So Much for Democracy (14 page)

“What kind of snake was it?” I ask.

“Python. I couldn't keep any of the eggs,” says Gordo absently. He's already totally focused on the spider, and I might as well not be here.

I find Thomas sitting near the laundry area, drinking tea. His whittling knife lies across his leg, and he holds a broken bird in his hand. I've seen him make dozens of animals, and I've never seen him break one.

“What happened?” I ask, sliding down next to him.

He gathers the bird pieces and folds them into his hand.

“Have you finished your book?” he asks.

“I didn't like it,” I say.

“What was it about?”

He's trying to get to me talk about my book so I won't ask him any questions, but there's something wrong, I know it, so I pick up a piece of wood on which he's drawn the outline of an elephant and say, “What happened to the bird?”

He opens his hand. The bird is still beautiful, even though one of its wings is broken.

“It snapped. It happens,” he says.

“Why? Why did it snap?”

“It just did,” he says.

I pick the bird and its wing out of his hand and hold the two pieces together. “Can you fix it?” I ask.

He takes a long drink of his tea and puts the cup on the ledge, then stands up and wipes the grass from his pants.

“I don't think so, Astrid,” he says.

He picks up his shovel and walks away, and I'm left holding a beautiful, broken bird in my hand. I'll take it inside and glue it back together. It can be fixed. I'll show him.

TWENTY-ONE

I hear Thomas and Dad talking in the driveway on Monday morning, so I already know what Thomas is going to say when he comes to find me. I see him coming, so I pick up my book and walk toward the door.

“Asteroid,” he calls, but I pretend I don't hear and keep walking until I'm in the kitchen.

He won't follow me in here.

Abena is here, though, and she says, “Thomas is looking for you. He wants to tell you something.”

“Stupid Thomas,” I say, but not loud enough for her to hear.

“You go find him,” she says. I want to pretend I can't hear her either, but since she's standing a couple of feet away from me, I can't. She opens the door.

“Go on,” she says.

Thomas is across the yard, raking, so I walk toward the back, where Gordo is watching the spider spin its web again. Gordo takes no notice when I get there, so I sit next to him and watch too. The spider moves slowly and hardly seems to be doing anything, but then she reaches the other side of the web, and suddenly a new line connects the two pieces together.

Thomas comes across the yard, so I stand up to go somewhere else, but he catches my eye and I sit back down again.

“Go away,” I say to Gordo.

“Get lost,” says Gordo.

“Go on.” I don't want to have this conversation with Gordo here, even though he'll have to find out soon.

“Hi, you two,” says Thomas.

“She's almost done,” Gordo says, pointing at the web. Thomas nods, then says, “Astrid, can you help me for a minute?” I nod but don't say anything as he leads me around to the front of the house.

“Astrid, I'm leaving. I have to go.”

“Fine,” I say. My voice is higher than I intend.

“Esi wants me to say goodbye to you from her. She gave me this to give to you.” He holds out a tape. The word
Blondie
is written on the case.

“Fine,” I say again.

“Don't be like that, Astrid.”

I glare at him. I want to speak, but my mouth won't open. Words crowd into my head but refuse to leave my mouth.

“We have to go—you know we do. Esi's afraid to go back to the market. There's nothing for her to do here. There's no future for us.”

I nod, still unable to speak, and take the tape from him.

I stare at my feet.

“We'll talk again before I go,” he says.

I make myself get up early the next morning and go outside to wait for Thomas. It's so early the roosters are still crowing, but I want to make sure I'm there when Thomas comes. I sit on the step and lean against the house.

The wheelbarrow man walks past, then another man with a bundle of wood on his head, then three women carrying plastic tubs, and then, finally, Thomas. He turns into the drive and smiles at me as always.

“Asteroid,” he says.

“Hi, Thomas.”

Instead of going to the shed as usual, he comes and sits next to me. He pulls off his toque and jacket and plunks them in a heap between us.

“I'm sorry for yesterday,” I say.

“It's okay, Astrid. I understand.”

“And I'm sorry you and Esi have to go.”

He takes a deep breath. “Me too.”

I finger the bundle on my lap.

“You understand why we have to go, don't you?” Thomas asks.

“Not really, but I guess it's because of what happened at the market. And the soldier who came here.”

“It's not safe there for Esi. I don't want her there.”

“Yeah,” I say.

“And she doesn't want to go back there either.”

“Yeah.” I understand that. I can't even imagine what it was like.

“But Thomas, I was thinking: What if I sell your animals at school for you when the summer holidays are over? I bet loads of people would buy them.”

Thomas leans back against the wall and closes his eyes, and I think I've said something bad. Something insulting. But then he opens his eyes and pulls me into a hug. “You have such a good heart, Astrid.”

“So it's a good idea, right?” I ask.

“No. It's a generous idea, but not a good one.”

“How come?”

“Your teachers would never let you, and neither would your parents.”

I hadn't thought of that. He's right though. I can picture the look on the headmistress's face. If it weren't so sad, it would make me laugh.

“Where will you go?” I ask.

“Esi's family lives in Kumasi. We'll go there for a while.”

“And you'll work with her brothers.”

“Yes.”

“But it won't be as good as working here,” I say.

Thomas laughs. “I like Esi's brothers, and I'll be able to make more animals and sell them in their store.”

“But there won't be Gordo and Piper and me.”

“No, Astrid, there won't.” Thomas smiles and gathers his toque and jacket. “I'd better get to work.”

“Here,” I say. I hand him the bundle I've been holding in my lap.

“What is it?”

“Open it and see.”

Thomas peels back the paper. “Oh, Astrid,” he says. He picks the bird up and cradles it in his hand. The two wings soar away from the body like the bird is in mid-flight.

“Mom helped me glue it back together,” I say.

He holds it out and turns it around and around, peering at each wing.

“I can hardly see where it broke. Thank you, Astrid.”

“You're welcome.”

He walks away, still holding the bird up to the light.

TWENTY-TWO

On the weekend, we go to the beach. It's been over a month since we were last there. No wonder Gordo and I are excited. Dad packs a huge picnic, and Piper struts around with her swimming wings on. It takes Dad absolutely ages to convince her that she can't wear them in the car. Even Mom shows up at the car when it's time to leave.

When we get to the beach, Thema and Ebo are already there, and the four of us race into the waves. Ebo wins, so he gets to splash the rest of us, but we don't care, because the water is so refreshing.

“I could stay here all day,” I say to Thema.

“Me too,” she says.

Thema and I get the air mattresses from the car trunk and blow them up. I glance over at Mom, but she's paying attention to Piper. Thema and I launch ourselves and float out from the shore. The waves rock us, and I lie on my stomach and trail my fingers in the water. It's so relaxing.

When Mom calls us in for lunch I can hardly move, I'm so sleepy. Ebo is nearby, so Thema calls out to him, “Ebo, come pull us into shore.”

He ducks underwater and disappears until he surfaces behind us.

“Why would I want to do that?” he asks.

“Because Astrid's sleepy,” Thema says.

I blush, as usual, and turn away from Ebo, but he swims to my air mattress and tickles my toes until I squirm.

“Still tired?” he asks.

I laugh but say, “Yes.” And I am. I feel like I need to sleep for a week. I guess I must sound convincing, because he says, “Okay,” and he swims around to the front of the air mattresses and pulls us to shore.

“There you go,” he says as we reach the sand.

“Thanks, Ebo,” I say.

“Astrid, are you okay?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, after Gordo was sick and all, and your mom…and I heard a soldier came to your house.”

“Yeah, but it's okay. I'm fine.” It's true too. Everyone seems better—even Mom seems more normal. Not totally normal, but better. It's like her worst fears came true when Gordo got sick and the soldier came to our house, but now they're over, and she's going to be okay.

“Hmmm,” he says, but he picks up a towel from the pile on the sand and wipes his face and hair, then runs up the beach to where our parents have already started eating.

Thema takes my hand and says, “Come on, Astrid, I'm starving,” so the two of us rest our air mattresses against a coconut palm and join the picnic.

When we're finished eating, Ebo says, “Let's try out the boogie boards.”

Gordo jumps up, spraying sand everywhere, and says, “Okay.”

I don't bother getting excited, because there's no way that we're going to be allowed, but Dad says, “I'd like to try them too.”

Gordo hops up and down and poses like a surfer. He swaggers around the picnic blankets and calls everyone “dude” until we're all laughing. Mr. Ampofo hands Ebo the car keys, and he and Gordo take six bodyboards out of the trunk.

“They're not full-sized surfboards, Gordo,” says Mr. Ampofo. “They're for bodyboarding, not surfing.”

“I know,” says Gordo, and he doesn't sound disappointed at all.

“Who wants to try?” asks Mr. Ampofo.

“Me,” says Ebo.

“Me,” says Gordo.

“Me,” says Thema.

“Me,” I say.

“Me,” says Dad.

I wait for Mom to say something. She stiffens, and I think,
Here we go
, but Dad takes her aside and talks to her for a minute, and when he comes back, he says, “Let's go.”

If Mom is going to let us go, we're going. We each take a board and walk down the beach a bit to where there is more surf, then wade out chest deep.

Ebo and his Dad have done it before, so they go first. They point their boards toward shore and wait until a wave rises up behind them, then launch their chests across the boards and kick furiously until the wave catches them and carries them to shore. Ebo whoops as he goes.

Gordo and Thema and I try for the next wave. I can feel it building behind me, so I wait until it lifts my feet, then kick like mad. There's froth around my shoulders, and the board leaps forward, slides down the front of the wave and races to shore.

“Wow!” I say to Ebo when I get there. He grins at me and runs back out to the waves.

I do it again.

And again.

Each time, I feel like I'm flying.

The boards are better on bigger waves, but finally one comes that's so big it tips me right off my board, and I go under. Water churns around me, and something hits me on the head. For a second I rise to the surface and gulp air, but then I'm pulled under again and dragged along the bottom. Coral scrapes across my arm. Salt gets into my eyes and mouth, and when I finally reach shore and the wave recedes, I gasp and splutter. My eyes sting. My arm smarts.

My board rears up behind me as another wave comes in, and it smacks into my legs, knocking me over again. Sand piles into my bathing suit as I'm dragged back into the water. I struggle to stand, and when I do, I grab my board and wade to shore.

Gordo and Thema are already there. “Are you okay?” Thema asks.

I nod, though my eyes are still blurry. “I think I'm done,” I say.

“Me too,” says Thema.

“I'm going back out,” says Gordo and runs out to where Ebo and Dad wait for the next wave.

I wave to Dad and point toward the cars. He waves, and Thema and I walk back to where our moms are.

When Mom sees us, she leaps to her feet. “Astrid, what happened?”

“It's nothing,” I say, and I put my arm behind my back where she can't see it. But Mom has eagle eyes, and she pulls my arm toward her.

“I fell off my board,” I say. My arm is sore where the scrape is.

“What is your father thinking, letting you all out there?” she says. I expect her to march down the beach and haul Dad and Gordo back, but instead she takes a deep breath.

“It's okay,” she says. I think she's saying it to herself more than to me, but I smile and nod and pretend my arm isn't stinging like heck.

“Go put the board in the Ampofos' car, then come back and I'll put something on that scrape,” says Mom.

“It's fine, Mom,” I say, but she glares at me, and I figure I'd better not push her too far.

Thema and I put our boards in the trunk, and then I go back to where Mom's sitting. She takes my arm and peers at the scrape.

“Mom,” I say, “thanks for not going berserk over this.”

She lets go of my arm. “Going berserk? Is that what you think I was doing?”

“Well…” I don't want to say
yes, you were really crazy
, so instead I don't say anything.

Mom rummages around in the huge first-aid kit she always brings, and I think she's going to let my comment pass, but then she says, “You know, Astrid, I did learn something in the last few days.”