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the street, across the street.
    â€œExpecting company?” I said as we reached the bus shelter.
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œYou keep looking around. Like you’re expecting someone.”
    â€œI’m just looking for the bus.” He was lying. I knew it. I could tell by the way he avoided looking at me. “Here it comes.” He started out of the bus shelter. When I didn’t follow him immediately, he took me by the hand. While we waited for the bus to pull up in front of us, he said, “Hey, Robyn? I had a lousy week—work and school and everything. I just want us to have a good time today, okay?”
    I said okay. I wondered what he meant by
everything
.
    The bus lumbered to a stop. We climbed aboard, paid our fares, and headed to the back. Only after scanning every face in the bus did Nick sink into his seat. I snuggled against him, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Something he didn’t want to tell me about—yet. Maybe if the day went well, he would open up. I decided to give him time to unwind.
    â€œWhere are we going?” I said.
    â€œI thought maybe Chinatown.”
    â€œ
Chinatown?
” There were lots of things to do in and around the city—movies, museums, art galleries (which, to be honest, I would never have expected Nick to suggest), maybe a walk in the park. But Chinatown?
    â€œHave you been down there lately?” Nick said.
    â€œI was only a couple of blocks from there when I was robbed this morning.”
    â€œDoes that mean you don’t want to go back?”
    â€œNo,” I said. “I’m just a little surprised, that’s all. You’ve never mentioned Chinatown before.”
    He shrugged. “There are lots of cool stores down there. I thought maybe I could find something for Jack for Christmas.” Jack was Nick’s baby nephew. “And we could have lunch at a Chinese restaurant. Hey, you want to go to the Santa Claus parade tomorrow?”
    â€œThe Santa Claus parade?” I couldn’t picture Nick at a parade that attracted mainly little kids and their parents.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” Nick said. “You don’t need a little magic in your life?”
    â€œ
Christmas
magic, you mean?”
    â€œYeah. My mom used to take me to the parade every year. Then we’d go and stand in line at one of the malls so I could tell Santa what I wanted for Christmas. My mom always used to have my picture taken, you know, sitting on Santa’s knee. She had a whole collection of those pictures, from when I was a little boy till I was maybe eight or nine years old.”
    So he was feeling nostalgic. Nick’s mother had died a few years ago. Nick’s stepfather was responsible. His stepfather was also responsible for the scar on Nick’s face. He was in prison now. So was Nick’s stepbrother, Joey. The only other family Nick had was his aunt and his nephew Jack, whom he had never seen in person. Joey’s girlfriend had been pregnant when Joey went to prison. She moved out west to be with her family when she had the baby. All Nick had seen of Jack were a few pictures. And Christmas was on the way—the time of year when everybody thought about family. I squeezed Nick’s hand.
    â€œI haven’t been to the Santa parade in years,” I said. “Let’s do it. It’ll be fun.”
    We took the bus into the heart of the city. The Chinatown area is laid out like a big cross, running about ten city blocks east-west and eight city blocks north-south. Originally all of the restaurants and businesses had been Chinese. These days at least half of them are Vietnamese, but people still call the area as Chinatown.
    Traffic always moves more slowly through Chinatown on weekends. People from all over flock to the area to check out the shops, eat at the restaurants, and socialize with friends. As soon as we got to the fringes of Chinatown, Nick leaned over me