The rain stopped while we were eating, and the skies cleared to a soft blue by the time we left the restaurant, stomachs filled to bursting. Parts of Chinatown are blocked off for the festival, and we take a detour around the area to the parkade. Even though the streets are damp, there is a considerable crowd in the neighborhood. Families with kids holding balloons of cartoon characters walk by. Other passersby wave colorful fans printed with rainbow flowers. The atmosphere is festive, happy. There’s the sound of music in the distance, someone singing Chinese opera, accompanied by the trills of a flute.

Tina and Denny walk hand in hand in front of us, eager to see everything the festival has to offer. My parents walk behind me, talking about something related to Baba’s work. The entirety of the street in front of Pacific Dragon Mall is blocked off. There are tents set up on the sidewalk, staffed by people eager to give out free stuff: tote bags, pens, bookmarks. Baba collects everything eagerly, because he loves anything that is free.

There are stalls set up in the middle of the street as well. One is a bookstore, with children’s books stacked on top of folding tables and a few rotating shelves. Another is a tent that sells art supplies, beside another tent that houses an assortment of art. I slow down when I notice the banner: ART CONTEST WINNERS! This must be the exhibit Ellie’s mom and Mrs. Wei were talking about.

I find the Under Ten category, with the theme What Home Means to Me. Sponsored by the Association of Chinatown Merchants and Scotiabank. I find Ellie’s name on one of the paintings and smile to myself. Two figures, her mom and herself in a polka-dot dress and braids, a black cat in her arms.

“It’s Andy!” Denny gestures for Ma to come see. Ma snorts beside me but makes her way toward him, feigning excitement. Andy’s drawing is of him playing violin, while his family claps beside him.

“We have to get to the stage, the lion dance is starting!” Tina is almost skipping with anticipation, which is rare to see during these family outings. I notice Ma and Baba exchange a different sort of glance, their initial surprise turning into approval. She practically drags us to the stage set up at the end of the street on a platform. The platform is flanked by tall metal structures, holding up the backdrop: a photograph of the corner of a curved temple roof with colorful carvings of green dragons with golden horns, against a too-bright blue sky.

There’s text emblazoned across the top of the backdrop: WISHING YOU GREAT HAPPINESS AND GOOD FORTUNE FOR MID-AUTUMN!

An Asian man in a suit steps up to the microphone, waving at everyone for their attention.

“Today’s lion dance is sponsored by the Formosa Friendship Association! Let’s welcome the Soulful Heart Dance Academy in their performance.” He claps, and the crowd joins in.

A woman begins playing the harp to the right of the stage, the delicate plucking of the strings sending out a sweet tune that rises over the head of the audience. Five figures appear on the stage, dressed in hanfu in shades of soft blue and lavender with long, flowing sleeves. Their makeup glitters in the sunlight, butterfly wings blooming across their faces in vivid pinks and purples. They leap and spin, bodies forming graceful shapes, until they snap their wrists and the crowd gasps at the sight. Fans unfurl from their hands, fluttering in the air, like graceful birds flying to and fro across the stage. The music picks up in tempo then, the harp joined by the hollow sound of someone hitting a hand drum. The audience claps along with the beat, entranced by the performance. Too soon, it’s over, and they leave the stage to thunderous applause.

But then there’s the clash of cymbals as figures in yellow run up the stairs, holding two giant lion heads. The cheers around us grow louder. Next to me, Denny jumps up and down, thrilled at the spectacle. My excitement dies in my throat as a face suddenly pops into my mind. A man, who meets my eyes through the chain-linked fence, then looks away. That exact shade of yellow appears again in the distance when I’m dragged back into the alley.

Someone was watching me other than the boy in the red hoodie who rescued me. The memory conjured up by the sudden appearance of these men in their golden-yellow outfits, red hems at the neck and the wrists, red headbands around their brows.

Other figures in yellow appear from behind the stage, rolling large red drums before them. With a yell, they pull out sticks and cross them overhead, and then the drumming starts. The dancers on the stage stomp their feet to the rhythm. The crowd screams their enthusiasm and pushes forward toward the stage as both the lion heads are lifted. I’m jostled by the sudden press of bodies, and I try to stand my ground in the wave.

The lions jump and sway, their too-large eyes with long lashes blinking, their rippling bodies in festive red and shiny silver thread. The lions fight, trying to be the first to snatch the red cabbage dangling above their heads from a pole. The jerky movements, the frenzy of drumming, the roar of the crowd…all of it makes my head dizzy.

I grab for Ma’s arm to steady myself, but the arm is snatched out of my grasp. A strange woman looks down at me with disgust, annoyed. I open my mouth to apologize, but she’s already swallowed up by the crowd. I look around, and there’s nobody I recognize anywhere. I’ve somehow been pushed to the left of the stage. One of the lions casts a shadow across me, and it lunges in my direction, threatening to catch me between its massive jaws. I flinch downward, even as everyone around me laughs.

I turn away from the stage to try and find my family, but it’s impossible to move in this crowd.

“Little girl…” a man whispers to my right. He flashes a mouth full of broken teeth, stained by tobacco. “Are you lost?” He spits on the ground, a red blob of something disgusting. He grabs for me, and I duck out of his reach, but then someone else pinches my shoulder. I back away, and I’m pushed again, thrust from one person to the next. Laughter surrounds me. Hands coming out of nowhere, belonging to no one. Flashes of yellow. Here, and there, then everywhere, whirling all around me. The drumbeats grow wilder, as fast as my racing heart.

A hand finally finds its target. Grips my arm hard enough to bruise.

“I remember you….” He leers.

It’s him. The man from the alley. The one who watched as I tried to crawl away from the ghoul. He’s so close that I can see the large mole on his chin. He bends down over me, and I’m not sure what he’s about to do.

“Leave her alone!” A slightly disheveled young guy with a backpack steps forward with a rolled-up newspaper, hitting the man who grabbed my arm.

The man with the mole releases me, surprised at this sudden onslaught. Newspaper guy thrusts his whole body between us. I shrink away from both of them, knowing that I should cry out for help, but I’m too afraid.

“I…” The man backs away, holding his hands up. “I’ll…I’ll see you again.” He wiggles his fingers at me as he walks backward into the crowd. What does he mean he’ll see me again? A chill cuts into me, a sense of dread the bright midafternoon sun cannot chase away.

“Yeah! Get the fuck outta here!” newspaper guy yells at him, then he turns back and looks at me with concern. “Are you—”

“Ruby!” Baba appears beside me suddenly. “Who is this person? Is he bothering you?” He turns to confront the man who helped me, no longer my usual mild-mannered father.

“What do you want?” he yells. “Get away from her!” Ma is there too, taking hold of my jacket and forcing me to step back.

“Wait!” I try to speak up, to tell them the young man with the backpack actually saved me from the man in yellow who was harassing me, but I’m pulled away.

“How many times do I have to tell you? Don’t talk to people like that. He’s probably a drunk or a drug addict,” Ma declares loudly, drawing the attention of others around us. The young man receives a few dirty looks.

A terrible feeling washes over me. I shrink down and wish that I could disappear. I’m not brave enough to give him an apology, or even a second glance.

“I keep telling you girls that Chinatown is dangerous. It’s crawling all over the place with those people,” Ma lectures, one hand on Denny. Tina looks at us curiously, wanting to know what trouble I’ve gotten into now.

“He was trying to help me,” I finally say, but my mother doesn’t hear me. She’s complaining to Baba about the terrible state of Chinatown, and how the city needs to clean up this mess.

I’m ready to go home after that encounter, but on the way to our car, someone calls out Baba’s name from one of the booths. Enthusiastic introductions are made, and then a mention of the architecture firm that he works at, which means that this conversation will probably go on for a while. One of the volunteers at the booth asks Denny if he wants to make a fan, and I follow, half expecting Tina to be there too. Except she stays right beside Ma. I keep one eye on Denny while eavesdropping on the conversation with the adults, wondering why she’s so interested.

But with Denny demanding that I help him fold his fan, I’m not able to catch too much of what they’re talking about. Until Ma gestures for us to join them.

“This is my eldest daughter, Ruby, and my son, Denny.” Baba is the one who introduces us, placing his hands on our shoulders. “Say hello to Mr. Lee.”

“Ruby is our piano player,” Ma says, a little too eagerly, sharing in a way that shows these are people she wants to impress.

The man in the suit extends his hand for me to shake first, and I realize he was the one who introduced the lion dancers. He’s a distinguished-looking man, with salt-and-pepper hair, laugh lines in the corners of his eyes and mouth. His grip is firm and warm.

“My daughter, Melody, goes to Westview. You might know her?” he says, and I realize that it’s the Mr. Lee that Baba had mentioned before. I nod, even though I can’t recall Melody’s face.

The woman beside him gives me a smile too, offering her hand for me to shake. She has on a dark green blazer and matching skirt. Pearls adorn her ears and circle her neck. She looks elegant, with her perfectly made-up face.

“I’m Mrs. Tsai,” she introduces herself, and her voice is soft and gentle, like a teacher’s voice. “I’m the director for the Soulful Heart Dance Academy.” It takes every part of me not to react, and I force myself to keep my expression blank and pleasant. She is why Tina is hovering still, I understand now. To make sure she doesn’t reveal too much about what Tina’s been up to these past few months.

I force myself to smile.

“I’ve been trying to convince your parents to come join us at one of our Formosa Friendship Association events, and it looks like they might finally be interested!” Mrs. Tsai tells me and Tina. “We have youth groups too, so you can meet other Taiwanese kids!”

The thought of joining a group where I can meet more people for my parents to compare me to is less than thrilling, but Tina is already eagerly tugging on Baba’s arm, knowing that he’s the one who gives in to our requests more often than our mother does.

“We’ll talk about it,” Baba says, but he’s also smiling.

“Wonderful!” Mrs. Tsai puts her hands together. “I look forward to it. I hope you’ve been enjoying the festival!”

“We loved all the performances, but we do need more security here in Chinatown.” Ma purses her mouth. “Ruby was just attacked. Grabbed! Who knows what that man wanted with her.”

“I wasn’t—” I protest, but Mr. Lee waves over others dressed in security uniforms, very concerned, noting down the description of the man, ensuring that Ma’s complaints are heard.

No one listens to me. It wasn’t one of the visibly homeless people or the ones muttering to themselves who attacked me. The man who grabbed me looked like he could be my dad, an uncle, a teacher at my school, one of the security guards talking to my parents now. He could be any one of them. That was the most frightening part of all.