by Kari Jones
Bassam hangs his head and says, “Yes, Sister Mary,” but after she leaves, he laughs and calls to the boys, “Did you see that?” Something about the tone of his voice makes me shiver.
It’s a relief when school is over for the day and we can go home.
Mom’s still cheery when she picks us up, and she chats on the way home about some new plant she and Thomas are trying out in the garden. We eat scrambled eggs for lunch, and afterward, Mom puts Piper down for her nap.
I go outside to read under the tree for a bit while the household is quiet. It’s a little cooler today, and there are clouds in the sky. It might even rain. Thomas comes by, holding something behind his back, and when he reaches me, he says, “Guess which hand.”
“Right,” I say.
He holds out his right hand. It’s wrapped around a bundle, which he places in my lap.
“What is it?”
“Open it and see.” He leans against the tree.
The bundle is a piece of cloth draped around something hard. I feel it, then say, “Oh, it’s Piper’s hippo!”
Thomas grins. “Do you think she’ll like it?”
I pull the cloth off and run my hand over the smooth surface of the carving. The hippo is smaller than I expected, all round ears and snout and bum. It has stubby legs and pin-prick eyes. It seems to be smiling. “It’s beautiful,” I say.
“I made it small for Piper to hold,” says Thomas. He takes it from me and cradles it in his hand. “See?”
“She’ll love it,” I say.
“You can give it to her when she wakes up,” he says.
“You should give it to her.”
“No, Asteroid, you should.” He hands me back the hippo and wraps my hand around it.
I don’t know what to say. Should I offer to pay him? Should I ask him him to give it to Piper so she knows he made it? Before I can answer my questions, Thomas says, “It’s a new model for me. I think people will like this one.”
It makes me feel better to know he will be able to sell other hippos.
I run my thumb across the smooth wood one more time, then say, “Thank you, Thomas. It’s really special. She’ll love it.”
Dad comes home a few minutes later with Mr. Ampofo, Thema’s dad. Their faces are serious when they walk through the door, and Dad says, “Astrid, where’s your mother?” before he even says hello. I point to the living room, and the two of them march in. I follow, but Dad says, “We need to speak to your mother privately,” and he closes the door.
I’m caught between being angry and being curious, so I stand next to the door and put my ear to it in case I can hear something, but I can’t.
“Damn,” I whisper, and after I try one more time, I go upstairs to change out of my uniform. When I come back down the stairs, Dad and Mr. Ampofo and Mom are standing in the doorway. They haven’t seen me, so I stop and listen to what they’re saying.
“It will be fine, Joanne. Come tonight and we’ll talk more,” says Mr. Ampofo. He smiles at Mom, but she says, “I’m not sure we should be out on the roads. Richard, what do you think?”
“It will be fine, Joanne,” Dad says.
“But the kids. I don’t want the kids going anywhere they don’t have to. I want to know where they are at all times,” Mom says.
“Joanne, I think you’re overreacting. The man’s in jail. It’s over,” says Dad.
Mom laughs a not-amused laugh and says, “Still.”
Her face is pale, and with shock I realize that she’s really scared.
Dad must see it too, because he says, “Fine. We’ll go tonight, and then for a day or two we’ll keep the kids at home except for when they’re at school. But really, it’s over and it’s all fine.”
Thema’s dad leaves then, and Mom and Dad stand together at the doorway. I make a lot of noise coming down the rest of the stairs so they’ll think I just got there.
“How come Thema’s dad was here? What’s going on?” I ask.
Dad glances at Mom, then says, “Nothing to worry about. A soldier tried to take over the government, but he failed and it’s over. We’re going to Thema’s for dinner, so bring your bathing suit.”
“Oh,” I say. Suddenly I have so many questions. “How does a soldier take over a government? What does that mean? What does it mean that he failed? Is the government still the same government? Why did he do that? Aren’t there about to be elections?”
Dad holds his hand up to stop my words. “Astrid, I really don’t have the answers to all those questions. Now, I’m thirsty and your mother needs to lie down. We’ll talk later. Go and tell Gordo we’re going to the Ampofos’ for dinner.” He takes Mom’s arm. Her face is set in a mask of fear.
“Dad,” I say, but he mouths the words “Not now” and nods meaningfully at Mom. I back away. I’ve never seen a look like that on Mom’s face, and it makes something deep in my stomach fall, as if the ground I thought I was standing on suddenly isn’t there anymore.
“Dad?” But he’s not listening to me. He leads Mom down the hallway, and she holds on to him like she needs his support to stay on her feet. I reach my hand out to the wall and lean into its solidness.
Evening takes a long time to come. I try to talk to Dad again, but he locks himself in the study and doesn’t answer when I knock. I try to phone Thema, but there’s no dial tone. So I head outside to look for Thomas, but Abena tells me he went home early today. The only thing I can do is sit under the tree and bite my fingernails while I wait.
When Mom and Dad and Gordo come out of the house to go to Thema’s, I search Mom’s face, but she smiles at me and hands me Piper before she climbs into the car.
“How are you feeling, Mom?” I ask.
“Fine, sweetie. How are you?” she says. I glance over the top of the car at Dad. He shakes his head at me, so I climb into the back seat next to Gordo.
At Thema’s, about a dozen parents are pacing, while a whole lot of kids race from house to house. Thema lives in a gated compound, so there are always lots of people around, but not like this. If it weren’t for the looks on the adults’ faces, this would be a party. Mom makes a beeline for Thema’s mom, who hugs her and says, “Are you holding up okay?”
Mom nods and seems about to reply, but then she glances around and notices me and says, “Astrid, go and find Thema.”
“Fine. Don’t tell me, then,” I mutter, but not loudly enough for them to hear.
Thema’s in her bedroom changing when I find her.
“Bring your bathing suit?” she asks.
I lift my shirt to show my bathing suit underneath. It’s an old one-piece covered in Canadian flags. I wish I had a pretty bikini like Thema’s orange-and-pink one, but Mom doesn’t believe in bikinis, so red-and-white maple leaves it is. I’m sweating like mad with the suit on under my clothes. When Thema’s ready, we run from her room and jump into the pool. Ebo’s already there, playing water polo with some other boys.
“Heads up,” he calls just before a polo ball smacks into the side of my head.
I wail as tears come to my eyes.
“Are you okay?” Thema and Ebo crowd around me. Ebo takes my arm and leads me to the side of the pool. Even with my head throbbing, I can feel every inch of his hand on my arm.
“You better get out for a minute,” he says.
“I’m okay,” I say, but I let Thema guide me to the shallow end, and we sit together on the steps until the throbbing subsides. Gordo and a bunch of younger kids cannonball into the pool. It’s not meant for this many people, and there’s hardly room to move. Every second or so, someone jostles me.
“How come there are so many people here?” I ask Thema.
“Dad called a meeting and told everyone from work to come tonight,” she says.
“Because of the man who tried to take over the government?” I ask.
“He said there are things to discuss.” Thema’s an amazing mimic, and she even looks like her dad as she tucks in her chin and wags her head like he does. I
laugh. I’m glad we’re here. Thema and Ebo seem relaxed, and being with them makes me feel better too.
Gordo cannonballs right into an older boy, and a splashing fight breaks out. Chlorine stings my eyes as the spray hits me in the face.
“Let’s go to your room,” I say to Thema.
“Okay,” she says.
In Thema’s room, we put on some Bee Gees and lie down on her bed.
“I’m going to turn it down,” she says. “If Mom hears it, she’ll come get us to set the table, and there are about forty people here.” She lowers the volume, then reaches under her bed. “Look what I got,” she says. She holds out a box. Inside, there’s sheet music for a whole pile of songs. Thema pulls out the music and reveals a row of Narnia books.
“Where’d you get those?” I ask.
“My cousin in London sent them,” she says. Thema is lucky to have a cousin in London to send her stuff. She helps Thema keep up with new music so she can be ready when the time comes to go to London to study. The only books my cousins send are Archie comics, which even Gordo can read in an afternoon.
“You can borrow some,” says Thema.
Each book is a gem waiting to be cracked open—like a geode. That’s what they’re called, the gems that you crack open. From the outside they look like normal rocks, but inside they have rows of glistening crystals. Books are like that too. Maybe I can start with The Silver Chair. I’ve read it before, but not for a while. I run my fingers back across the spines and pull The Silver Chair out of the box.
“This one?” I ask. Thema nods, but then, with a grin, she pulls three books out of the box to reveal a lower level.
“Look,” she says. There are more down there, including some I haven’t read before.
“Have you read these yet?” I ask. I long to take one, but I know it isn’t fair unless she’s already read them. She hands The Magician’s Nephew to me. It has that new-book smell. I hold it to my nose.
“What are you two doing?” Ebo’s voice comes from the doorway. My face flushes. Ebo must think my skin is the most peculiar shade of pink, because I blush every time I see him. I hold the book higher, to hide my face, and wish with all my heart that I’d get over him.
Thema moves over and Ebo sits down beside her on the bed. He hums to the music, then leans over and turns up the volume.
“Don’t,” says Thema. “We don’t want Mom to know we’re in here.” Ebo laughs and turns the volume up even higher, so the sound bounces off the walls.
“Ebo!” Thema shouts. She throws her pillow at him and beats him with her fists as he backs out of the room, laughing. I turn the volume down, but not before Thema’s mom appears in the doorway.
“There you are,” she says. “Come help with the table, please.” Thema sticks her tongue out at Ebo as we pass him in the hallway.
Mrs. Ampofo leads us to a courtyard behind the pool where there are several tables set up and lots of women bustling around. She hands us each a stack of plates and says, “Put as many on each table as you can,” then disappears into one of the neighboring houses.
My pile has yellow plates from Thema’s house and red ones that must be from another house in the compound. I place one red, one yellow, one red, one yellow around the table until it’s full. I end up with two yellow plates next to each other, so I pick one up again. Some boys run in circles around the table, getting in my way. I swat at them to move.
Mom comes outside with a tray of cutlery and a jug of water.
“What are you doing?” she asks me.
“Red, yellow, red, yellow. It doesn’t work,” I say.
She hands me the forks and says, “No one will notice tonight.”
She’s about to turn away, so I say, “Mom, what’s going on? Why did Mr. Ampofo invite us here? Dad said the man is in jail, so isn’t it all over?”
She doesn’t say anything, but the thin line of her lips is an answer in itself.
“Mom?”
“Stop bothering your mother,” I hear Dad say. I didn’t seen him coming.
“Dad, you tell me, then. What’s going on?”
Mom wipes at her eyes, and Dad says, “Leave it, Astrid. We can talk later.” He steers Mom away and leaves me standing with a handful of cutlery and no answers. Again.
Ebo and his friends are playing basketball outside the bedrooms. One of them throws the ball at us as we walk back to Thema’s room. Thema catches it and runs down the hallway with it in her hands. The boys run after her, shouting, so I back away and look for a quiet place to sit.My head throbs.
The living room is full of adults. Dad and Mom are there, and Mr. Ampofo, and lots of the other people who live in the compound. There isn’t enough seating for that many people, so some of the men sit on the floor. Mr. Ampofo is standing near the window, talking, and everyone is listening to him. They all turn and stare at me when I open the door.
Mr. Ampofo stops talking.
“Hi, honey,” says Dad. “We’re having a meeting. How about you leave us to it?”
“I was looking for somewhere quiet,” I say. Some of the men shift in their seats, but no one says anything.
“Dinner will be ready soon,” says Dad. “I’ll come and find you at the table, okay?” He asks it as a question, but it isn’t one, really, so I back out of the room and close the door. My eyes sting. Before today, Dad had never talked to me like that. Like I’m a little kid. But today it seems to be all he’s doing.
Ebo’s lying on Thema’s bed when I get back to her room. There’s no sign of anyone else.
“Hi,” he says, and for once I don’t blush.
“Hi,” I say.
“Are you okay?” He sits up and makes room for me on the bed.
I guess my face shows how frustrated I am. I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
“Let me guess. No one’s telling you anything, right?”
“Right,” I say. I sit down next to him.
“Welcome to the club,” he says.
“They say it’s all over, but then they won’t tell us anything, and now they’re in a meeting, being all secretive.”
He nods. It makes me feel better that he’s being treated the same way I am.
“Do you think…” My words falter. It’s strange talking to Ebo this way, but it’s a relief to be my real self with him.
“That we’re in danger?” He finishes my sentence.
I nod.
“I don’t know,” he says. He lies back down and stares at the ceiling.
I watch him breathe in and out, and then I say, “If it gets too dangerous, we can all leave, though, right?”
“Leave?” he says.
“You could go to London. We’d go back home.”
Without turning his face, he laughs. “My dad would never leave,” he says.
“How come?”
“We’re Ghanaian. We’d never leave.” He closes his eyes and hums, and I sit at the end of the bed, feeling like a total spaz. I wish that Thema would come in or the earth would swallow me.
Either one, but soon.
TEN
I wait and wait, but over the next few days, no one says anything more about the attempted coup—that’s what they call it when someone tries to take over the government. When I ask Dad about it, he looks at me sideways and waves his hand. “Don’t worry about it. It’s over.”
That makes me so mad. He never used to talk to me like that.
“But it could happen again, right? And if it did, what would we do?” I ask.
Dad stands in front of the mirror in his bedroom and combs his hair and straightens his shirt. “It won’t happen again, because the man who led the coup is in jail now, so what do you mean, what would we do?”
“I mean if it happens again, would we go back home?”
That makes him turn away from the mirror. “Do you want to go home? I thought you liked it here,” he says.
There’s no point. He isn’t listening to me. He hasn’t been for a while. Hasn’t he seen anythi
ng that’s going on in this family?
“Mom doesn’t.”
He sighs and turns back to the mirror. For a minute we both stare into the glass, our eyes catching each other’s in the reflection. Then he says, “Don’t worry about your mother, Astrid. We all have different ways of coping with things.”
“Yeah, hers is to treat us like prisoners,” I say.
“Not fair, Astrid. Not fair at all,” he says. He puts down his comb and walks out of the room without looking back at me even once. I sit on the edge of their bed and wait until I’m sure I’m not going to cry.
To avoid seeing Dad downstairs, I go outside to wait for Mom to drive us to school.
Thomas is working near the house. “Astrid, help me with this, will you?” he asks. He points to a clump of leaves growing up from the ground.
“There aren’t snakes or spiders hiding in there, are there?” I ask.
His whole face laughs, like that’s the funniest question anyone ever asked him, and he says, “No, I need to tie them back, that’s all.”
I wrap the ball of string he hands me around one side of the clump, then reach around so he can take it from me and gather the other side in. As he ties off the string, I say, “Thomas, did you hear about the guy who tried to take over the government last week?”
“I did, Astrid.”
“And…” I’m not sure what I want to ask him. There’s something strange going on. Dad says the man’s in jail, so there’s nothing to worry about, but if that’s true, then why is everyone being so secretive and serious about it?
Thomas looks up from his knotting and says, “And?”
I shrug. “I’m not sure.”
“I’m not sure either,” he says.
“But it won’t happen again—that’s what my dad says.”
Thomas nods, then says, “Maybe not.”
I want to ask him what he means by maybe, but Mom and Gordo come outside, and Mom says, “Hurry, Astrid, we’re going to be late,” and anyway, Thomas is already reaching around a smaller clump of leaves like he’s forgotten we were talking.
