Diamonds in the Shadow

  Then Mrs. Finch and Andre were gone, and it was Jared shouting. Did everybody have their book bag? We're late, Mattu! You didn't finish your toast, Mopsy. Carry it with you! Alake, put Jopsy in the kitchen and close the door.

  The night before, Tay had telephoned Jared. Jared had yelled across the entire house to relay Tay's information to his mother. “Tay's mom is getting the puppy in the morning,” bellowed Jared. “She says leave one of the garage doors up and put the puppy in the kitchen and don't lock the side door, and she'll go in through the garage and get the puppy.”

  Alake was shattered. Mrs. Finch said, “Say good-bye to Jopsy tonight, Alake. I'm sorry this has to happen, but you've had the puppy such a short time that you won't really miss him. Be my brave girl now.”

  I don't want to be brave. I want to have Jopsy. And you can love with all your heart even if you've only had your puppy a short time.

  Alake had prayed all night long. Let me keep Jopsy, even though I couldn't keep my family or my home or my village or my two teachers or my sister. Please, God.

  But here it was Monday morning, and the side door leading from the garage to the kitchen was unlocked and one of the big automatic garage doors was up. Sometime today, Tay's mother would drive into the driveway. She would go into the house, tuck Jopsy under her arm, turn the little knob in the handle to make the side door lock behind her and put Jopsy into her car. She would press the button inside the garage and quickly hop away before the huge heavy door lowered on her, and then she would drive off, leaving an empty house.

  And for Alake, an empty heart.

  Even Jesus had to walk his lonesome valley by himself. What was this lonesome valley? Was Alake already there? Was it life? Was it America?

  “Alake,” said Jared, “we're late. Go down the hill with Mopsy.”

  Alake was holding Jopsy tightly, but not tightly enough. Jared took her puppy away. Jopsy was going to be alone in this house. Nobody wants to be left alone, even puppies, Alake thought.

  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.

  Mattu's heart had not pounded like this since he had run from a machete blade.

  Victor.

  Here.

  Driving the car that had passed the school bus.

  Mattu tried to focus on the high school, the wide halls decorated with banners and art-class projects and retired team jerseys, filled with fat and happy kids, all laughing and talking and yelling and running and so full of themselves—was there ever a people so full of themselves!

  It wasn't Victor, he told himself.

  But it was Victor.

  I wanted to be safe and believe I had a solution and I could make everything all right and the bad things would go away. I'm as childish as Mopsy—I, who know evil.

  He had to tell somebody in authority that Victor was here.

  But nobody would believe him. This town did not have people like Victor, and nobody here really believed in evil or that evil people routinely did evil things. They would say, No, no, Mattu, that was in Africa. This is here.

  But they wouldn't really believe that it happened in Africa either.

  If it was Victor in that car, the only possible outcome was violence. Mattu would be responsible for not having told the authorities. They would send Mattu back to Africa and the refugee camp. He would never have the new high school called Free and the new apartment with Andre and Celestine and would never be the driver of their own car.

  But realistically, who could Mattu tell?

  The friendly middle-aged officer whose beat was the high school? The fat old guy whose patrol car was generally parked near one of the three red lights? They didn't know any more about real trouble than the Finches.

  Then Mattu realized why Celestine had been so fierce when she had insisted that if Victor tried to follow Mattu, Mattu must never come back. It wasn't to save herself, or Andre.

  It was to save the Finches.

  The American family was far more at risk than the Africans. When you wanted to terrify or harm people—which was all Victor did—you started with the weak. Americans knew nothing of pain or fear. They were not strong like Mattu and Andre and Celestine. They could not withstand what Victor threw at them.

  Victor would know this.

  The father would not get home till late this evening, so the person whose job it was to defend the family was not here to do it. But even if Mr. Finch were here—or if something horrible took place so that Victor waited for him—Victor would not go after the father. He would go after the father's weakness.

  Usually that would be the children. But Mattu thought the weakest one in this family was the mother, Kara. The one who believed she could control everything and handle any problem. Kara did not know how to handle a Victor.

  But a Victor could always handle a Kara.

  Mattu thanked God that Kara Finch and Andre had taken their long drive to the distant city.

  Alake was the unknown. Body and soul, Alake was stretching toward being an ordinary person. She could never do it, not with her past. Alake's weakness would be her puppy.

  But of course, Victor had not come to kill the Finches, find Alake or deal with puppies. He had come for his diamonds.

  The timing could not have been worse.

  It's all right for the moment, thought Mattu. The house is empty. I can telephone everybody in the family and tell them to stay away. Then somehow I'll explain to the police who and what Victor is.

  Mattu was ill with the list of things he had done wrong. “Jared,” he whispered.

  “Not now, okay? I didn't finish my calculus.”

  Mattu tugged on his sleeve. “This is more important.”

  Jared shook him off. “Not to me,” he said irritably, walking away.

  ALAKE WAS HALFWAY UP PROSPECT HILL when she heard a car behind her. There were so few houses up here that every driver would recognize her and know that she ought to be in school. Alake veered behind the wide, dark branches of a massive hemlock. She hoped it wasn't Tay's mother. As soon as the car passed, she raced on up the hill, legs trembling, lungs weakening.

  The car did pull into the Finches' driveway. It was a beautiful car, long and sleek, with none of the filth from snow and road salt that usually coated cars here. How could she solve this? Couldn't God have given her even ten minutes to—

  The driver of the shiny car stepped out.

  For days now, maybe weeks, Alake had forgotten. Even in her terrible dreams and even in the constant memories in which Victor starred, Alake had forgotten that Victor was alive and in America.

  How amazing that his sponsors had given him such a fine vehicle.

  Alake caught herself. She was turning into Mopsy. Nobody had given that car to Victor.

  The garage door was still open, so Tay's mother had not gotten here after all. But the empty open garage shouted that no one was home. Victor surveyed the house for a moment. He did not look behind him, which was good, because Alake was out on the road, entirely visible, and had nowhere to retreat. Victor walked swiftly into the shadows of the open garage. Alake dropped to a crouch and scuttled behind a small leafless bush. Victor's hand would be reaching toward the unlocked kitchen door. On the other side, he would find Jopsy. Victor and Alake did not come from a part of the world where dogs were loved. A dog was something to kick or kill.

  Alake had failed to keep her sister safe, and her teachers, and her parents, and everybody else on this earth. She still had a chance to keep her puppy safe.

  Victor wanted his diamonds and Alake knew where they were. In exchange for the diamonds, would Victor drive Alake and Jopsy to New York? Because New York was where he had to go; it was where the diamond buyers were. Would he agree to let Alake out somewhere in that vast city and then drive on, never to cross her path again? She knew Victor. He would promise anything and shoot anyway.

  The puppy had already learned that when a door opened (as it always did, if you waited long enough), speed was crucial to avoid capture. Victor must have opened the door, because Jopsy hurtled out of the garage and scrabbled on the frozen ground. How excited he was from his successful escape and the fresh air!

  Keep running! Alake thought at him.

  And of course, he did. Following his nose, Jopsy kept running right to Alake. And when he found her, he barked for joy.

  Wow, did Tay's mother drive a nice car! Mopsy was impressed. And Mopsy's timing was pretty good—maybe she could negotiate puppy-visiting rights. Did the church volunteer exist who would haul Alake back and forth to see a dog?

  Mopsy crossed the cement floor of the garage, silent in her thick-soled sneakers, and walked into the kitchen.

  A man was holding Alake by her face, his fingers gripping her chin and mouth and nose as if Alake were a football. In his other hand he held a gun.

  Mopsy had never seen a gun except on television.

  The man threw Alake away like a piece of
firewood. She hit the wall so hard that the watercolor hanging there fell off its nail. The glass over the painting smashed, and shards scattered all over Alake and the floor.

  The man smiled.

  Now Mopsy knew what the Amabos had been afraid of, why they dreaded the sound of a door opening or a phone ringing. This person.

  The puppy whined for attention.

  The man aimed a kick, but Alake intercepted and took the kick. The kick made a sound, or perhaps Alake's ribs made the sound. But Alake remained silent. She scooped Jopsy into her arms and rolled away.

  “It's okay,” said Mopsy quickly. “He's just a puppy. He can't hurt you.”

  The man faced her. He clicked his gun in a way that did not cause it to shoot but made it even more frightening. Mopsy iced over. She couldn't think through the frigid fear.

  “Where is Mattu?” The man's accent was thick and draggy, like Celestine's and Andre's.

  “He's at school,” said Mopsy. She forced a thought out of her paralyzed brain. “You want the diamonds, don't you?”

  He and the open hole of his gun stared at her. “You know about the diamonds?”

  “Mattu doesn't know that I know. I was peeking in his boxes.”

  “Show me.”

  Alake will run away the minute we head upstairs, thought Mopsy, so she'll be safe. Once he's counting his diamonds, I'll race downstairs too. As soon as I'm outside, I'll dig out my cell phone and call 911.

  The man gestured to her to go first. When she walked by, he yanked off the backpack that held her cell phone and flung it across the room. He nodded an order at Alake, who fell in line behind Mopsy so that they formed a little parade—Mopsy first, then Alake and the puppy and then the man.

  The treads seemed high. The carpet felt rough. Her sneakers snagged and she stumbled. It took forever to reach Jared's room. Her brother's side was messy. Mattu's side was beautifully arranged, so he could gaze upon his new possessions in rows and pairs.

  On the dormer shelf sat the two Tupperware containers.