Read Online Dragon House by John Shors - Free Book Online Page B

them. The open-air market was comprised of scores of individual stalls that offered flowers rarely seen in the West. Many of the flowers sprang from branches, opening wide to the sky so their vibrant petals could gather as much sunlight as possible. Though they rose out of bamboo baskets that looked to have been woven at the dawn of time, the flowers were immaculately organized and presented. Brown or wilted petals weren’t in sight.
    Soon Iris passed Ben Thanh Market. She glanced inside the vaulted entry but didn’t stray from her path. An old woman with a girl on her lap managed to catch Iris’s eye. The woman held out a book and asked if Iris would buy it. She didn’t want the book, but seeing the girl’s thin legs and swollen joints, she placed thirty thousand dong—about two American dollars—into a coconut that the girl weakly held out. She would have liked to give more, but the operating budget for her father’s center was moderate at best, and she’d have to be careful with her resources.
    Continuing to follow her father’s directions, Iris turned down an alley. There was no sidewalk here, and, practically hugging the nearby buildings, she stayed as far from traffic as possible. Battered cars built by older generations rumbled by, often hitting potholes and sending brown water into the air. Aware of Noah struggling behind her, Iris walked slowly, pretending to study her surroundings.
    He tried to focus on the path before him but watched the locals watch him. Their eyes inevitably were drawn to his forehead and crippled leg, and he felt their stares as if they were hands pressing against his flesh.
    Iris turned left, stepping into a small courtyard. Behind this empty space rose a white, three-story building. The lower front of the building was open, resembling a two-car garage that one would find in the West. Above this entry, large, red letters spelled, THE IRIS RHODES CENTER FOR STREET CHILDREN. Having had no idea that her father named his center after her, Iris stood still. Her eyes immediately welled with tears. How long had the building carried her name? What other surprises were in store for her?
    “Let’s go in,” she heard herself say, her eyes still on the sign.
    Inside the open-air entry, a sizable room stretched toward the middle of the building. The room’s floor was checkered with green and white tiles. Its walls were also green, though the painted outlines of children dominated every surface. Some of the figures were playing soccer. Others were standing in a circle and holding hands. Iris couldn’t tell for sure, but it looked as if the children were meant to be dressed differently, as if they came from many countries.
    “Hello?” she called out, unsure what to do.
    His back aching, Noah sat awkwardly on a plastic chair. “Maybe we should—”
    “Miss Iris?” an unseen woman replied. “Miss Iris Rhodes? From Chicago?”
    Iris glanced up, for the first time noticing a stairwell at the side of the room. A young woman came down the stairs. She appeared to be in her early twenties. Her black pants and yellow button-down shirt were covered in smears and drops of blue and white paint. She wore a black baseball cap with a pink koala bear on the front. A long ponytail emerged from the hole in the back of the cap. The woman’s face seemed out of place when compared with her untidy attire. Large, oval-shaped eyes complemented dark, arched eyebrows. Her nose was sculpted and pleasing, her lips full and bent into a half smile. Though her baggy clothes hid much, she appeared to have a lean, almost girlish figure.
    “I am Thien,” she said in a soft but confident voice, bowing slightly. “Your father’s assistant and cook.”
    Iris had heard all about Thien, about how she was indispensable and almost unfailingly upbeat. Iris’s father had been served by her at a hotel and had later hired her to help him. By his account, she nearly ran his fledgling center—buying supplies, dealing with the