“Big things in the works for the veterans,” Everett said now, kicking the dirt road with the toe of his shoe. “They’re callin’ a meeting. No one who’s been over there should miss it.”

“Oh?”

“Hotel Barbara Worth.” Everett raised his eyebrows and dropped them. “Classy.”

“When?” Amarjeet asked.

At that ball game, the other vets had mentioned other times they had met, times that Amarjeet had not known about. Once at Everett’s parents’ home. Once at Mount Signal, for a picnic with some girls from their old high school. Once at the Hotel Dunlack for a dinner hosted by Sam Pinkerton’s father. Sam was civil to Amarjeet now, even warm, ever since recovering from his injuries and coming home. It was good to know that saving his life may have changed his views. Somehow, wherever he was, Amarjeet felt Harry knew that. It had been Harry who had gone over the top of the trench to get Sam out of the line of fire, but Amarjeet had pulled him down inside, to the deep safety of the dugout. But still, Amarjeet had not been invited to the dinner.

“You didn’t get an invite?”

“Naw—” Amarjeet said.

“Here.” Everett plucked a card from his pocket and shoved it into Amarjeet’s hand.

If you are a veteran, honorably discharged, soldier or sailor, regardless of rank or political convictions, regardless of whether you served overseas or on the home front, please add your number to our group, at 2:00 P.M. at the Hotel Barbara Worth.

“See? You’re a Doughboy, ain’t ya? Tomorrow, all right?”

Perhaps it was too much to ask that he be invited to the west side of El Centro, whether to a home or hotel. But ball games that the vets organized themselves, picnics with no women present—these he was asked to attend, along with Mohamid Nawaz, along with Ho Look, Wong Yan, William Anjai and Py Okaymoto, Manuel Pedro, and Haygash Pampeyan. It did not matter that he was not invited, Amarjeet told himself. How could the families of these boys understand the bond their sons shared over there? He could not expect their women to feel safe with people not their kind.

“Sounds swell,” Amarjeet said. He would be there.

THE NEXT MORNING, he dressed in his good shirt and dress slacks and asked to borrow Karak’s car.

“Meeting up with a girl, are you?” Karak said, looking him up and down.

If he had told Karak that he was going to the Hotel Barbara Worth, Karak would not have believed it. “A veterans’ meeting.” Amarjeet could not keep the pride out of his voice, but Karak did not seem to care.

Amarjeet parked on Main Street. Some of the boys were out front, gathered around Sam Pinkerton. He was telling the others a joke and they were leaning in to hear. As Amarjeet approached, the men erupted in laughter.