Free Confucius Jane by Katie Lynch

don’t.”
    â€œYour secret’s safe with me.”
    Sutton rested both hands on the barricade and focused on the oncoming procession. Sure enough, the parade was led by two men dressed in flowing, black-and-red jackets and pants, their cymbals glinting in the midday sun. Behind them danced two black-and-red lions, their massive, vaguely leonine heads bobbing up and down in synchrony. As one, their mouths snapped open to reveal red tongues and white-painted teeth. They shook their heads before charging at the barricades in a show of ferocity. The younger spectators squealed in delight.
    When they drew closer, Sutton saw that each lion was controlled by two puppeteers. One manipulated the head, twisting, raising, and lowering it in jerky movements that made the creature seem remarkably lifelike. The other held a strip of cloth that looked almost like a bridal train—the lion’s body, presumably.
    A float followed close behind the lions, bearing a crest with Chinese characters and the word community in English. On the slowly moving platform, a man pounded two large, timpani-like drums. Behind the float, at least two dozen men, women, and children dressed in identical red sweatshirts beat on smaller drums of their own or shook sticks that made a loud rattling sound.
    â€œThe drums are also for the demons?” Sutton asked, having to shout to make her voice heard.
    â€œYes. And there will be electronic firecrackers later.”
    Sutton’s next question was driven from her mind when one of the men suddenly broke ranks and trotted over toward them. A wiry fellow who looked to be in his late forties, he greeted Jane and conversed quickly with her in Chinese before returning to his compatriots.
    â€œPharmacist,” Jane explained over the horns and drums. “Asking after my uncle’s health. He had bronchitis last month.”
    Sutton nodded, marveling at just how tightly knit this community was. As the parade continued, she found herself growing more and more fascinated by the culture on display before her. Martial artists performed a choreographed series of forms, followed by a group of flag-bearers carrying a large banner of a golden monkey on a red background. Benny had mentioned that it was the Year of the Monkey, and Sutton wondered what that meant, exactly. After the flags came a marching band—by far the most Western aspect of the entire festival so far—followed by more dancing lions. When the one nearest them zigzagged toward the crowd, the head puppeteer’s face was visible for a moment.
    â€œLook,” she said, pointing. “That’s Benny.”
    Jane leaned forward. “You’re right, there he is. Impressive.”
    Sutton could see why his hips had been bothering him earlier in the week. Even as he held the lion’s head above his own, he was constantly moving—kicking his legs and spinning adroitly on his feet in synchrony with his partner.
    As Benny passed out of sight, Sutton felt the way she sometimes had as a girl when, on exceptionally clear nights out at her grandparents’ home on Long Island, she had floated on her back in the pool and looked up at the stars. A glimpse of the cosmos was always awe-inspiring—especially for a city girl. But what she remembered most was a sense of insignificance. Of smallness. Now, faced with the customs of a culture three thousand years old, that same sensation prickled at the edge of her consciousness. Religion had always been more a social obligation than a faith to her own parents, and they had no true family traditions outside of strategically alternating which relatives were visited during each holiday season. For an instant, as another troupe of drummers marched by, Sutton desperately wanted to believe in something bigger than herself.
    As quickly as it had arrived, the moment faded. She didn’t need demons or fortunes or astrology to explain the world when she had science. Exhaling