It had been a good day. They’d linked arms and sung defiant songs, and never before had that line in the “Internationale” about hot blood surging through their chests felt so strong, so true. More than one worker had gruffly thumped Siew Li on the back and said it was youngsters like her who would make the difference, that their future was in her hands. She felt the responsibility of it, and replied gravely that she was honoured to play her part. Who could stand by at such a time?

She’d broken away for a moment, and was fishing in her bag for her water bottle when she spotted him wandering by, in school uniform but nonetheless a different species from the rest of them. It was hard to explain how exactly she could tell—the strut of his walk, maybe, or the irony in his smile. “What’s going on?” he called.

“You know what’s going on,” she said. No time for this.

“Yup, saw it in the papers, came to see what’s happening.”

“Join us?”

“I don’t think I will, thanks.” His Chinese was stiff, as if he’d never actually had a conversation in the language. Typical Raffles boy. She switched to English for his benefit, never mind how awkward she found it. Let him see how hard it was for her, having to live in the world of white men’s words.

He was curious, so he’d come to have a look. She was torn between admiration and disgust. To be so detached, like this was nothing more than spectacle. And yet, to step inside, rather than pretending they didn’t exist like most of his fellows—that was something. He was called Jason, he told her, like the leader of the Argonauts. She didn’t pretend to know what that was, and he said he’d tell her another time. His hair was long, almost foppish, and kept falling into his eyes. She resisted the urge to brush it back. He offered his hand, and when she took it, held on a second too long.

“Be careful.” She nodded at the police, massing a short way off. “They might not be able to tell the difference between you and us. You don’t want to get arrested, do you?”

“It might be fun,” he said, grinning. But she noticed he took a careful couple of steps back. Then someone flung a bottle and there was a lot of shouting. She quickly pulled her scarf across her face, before they could start with the tear gas. He disappeared, like evaporating steam, while her attention was elsewhere. Good self-preservation, she thought. And yet, the spot where he’d touched her felt warm, and there was a softness in her stomach that didn’t bode well.