Chapter 2: Held Together

The guard walked away. Everyone remained silent until he reached the fence. Jabari wiped mud from his face.

“Twenty extra bricks?” Jabari shouted.

Kamau turned toward him. “You chose to skate on the clay.”

“It looked easier before I tried it.”

“Most foolish ideas do.”

Jabari groaned as he returned to work. “I liked the camouflage explanation better.”

“It almost worked,” Lumani said.

“No,” Kamau replied. “It created enough confusion for something sensible to work.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon repairing the damaged bricks, and by the evening horn, they had completed their work and went back to their sheds.

Inside, Mama Leki stood behind the cooking pot with a wooden spoon in one hand.

“Bowls,” she said.

They all formed a line. Kofi reached the front first. He held out his bowl and watched the spoon carefully.

“That is not enough,” he said.

“That is what it is,” Mama Leki replied.

“Can you check the bottom?”

“I have been checking the bottom a long time,” she said, smiling.

She poured in another small spoonful when she thought he was not looking. Kofi saw it. He smiled and said nothing.

Lumani stepped forward next. Mama Leki studied his face before filling his bowl.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“That answer has become very popular tonight.”

“You must be hungry,” Lumani said, glancing at the thin stew left in the pot.

“I am fine,” she said, not looking up.

“That is what people say right before they admit they already ate while cooking.”

Mama Leki’s spoon paused in the air.

“You are far too clever for a boy covered in mud,” she said.

“So I am right.”

“Eat your food before I decide you are too clever to feed.”

Lumani grinned and let it go.

Mama Leki looked past him. Jabari was trying to hide his limp.

“Mud!” Mama Leki called.

Jabari stopped. “That is not my name.”

“It is tonight. Come here.”

Ayo moved aside to let him through. Jabari limped toward the pot.

Mama Leki pointed at the floor beside her. “Sit.”

“I am hungry.”

“You can eat while I decide whether your foot is still attached.”

“It is attached.”

“Then sitting should be easy.”

Jabari sat. Mama Leki lifted the edge of his trouser leg. His ankle was swollen, and a long scrape ran across his arm.

Her eyes moved to Lumani. “What happened?”

“He invented mud-skating,” Lumani said.

Mama Leki closed her eyes for a moment. “Of course he did.”

“It worked at first,” Jabari said.

“Most foolish ideas do,” Ayo replied, giving Kamau’s line a quiet nod of agreement.

Mama Leki took a small cloth packet from inside her clothes. A few grains of salt rested inside.

Jabari leaned away. “Is that going to hurt?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Can you lie to me?”

“No.”

She pressed the salt against his scrape. Jabari sucked air through his teeth.

“Keep this dry,” Mama Leki said.

“We work in mud,” Jabari replied.

“Then try walking instead of swimming in it.”

A fist struck the outside of the door.

“Quiet in there!” a guard shouted.

Every voice went silent. Mama Leki returned the salt packet to its hiding place and picked up her spoon.

“Eat,” she said quietly.

Mama Leki filled the remaining bowls. She knew who needed more without asking. Jabari received less than usual.

He looked inside it. “Is this my punishment?”

“No. Your punishment was twenty extra bricks.”

“How did you know about that?”

Mama Leki gave him a long look. “I know everything that enters this shed.”

Kamau appeared in the doorway. Dust covered his clothes, and his hands were gray from stone and clay.

Mama Leki glanced at him. “Twenty bricks?”

“Twenty bricks.”

“Jabari?”

“Jabari.”

She nodded as if the mystery had been solved.

Kamau washed his hands with the small amount of water beside the door. When he sat, Mama Leki handed him the final bowl. He looked into it. Then he looked at her empty hands.

“Where is yours?”

“I ate.”

“No, you did not.”

Lumani smiled into his bowl.

Mama Leki noticed. “You stay out of this.”

“I did not say anything.”

“Your face did.”

Kamau broke his piece of root bread into three parts. He placed one in Mama Leki’s hand, passed one to Jabari, and kept the smallest for himself. Mama Leki looked at her piece. They ate together.

After a while, she said, “I heard there was trouble with a guard.”

Lumani stopped chewing. “Who told you?”

“No one needed to,” she said.

Lumani looked at Kamau. “He was going to whip Jabari.”

“So you placed yourself beneath the whip instead,” Kamau said.

“I distracted him.”

“You made jokes.”

“They were good jokes.”

“That is not the same thing.”

Jabari lifted his bowl. “They were very good.”

Mama Leki silenced him with a glance. Then she looked back at Lumani.

“You have a good heart, Lumani,” she said. “But a good heart can still get you hurt.”

Lumani lowered his eyes. “I could not stand there and do nothing.”

“I am not asking you to do nothing.” Her voice softened. “I am asking you to come back through that door every night.”

Lumani looked at her. “I’ll be more careful.”

“Be more than careful. Be smart.”

Kamau nodded. “He will learn.”

Mama Leki looked at him. “He learned the jokes from you.”

“I have never made a joke in my life.”

“That was almost one.”

Kamau’s mouth moved slightly.

Mama Leki and Ayo rose and collected the empty bowls to clean them.

Kamau was sitting near the door, and Lumani joined him.

For a while, Kamau said nothing, then he opened his hand. The pebble Jabari had thrown that morning lay in his palm.

“You kept it?” Lumani asked.

“I picked it up before the guards marched us outside.”

Kamau turned the pebble between his fingers.

“You caught it without looking.”

“It was luck.”

“No,” Kamau said.

Lumani glanced toward Mama Leki and Ayo; they were still cleaning the bowls.

“Did anyone else see?”

“Jabari saw. Ayo may have.”

“What about the guards?”

“I do not think so.”

Lumani released his breath.

Kamau placed the pebble in his hand.

“Tell me what happened when Jabari threw it at you.”

“I don’t know.”

“Try.”

Lumani closed his fingers around it.

“I heard Jabari throw it.”

“You were facing away from him,” Kamau said.

“I did not hear it with my ears.” Lumani struggled to explain. “I felt it coming.”

Kamau became very still.

“What does it mean?” Lumani asked.

“I do not know yet.”

“You do.”

Kamau looked toward the door.

“Knowing part of the truth can be more dangerous than knowing nothing.”

“That sounds like something people say when they do not want to answer,” Lumani said.

“It is.”

Lumani frowned.

Kamau placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I am not asking you to be afraid of what happened. I am asking you to hide it until we understand it.”

“What if it happens again?”

“Then you come to me.”