Diamonds in the Shadow (26 page)

Especially puppies.

Jared set Jopsy on the kitchen floor. The puppy galloped back to Alake. Gently, Jared shoveled the puppy backward into the kitchen with his huge sneaker and closed the door.

Mattu was in a great mood. He had solved everything. How lucky that he had listened so closely whenever Mrs. Finch taught them something.

That was the great thing about America. Solutions.

In Africa, nobody had a solution to the problems of war and famine and AIDS and drought and mosquitoes and orphans— or if they did, they didn't have the money or the time or the allies to make it work. But in America, as Mrs. Finch demonstrated every day, there was always a solution. Mattu felt so American, so in control. He settled comfortably on the school bus seat. “I meant to ask, Jared. When Erik wasn't in class last week and the teacher got so mad, what was actually happening?”

“Erik skipped. He just didn't feel like school, so he didn't show up. He got in trouble.”

“What happened to him?”

“Detention.”

Mattu had not known about this aspect of America. “They detained him in a prison camp?”

“No,” said Jared, as if any idiot ought to know the meaning of the word “detention.” “Erik's on the basketball team, so his punishment is missing practice. For a few days after school he has to sit in the principal's office instead. The whole team hates him now.”

Where Mattu came from, punishment was chopping off an arm. He looked out the window of the bus, smiling. This was a great country.

Right after the high school bus left with Alake, Mattu and Jared, the middle school bus arrived at the bottom of Prospect Hill. The middle school wasn't very far. In spring and fall, Mopsy often walked home. But never in her life had she been ready early enough in the morning to walk
to
school.

If I were Alake, thought Mopsy, I'd be kicking and screaming. I should have done that for her. I should have told Kirk Crick where to go. I should have said the puppy is not negotiable.

She was quite proud of this vision of herself talking back to the refugee supervisor.

A few months ago, I would never have thought of telling somebody where to go. I am maturing.

It was time to be called Martha. No more fooling around. She was going to enforce it this time. She'd start with Quinnie.

Mopsy vaulted into her bus, full of plans for acting adult. Nothing could stop her now. She forgot Alake.

Jared and Mattu were sitting in the back of the bus, where boys always sat, making noise and trouble, while Alake sat in the front, all alone. Nobody else liked being close to the driver, who listened in, and anyway, Alake was not company.

A school bus going in the opposite direction stopped to pick up kids on the other side of the road. All traffic stopped, including Alake's bus.

It was Alake's favorite part of the ride—the obedience of American cars to school buses. All these drivers were exactly like Drew and Kara Finch. They were in a hurry! They had lists! Everything mattered! They must be on time! But never never never would they pass a school bus.

The children climbed onto their bus, waving good-bye to mothers who were waiting with them. Then the mothers waved, the bus driver waved, the safety bar popped back in place and the two buses moved in their opposite directions. It was like television America. But it was real. Happy children, happy moms, happy day at school.

And then there was Alake.

She glimpsed a dog on a leash, which had been hidden by all those people. The mother smiled down at her dog and the dog
wagged its tail and the two of them raced up a driveway, the mother laughing and the dog barking.

The high school bus ground to its final stop.

Because he was so tall and because he was sitting by the window, Mattu had a good view of the road. A car coming toward them was not slowing down for the flickering lights all over the bus. It did not obey the stop sign that popped out of the side of the bus. It just kept going. Mattu had never seen a car break this crucial American rule.

He peered down to see what kind of person was driving that lawbreaking car.

One mile past Mopsy's school, Alake's bus stopped at the high school. It was too raw and cold to be leisurely. The kids spurted out of the bus and hurried into the warmth, shouting and laughing, name-calling and showing off, noticing only themselves.

Alake was alone, surrounded by ugly piles of snow shoved off the road by the plows. The once-beautiful snow was black now from car exhaust and sand.

Alake had no books in her backpack. She had dry dog food and a bag of sandwich bread, her Social Security card and a map. She had the timetable for the train to New York, whose station was only four
miles away. She had the cash she had stolen from Celestine to use until she could figure out how to use the diamonds.

Alake pulled her hood over her head and her mittens onto her hands. She kept her face down. She was as invisible as a black girl in a white town could be. As soon as a hedge was between her and any peering high school eyes, she broke into a run. She did not know how soon Tay's mother would arrive. Alake would get the puppy and then lock the kitchen door and the garage behind her. Tay's mother would think that Mrs. Finch had forgotten to leave the house open, and she would not call Mrs. Finch to report it, and Alake would have all day. As for Mrs. Finch, she was not coming back till late from the place called Boston.

Mopsy did not go into the school building. She stood in the bitter wind.

I forgot Alake. I didn't comfort her about Jopsy. Mom didn't remember either, because she has so much else to do. I didn't tell Jared to watch out for Alake. What good things are in her life now? thought Mopsy. She has to leave our house and Celestine hasn't ever hugged her. Not once.

The horror of it struck Mopsy forcibly. Alake had to live with people who did not like her.

Mopsy could e-mail Alake, but Alake didn't usually check the computer until she had free time at lunch. And how much comfort was an e-mail, when you got right down to it? Mopsy could
phone Jared and tell him to put Alake on. But what good would it do Alake to hear Mopsy's voice? Alake didn't care about voices.

Mopsy wavered.

It was only a mile. She could walk over to the high school— and do what? Say what? In the end, Kirk Crick was right. Alake must swim by herself.

Incredibly, beyond the softball diamond, Mopsy saw Alake running down the sidewalk. Long thin legs pumping. Book bag solid on her back. Heading home.

Mopsy's heart broke. Alake was going to get Jopsy. But then what would she do? Talk Tay's mother out of taking the puppy back? Never happen. Bring the puppy to school? Wouldn't work.

Alake's only choice, really, was to run away.

Mopsy was so not a person who did things without permission. The office would not give her permission to go after Alake. Mom and Dad wouldn't either, if they were around.

But the only thing worse than Alake silent and unloved would be Alake silent and unloved and on the run.

Mopsy didn't have Alake's speed. Twenty steps of running and she was sick of it, so she walked a block. And then another. And another. She gazed up Prospect Hill. When she had a home of her own, it would be in a flat place.