Turnabout

by Carmen Webster Buxton

  “Your sister told me.”

  He stopped dead. “Marjani?”

  I nodded and stopped, too. We were right outside the door to the men’s quarters.

  “I knew she was the one who had found you,” David said, switching to Neluan. “I didn’t realize you knew she was my sister—or that you had conversed with her.” He grinned as he opened the door. “It seems very like her to make conversation with a delinquent. How is Marjani?”

  I followed him inside. “She’s healthy, but probably not happy.”

  David led the way to the gym. He had a better gym than Hobart did—more equipment and more room. “You mean because Esi was killed?”

  I recalled Marjani saying that she and Esi had stayed a few weeks with her youngest brother. She must have meant David. “Marjani loved her very much.”

  David nodded. “I know that. Marjani never loved any man except her blood relations. It made life much harder for her.” He sort of sighed and tisked at the same time, like he was out of patience and disgusted. “When I heard she had turned you in, I hoped it meant she was more accepting of social conventions, but perhaps I was wrong. It was a great tragedy that Esi was a Kabarega. If she had been an Omdur, my sisters could have welcomed her as haru and Marjani would never have disgraced herself.”

  Another example of clans mattering more than anything else. It was fine for a woman to be gay as long as she could invite her lover into her household.

  “I wonder what Marjani will do now? I think my sisters would allow her to return to their household but— David stopped like he had just realized he was talking to a stranger and waved a hand at the dressing room. “Get changed, and we’ll get started.”

  We spent over an hour practicing jin-weh moves. After that I lifted weights for another hour. The exercise did help, but I still felt a restless energy.

  I lay in my lower bunk that night listening to the kid above me muttering in his sleep, and tried to think of a way to get home. Making the Turn was the only way. But I’d need to be in danger, and I’d need to be turned on, and in this house, neither one would be easy to do.

  IT was only two days later that David stuck his head into the classroom and called out my name.

  I looked up from my desk. “Yes?”

  He grinned at me. “There’s someone here to see you.”

  I started to ask who would come to see me—who would be allowed in to see me—when it came to me.

  It had to be Marjani.

  DAVID had parked his sister in a sitting room on the ground floor. Lisha sat there, too, planted firmly in an armchair. Her resolute air said she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Apparently I was allowed a visitor, but not a solo visit.

  Marjani looked well scrubbed but a little haggard, like she had cleaned herself up but hadn’t been sleeping well. Her thick black hair looked clean and recently trimmed, and her black pantsuit looked new.

  “Hello, Jason,” she said in Neluan.

  “Hello, Marjani.” I looked at Lisha and wondered if there was anything I could say to get her to leave.

  “Sit down, Jayzoon,” Lisha said.

  Apparently there wasn’t. I sat. “How are you?” I asked Marjani.

  “Well enough.” She glanced around the well furnished room. “You must be comfortable here. It’s a beautiful house.”

  It occurred to me that Lisha might be so firmly settled in because she mistrusted Marjani more than she mistrusted me. “It’s comfortable except they have me sleeping in a bunk bed with the older boys.” With Lisha sitting there, I didn’t want to mention her son’s horrible taste in music.

  Marjani grinned. “Well, they could hardly let you sleep with the older girls.”

  I smiled back, but Lisha didn’t looked amused.

  “I was sorry to hear about Esi,” I said, because it had to be said. “Very sorry.”

  A spasm of pain crossed Marjani’s face, but it was gone in seconds. “Thank you. I appreciate that you tried your best to help her.”

  I cleared my throat and wondered what else I could say. “Will you attend the trial?”

  The spasm came back, stronger this time. “No, probably not.” She stared out the window like she had never seen flowers and grass and hummingbirds. “The Kabaregas seem to be taking responsibility. No one is trying to get Dorscha off.”

  “What do you think her sentence will be?”

  “Life in a work camp,” Marjani said firmly, like she was convincing herself. “I hear the other prisoners treat murderers badly.” She turned back to look at me. “How strange that you should end up in my brother’s house!”

  “An amazing coincidence,” I said.

  Marjani shook her head. “Not that amazing. David has more sons than any man in Egume, so of course his house is more secure than most. And since his daughters are too young for you to marry, the Ocan Garun doesn’t mind that this is a Rufaro household, not an Omdur one.”

  Lisha frowned. I wasn’t sure if it was actual bad manners to mention the politics of my incarceration, or just plainer speaking than she liked, but clearly she was put out.

  “I thought this house was a school at first,” I said, hoping to lighten the atmosphere.

  Marjani smiled the most natural smile I had seen from her that day. “Not a school, only a family.” The smile faded a little. “Family is very important. I should have visited David before this.”

  It sounded like maybe she’d had a chance to talk with her brother. Hopefully, Lisha hadn’t stayed in the room for that, too.

  Marjani interrupted my thoughts by asking me about my fencing and jin-weh lessons with David.

  I rattled on about it while Lisha sat silent and disapproving.

  After about fifteen minutes, it was like a timer went off in Lisha’s head because she suddenly stood up. “Time for you to go, Marjani.”

  I jumped up, too, as Marjani got to her feet. She surprised me by offering her hand.

  “Goodbye, Jason.”

  I reached out to shake Marjani’s hand and as I clasped it, I felt something solid in her palm.

  She gripped my hand tightly. “As my father used to say to me, study well, and you’ll be sure to prosper.”

  I managed to grasp whatever it was when she let go of me. “Thank you. I will.”

  Lisha made it clear that she was going to be the one to walk Marjani to the gate, not me, which was fine with me. I went straight to the men’s quarters and locked myself in the bathroom so I could see what Marjani had slipped me.

  It was just a piece of paper folded several times. I unfolded it, and found a rough floor plan of David’s house. Right at the base of the janullo Marjani had drawn an arrow with a notation. ‘Access panel on second floor’ it said.

  Underneath the drawing was a brief note:

  Jason—

  Find a saw that can cut metal. You will need it to cut through the vents. You can get outside once you are above the house. Please destroy this note.

  That was it—just those four sentences with no signature. But it was enough. Marjani had given me a way out!

  Seventeen

  I wasted no time looking for the access panel in Marjani’s drawing. The older girls’ rooms occupied that part of the second floor, so I waited until the next morning when they had all left for school and my classes hadn’t started yet. A tapestry hung over the wall between the window and the nearest bedroom, but whether the panel was hidden for security reasons or for aesthetics, I didn’t know.

  When I pulled the tapestry back, I could see the panel was more of a door, made of wood, about four feet high and two feet wide. It had hinges on one side and a lock with a keyhole on the other. I didn’t think I could pick the lock, so I checked the screws that secured the hinges to the wall, to see what kind of tool I would need to take them off. The screw heads had a three-legged groove rather than a single flat groove or a crossed one, so a knife wouldn’t work.

  I went to class trying to think where I could find the right tools. I couldn’t
recall seeing any tools in the house. Over the course of the day I went looking, but there I was balked. No one seemed to have any, and unlike Hobart’s house, I wasn’t welcome in the kitchen. The wife who cooked the meals didn’t look happy when she caught me pulling open drawers later that afternoon.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” she asked.

  “Irna is giving the boys a lesson on plants, in the courtyard,” I said. “And I’m hungry.”

  She frowned at the drawer full of eating utensils I had just opened. “You won’t find any food in there.”

  She fetched some crackers from a cupboard and shooed me firmly away.

  I ate the crackers and then went to join the boys in the courtyard. Irna smiled at me as she expounded on the various types of plants growing in the flower beds and hanging planters, and then we all trooped back to the schoolroom for a quiz, which I failed because I hadn’t been paying attention.

  “Don’t worry, Jayzoon,” Irna said. “You’ll catch up soon.”

  I didn’t want to catch up; I wanted to go home.

  And then, that afternoon I found help in the most unlikely place.

  DAVID’S oldest daughter was an eleven-year-old named Nuri. She had pretty much ignored me since my arrival, and I hadn’t had a reason to pay much attention to her.

  But that afternoon I was watching out the window of the dorm when Nuri pushed a funny-looking wobbly bicycle into the courtyard. I had seen bikes in the street, and in pictures in my schoolbooks, but not up close. No one in Hobart’s house had used one. Nuri propped the bike up against one of the benches and set a wooden toolbox down on the ground next to it.

  I got up and went outside. I tried to look casual as I walked over to where Nuri had opened the toolbox and was laying out tools. “What are you doing?” I asked.

  She looked up at me and squinted. I realized the sun was behind me, and she must be looking up at it. “None of your business.”

  I was much too hopeful about the toolbox to take the hint. I crouched down next to her and inspected the bike. It had two wheels, but no chain that I could see. I wasn’t sure if it was supposed to have a chain or not. It didn’t look like any bicycle I had ever ridden. It had a steering wheel instead of handlebars, and the seat was almost a chair. “Is it broken?”

  She made a dismissive noise. “Yes. Why else would someone have thrown it away?”

  That surprised me. “I thought your family was too rich to worry about fixing broken things.”

  Nuri gave me a disdainful grimace, like I had made a stupid suggestion. “I’m not fixing it because I need to fix it. I’m fixing it because I like fixing things.”

  Just the kind of person I needed. I felt better than I had in days. “So what’s broken?”

  She screwed her face up into a look of intent interest. “I’m not sure. I never fixed anything as big as a bicycle before.”

  I glanced down at the toolbox and the tools spread out on the grass. Among them was an assortment of different-sized screwdrivers and what looked like a hacksaw. Yes! “Do you have any books on how bicycles work?”

  She lifted her face in a more thoughtful expression. “Books?”

  I had a sudden wrenching sense of homesickness because it reminded me of helping Lorrie with her middle school science project. “Yeah. Sometimes when something is broken it helps to find a book on how it’s supposed to work.”

  She mulled that over for a bit, and then scrambled to her feet. “Don’t touch anything! I’ll be right back.”

  She turned and ran for the girls’ wing. I got up and reviewed the courtyard as I slid onto the bench. A couple of the boys were playing a game of marbles in one corner, four girls were jumping rope—two turning the ends and the other two jumping in turn to a rhyme—and one of the wives was sitting in the sun knitting a scarf, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to me.

  And then I noticed Lisha in the sitting room window. She was leaning on her elbows and looking right at me. I leaned back and stretched my legs out in front of me, like I didn’t have a care in the world.

  I might have found some tools, but they were a long way from in my hands. I’d have to watch my step.

  NURI and I worked on the broken bicycle for two days. At the end of each day she carefully packed up her tools and took away the toolbox, which frustrated me no end, but I was still hopeful, because I at least knew the right tools were in the house.

  Nuri was much more mechanically inclined than I was, but sometimes she needed an extra pair of hands, so she tolerated me. Her mother had bought her all the missing bike parts and found her a book on bicycle repair, and with that help, it seemed likely Nuri could get everything working again.

  On the third day, I was sitting on the grass watching while Nuri fastened the gearshift back onto the frame when I saw a shadow on the grass next to us. I turned and saw David looking down at us.

  “How is it going?” he asked.

  “Almost done,” Nuri said. She grinned. “Did you think I couldn’t fix it, Daida?”

  David shook his head. “Never.” He nodded at me. “But I didn’t expect you would have help.”

  Nuri frowned.

  “I’m just the assistant,” I said. “I hand her things, and sometimes I help her tighten bolts and things.”

  This seemed to mollify Nuri. “Jayzoon has been helpful.”

  David looked the bike over and then looked at Nuri. “Is it too big for you?”

  It was a little big. Nuri had tried it out the day before and her tiptoes could barely touch the ground when she sat on the seat. “It’s fine,” she said.

  David glanced around the courtyard. “You’ll have to take it outside to really try it out. Not enough room here.”

  Nuri tightened the last nut, gave the pedals a spin, and stood up. “I wish you could come watch me, Daida.”

  “I wish I could, too.” David sounded a little wistful. “But your mother will be home from work soon.”

  “I don’t need help.” Nuri’s tone reeked of indignation. “I can ride it, but I wish you could watch me.”

  “I can watch from the window,” he said. “Your mother’s room is on the side of the house that overlooks the park.”

  I knew the room he meant. I had scoped out every window in the house. The ones that overlooked the street next to the park were all tall but very narrow, only about eight inches wide.

  Nuri tossed her wrench into the toolbox and shut the lid. “I’ll put this away, and then you and Jayzoon can go watch me.”

  I started to offer to take the toolbox but David was too quick for me. He took the box from Nuri’s hand. “I’ll take care of it. You take your bike outside.”

  She grinned and pushed the bike along. It rolled smoothly, without a squeak or a wobble.

  “She’s very good with her hands,” I said.

  “Her mother is an engineer,” David said. “Nuri comes by the talent from her.” He waved the toolbox toward the house. “Come on. Let’s go see how she does.”

  I followed. I would have followed that toolbox anywhere in the house.

  David led the way to the second floor in the main part of the house. He pushed the door to Nuri’s mother’s room open without knocking, but then he knew the occupant wasn’t there. We moved to the two narrow windows set into the wall, without drapes or curtains obscuring them.

  David stood at one window, and I stood at the other. Down in the street I could see Nuri waiting by her bicycle, looking up at the house. When David waved, she smiled and waved back.

  She tilted the bike and swung one leg over the bar.

  “Does she even know how to ride?” I asked.

  “She’s had a bike for years, but it’s smaller,” David said. “I hope this one isn’t too much for her.”

  Nuri had got herself upright on the bike. She pushed off quickly, wobbled once, then straightened out and took off at a brisk pace, speeding down the street and turning the corner to circle the park.

  “She’s doing f
ine,” David said, as if I were the only one who had doubted Nuri could handle the bike. He put the toolbox down on the table between the windows and stood with his hands on his hips, watching out the window.

  In a few seconds, Nuri came around the corner of the park and headed back toward the house. She was doing well until a dog ran into the street in front of her.

  Nuri braked, but she wasn’t able to get her foot down in time to stop herself from falling. Just as David shouted a warning that Nuri could never have heard, a hovercar pulled out from an adjacent house.

  Nuri went down, and I couldn’t see whether the hovercar went over her or not.

  “Nuri!” David turned and raced from the room at a dead run.

  I felt terrible for not running just as fast, but I didn’t know how many chances I would get. I ripped open the toolbox, found the screwdriver and the hacksaw, closed the box, and only then left the room. I didn’t go straight to the courtyard, though. I ran to the corridor with the tapestry and stuck the tools behind it. I made sure they didn’t show at all and then, finally, I raced downstairs and outside.

  David was pacing by the steel door next to the hovercar entrance.

  “What happened?” I demanded before he could ask where I had been. “I couldn’t see well. What happened?”

  “Nuri fell,” he said, running one hand through his black hair. He looked pale, and he had a portable phone clenched in one hand. “Lisha is checking on her.”

  The phone blipped, and David lifted it to eye level. “What?”

  I couldn’t see Lisha’s face but I heard her voice from where I stood. She sounded concerned. “She hit her head. And her arm looks odd. I think she’ll be all right, but I’ve called an ambulance.”

  Shoulders hunched, David kept his head down as he asked a few questions. He got incomplete answers because Lisha wasn’t a doctor. In a few minutes we heard the wail of a siren. David tried to see out the steel gates of the car entrance, but it didn’t show much except the ambulance passing in a blur.

  More of David’s wives, sons, and daughters gathered at the gate as they heard what had happened. Finally, Lisha called to say she was at the hospital, and Nuri would be fine, but two of her ribs were cracked and her arm was broken. They were keeping her overnight to be sure nothing more serious was wrong. Lisha said Nuri’s mother was on her way, and that Lisha would come home only after Nuri’s mother had arrived.