together - his entire family. How he had failed Meh now! He had killed her baby. Killed his sister! He was a wild animal. But no, he was wrong. He couldn't afford to think this way. Nok was going to survive. She was too strong not to. Besides, he couldn't live without her. If she was dead he would be as well.

Sweat poured down his forehead. He was so afraid. Where was he? He still couldn't hear the sounds of a road.

"Someone help me!" he screamed. "Help!"

All of a sudden he tripped over a thick tree root. He felt his body go down, his head slam against something hard. And then there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

There would never be anything again.

Not without her.

Halo.

Seng.

Seng woke with a start, disoriented and confused. He sat up and looked around. Dawn in the forest. Through the black silhouette of trees he could see the blue-gray of a lightening sky. His tongue was like sandpaper. His head throbbed. He felt the back of it and through his thick, damp hair he found a large goose egg. Birds noisily announced the beginning of a new day, a new year. With a flash of pain the memory came back.

"Nok!" he whispered and stood up too quickly. He stumbled, feeling dizzy and weak. He looked all around but could only see the trunks of trees. He turned and limped through the woods as quickly as he could.

When he came to the edge of the road where he had left her he saw the ma.s.sive truck. The driver was standing beside it with white gauze taped on his forehead. He held on to the truck's door handle as he talked to a man dressed in the beige uniform of the investigative police. The officer nodded, listening intently, and writing furiously in a notebook. Seng walked closer toward them. Hopefully, he scanned the scene for his sister, but she was gone. Only the stain of her halo remained on the dirt road. He was relieved to see the men and was about to step out of the roadside brush and call out to them when the driver slammed his hand violently onto the side of the truck. Seng froze in his place in the bushes.

"That son of a b.i.t.c.h! A girl is dead because of him. And now her death will be part of my karma. If I see him I will kill him myself. Such a beautiful, young girl. Dead! And he left her alone! He took off. He deserves to die, that driver. He deserves to die." The driver slammed his hand against the truck again.

"He very well might," said the officer said in a way that was almost hopeful.

The truck driver stopped his outburst and looked up. "What do you mean?"

"The government is looking to make an example of someone. No one takes the drunk driving laws seriously. If this guy is charged with manslaughter everyone will take notice. Especially if he gets the death penalty for it."

"The death penalty? For driving drunk?"