“Where are you going?” he asked.
I put a piece of bread in my mouth and chewed for a while. Could I trust this boy? Could I tell him I was running away? “I’m trying to get out of here,” I said, almost to myself.
He watched me and kept his mouth shut for a while. At length, he said, “I got this disease when I was in the mountains.”
Sangwon lifted one foot and removed his sock. All the toes were black from frostbite. He picked up a stone from the street, and before I could stop him, pounded the top of his foot with it. When I took the stone away from him, he smiled and said, “It’s okay. I don’t feel anything. They’re completely dead. They aren’t part of my body anymore.” He put his sock back on.
“You should go see a doctor,” I said, still staring at his foot.
“Oh, well. It’s been long time. I got it when I crossed the river. Not a big deal.”
Sangwon had guessed my plan. Most people came here hoping to cross the border; their large bags gave them away. Wandering around with a small backpack certainly made me look like a novice.
“I ran into pickpockets in a street market,” I explained. “I didn’t expect it. An old woman let me know my backpack was torn; I even didn’t realize I had been robbed.”
“Don’t trust anybody here—even old women or soldiers. Oh, soldiers are the worst! They can do whatever they want. Don’t even think about sitting next to them. Actually, you shouldn’t have trusted me either.”
He smiled as he said this, and I smiled back at him. How could I not trust this boy?
“This time of year is okay. In winter, it’s easy to cross over because the river is frozen, but border control is much stricter. Summer is tougher—the water isn’t as cold as in winter, but the river is high and the current is really fast, so border control isn’t as strict. Young guys try in the summer. Spring is the best time, because the water is low and not too cold. Now is still a little bit early. The ice must have melted, but the water will still be chilly. You should be prepared.”
Sangwon put his hat back on. The hat was big and was peppered with cigarette burn-holes, but it looked really warm. I helped him find the front of the hat, and he pressed it down hard and said, “If you’ll trust me one more time, we can go together.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“We should get out of here as soon as possible,” he continued. “I was heading to the border too.”
I nodded, and he reached out his hand, smiling, and motioned me to do the same. He slapped my palm twice. “Okay. So we’re comrades from now on. Did you buy a ticket?”
“Not yet. I don’t know if I have enough money.”
“How much do you have?”
I showed my money to Sangwon, my comrade. He counted it and said, “It looks okay, if the station didn’t raise the fares.” He stared pointedly at the badge on my chest. “But there is one way to make money.” He handed my money back to me and asked, “Do you have a travel permit?”
“Here.” I showed it to him, but he barely looked at it.
“Okay. Then it’s much easier. What’s your destination?”
“I haven’t decided yet. I can go as far as Onsong with this card.”
“Then let’s go to Hoeryong. That’s closer to the place where I usually stay in China.”
We rose and walked behind the station. I saw a line of eight or nine people sitting down with their backs against the wall. Some leaned their heads on the person next to them, their eyes closed tight, while others gazed blankly in front of them, never blinking. Their skin was black, but it was different from the foreigners with black skin I’d seen at the hotel. Black spots covered their faces.
“Sangwon, don’t you think those people look weird?” I poked his forearm.
Sangwon pulled me to his side. “You’d better not look. They’re dead.”
“No!” I shouted, in spite of myself, gripping his hand tightly.
“They all died of starvation, waiting there.”
I looked again. The dead sat naturally and seemed to watch people as they passed. I shuddered with fear.
Inside the station, Sangwon elbowed his way through the crowd and pulled me along. We came to a man wearing a neat blue coat, standing with a small bag at his feet. The man lit a cigarette.
Sangwon walked up to him and pulled at his coat lightly. “Hello, sir. Did you find good things to buy over there?”
He looked down at Sangwon with annoyance and snapped, “Go away. I don’t have any food.”
“No, sir. That’s not my business with you today. I have a badge to sell—how about a hundred and fifty won?”
The man sneered, “Where? Show it first. If you’re lying, I’m going to break both your legs.”
“See, I’m not lying.” Sangwon pointed at my chest. The man’s eyes moved to the badge and then up to my face, then to Sangwon and back to me.
“Are you willing to sell it?” he asked.
Sangwon glanced at me quickly and whispered, “You won’t need that over there.” Then he grinned and replied, “She will, for a hundred and fifty won. It’s a nice one, with two leaders’ faces on one badge. You can sell it at a good price to foreign travelers if they know it’s really from North Korea.”
The badge showed the faces of both Kim Il Sung and Kim Jong Il. Working at the hotel, I had had to wear it at all times. I couldn’t believe I was selling it now. My chest without the badge—I hadn’t even considered that possible.
The man examined the badge for a moment. “This one has too many scratches. One hundred won.”
Sangwon immediately grabbed my hand and said, “Let’s go, we can do much better. A badge with the two leaders is worth more.”
The man seized Sangwon’s shoulder and grimaced. “This kkot-jebi—you know this place too well. Okay, a hundred and thirty won. Don’t even think about more.”
“Okay,” Sangwon said, unpinning the badge from my chest. “Here. Give me the money.”
The man pointed at me with his chin. “Is she your sister?”
“No, she is my mom,” Sangwon replied instantly.
The man sneered, looking at me, “Are you kidding? Doesn’t she sell flowers here?”
Sangwon growled back, “I said she’s my mom. Of course she doesn’t sell flowers.” He grabbed my hand firmly and started to walk away.
The man shouted after us, “Let me know if you need help. I like your deaf-mute sister.”
“That dirty-mouthed—” Sangwon swore without looking back at him.
“Why did he buy the badge?” I asked.
“He can sell it to foreign travelers in China as a souvenir. It’s one of the most popular items there, actually. In China, you’ll see Chinese selling North Korean items to foreign travelers everywhere. Here the badge is sacred, but there it’s like a toy.”
I felt empty, as if I had lost a part of my body.
As though reading my mind, Sangwon said, “It’s not as important as our lives. It’s just a souvenir now—what we weed is money and food. You would have to throw it away as soon as you crossed the border, anyway. Keeping it would be dangerous.” He pressed the money into my hand.
“By the way, why did he ask me whether I sell flowers?” I asked. “I have seen so many women shouting that they’re selling flowers, but with no flowers to sell.”
“What he asked was whether you’d sell your body to him.”
My face turned red with anger. I turned and saw the man still standing there, leering.
“People find ways to survive,” Sangwon said, pulling me away toward the ticket booth.
People were shouting over each other for tickets, pushing and pulling like waves beating on the seashore. It was far too crowded.