I step inside our house
with my lantern behind my back.
Manman is bouncing Gregrory
in her arms
while Gogo stirs a cup of tea.
Gregory is crying.
I hide my lantern beneath the table
and place my crèche on the floor.
I’ll make him smile, I say.
I take Gregory into my arms
and rock him
while I take a peek at his rash.
It isn’t any better,
but it isn’t worse either.
I sing my big sister song,
but he only cries more.
Manman dips a cloth into the tea
and puts it in Gregory’s mouth.
Shhhhh. Shhhhh, she coos.
Finally Gregory stops crying
and falls asleep.
Manman’s eyes are soft and sad.
Don’t worry, I say.
Look how round and full
his stomach is.
At least he’s not hungry!
Manman smiles at me
and I remember my surprise.
Close your eyes, Manman!
I have a present for you.
Carefully, so as not to wake him,
I hand Gregory to Gogo.
Quietly I pull out my lantern,
then hold it up for Manman.
Okay, Manman,
open your eyes!
It’s beautiful, Serafina,
she says.
Her voice is full of warmth
and love,
but her eyes are misty
and sad.
I hurry through my chores.
Papa has promised
that after dinner
we’ll decorate
our Christmas branch.
Mr. Pétion and some people in the city
have grand trees, strung
with lights and sparkling ornaments,
but our simple Christmas branch
will be just as special.
The last time she was in the city,
Gogo brought back pretty red berries—
some to eat and some to string
on our branch.
And Manman surprised us
by borrowing colorful buttons
from an old dress
and threading them for us to hang.
While I wait for Papa,
I gather a few sprigs
of white basil flowers
to tuck inside the branches.
This year, we even have our own nativity!
Still, a tiny sadness tugs at my heart.
I wish Gregory’s rash would go away.
I wish my friends were here to eat,
sing, and celebrate with us.
Christmas Eve passes
with music, joy,
and my twinkling lantern light.
On Christmas Day,
my belly is so stuffed
with chicken stew
that I know I’ll never
be hungry again.
Banza visits me in the garden,
and when I’m sure no one is looking,
I give him a small piece of chicken
that I have tucked in the hem
of my dress.
Jwaye Nwèl, I whisper.
All day, we sing Christmas carols
and Papa tells stories
of when he was a little boy.
I promise that next year
we’ll travel to visit Granmè
and Uncle Tomas.
Uncle Tomas tells the best stories!
Gogo and I are still
singing at night when
we wash the dishes,
but Manman is quiet.
Gregory hasn’t made any of his
usual peeps and coos.
He keeps his eyes closed
and hardly eats anything.
Before I go to bed,
Manman lets me
take Gregory outside.
The moon is only half bright,
but dozens of stars
twinkle in the darkness.
We had a happy Christmas,
didn’t we, Gregory? I whisper.
Next year you’ll meet
Granmè and Uncle Tomas.
They live in Jacmel, far from here.
I only met them a few times,
but I love them. You will too.
Papa is right.
Uncle Tomas tells the best stories.
Gregory stirs and flutters his eyes.
His lips curve into a small smile.
And then he coughs.
I pat his back and walk him around the house.
Do you see the moon and the stars?
The world is such a beautiful place.
I kiss him softly.
Stay with us, Gregory. Please stay.
There are so many things
I want to teach you.
Please don’t leave me, Gregory.
Your big sister loves you,
I start to sing,
but the words get caught
in my throat.
The week after Christmas,
more and more quiet.
His rash is deeper
and darker.
Gogo and I make another paste
from water and aloe.
It soothes him a little,
but he still seems frail.
On January first, we celebrate
the New Year
and Haiti’s Independence Day.
At church, I clap my hands,
raise my arms, and pray for
Gregory’s rash to heal.
I promise God
to never ask for another thing
if only Gregory can get better.
When we go home,
we celebrate with pumpkin soup.
I tell Manman, Papa, and Gogo
what Monsieur Leblanc
explained to our class.
Once there were laws that said
only the French could have soup
because they were the ruling class.
But that wasn’t fair.
There were lots of laws that
weren’t fair,
so the slaves revolted.
And now, to celebrate,
everybody eats soup.
Papa looks at Manman
and they both smile.
Did you know that Haiti
was the first black republic?
I ask.
Do you know what that means?
That means Granpè
would be proud of you,
Gogo says.
Wi, Manman says.
Granpè would be proud!
Happiness flutters
inside me
and I feel my face
blush with pride.
After the holidays,
everyone seems happy
to be back at school.
Terèz tells us
about her trip to Jacmel,
and Romare tells us
about a new jump rope
she got from Papa Noel.
I can’t believe it.
Even Nadia never got a visit
from Papa Noel!
Every time I think of Nadia,
I feel a twinge in my stomach.
I thought she had everything
I wanted.
But now she doesn’t have a mother.
I don’t even know
if she has a home.
Now I have everything.
I wish I could tell her
how sorry I am
that I was jealous.
You look so serious!
Jean-Pierre says.
He smiles.
Wait till you see
the new house I’m building
for my lizard.
Did his tail grow back? I ask.
Not yet, he says, grinnin
g.
But it will.
Little by little, it will.
The bell rings and we form
our line to go inside.
I wish I could always be cheerful
like Jean-Pierre,
but I can’t stop wondering
about Nadia.
I can’t stop worrying
about Gregory.
What if he doesn’t get better?
My notebook
is beginning to fill
with French words and phrases.
Sometimes I even think
in French.
For some reason,
that makes me sad.
I don’t think
knowing French
makes me smarter.
It just means
I know French.
If I were really smarter,
I’d figure out a way
to help Gregory.
The first week
after vacation drags on.
Every day, Monsieur Leblanc
TAP TAP TAPs.
Every day, I worry about Gregory
and hurry home after school,
hoping to find him better.
But every day, he seems the same,
quiet and fragile as a feather.
At night when we wash dishes,
I ask Gogo why we don’t take
Gregory to the clinic.
The coin jar is empty, she says.
Red berries, chicken,
and the clinic must wait.
I go to bed early but don’t sleep.
It’s my fault the coin jar is empty.
It isn’t just red berries and chicken.
Every month, we need more coins
to pay for school.
My selfishness
is making Gregory sick.
Monsieur Leblanc
taps the board with his pencil.
Les nuages noirs apportent la pluie.
Black clouds bring rain.
He taps and taps.
Les nuages noirs apportent la pluie.
Les nuages noirs apportent la pluie,
we repeat.
Why am I in school?
I would rather learn
from birds and crickets
than the TAP TAP TAP
of Monsieur Leblanc’s pencil.
How will words about weather
help me become a doctor?
How will they help Gregory?
I would rather listen
to Gogo explain
how basil draws the poison
from a bee sting,
or how mint stops the swaying
in a sick stomach.
I would rather
have Antoinette Solaine
show me how to use
the shiny tools
in her black bag.
LES NUAGES NOIRS APPORTENT—
Suddenly Monsieur Leblanc
stands over me.
He taps my table
and looks at me
with sharp eyes.
LA PLUIE.
I love you, I whisper to Gregory
before I leave for school the next day.
All the way to school,
I think about the empty coin jar.
While I lean against the mango tree
to put on my shoes and socks,
I gaze at the road ahead.
I think that if I turned left
instead of right,
I could follow the path
that leads to the clinic
where we took Baby Pierre.
It was a long time ago,
but I remember
the giant mango tree.
It looked just like this one.
I think I would remember the way.
I could find Antoinette Solaine
and she could help
heal Gregory’s rash.
I could promise to pay her
with peppermint coins.
Maybe she could teach me
to be a doctor like her.
I could listen
to tiny hearts beating,
instead of the TAP TAP TAP
of Monsieur Leblanc’s pencil.
I could learn about medicine
that comes in bottles and tubes,
not just the kind
that grows in our garden.
I could learn how to help people
instead of wasting time
learning silly French words.
From down the hillside,
voices wake me from my daydream—
For our country, for our forefathers—
I’m late!
I tag on the end of the line
and take the only space left,
on the edge of the last bench,
beside Jean-Pierre.
Yesterday’s lesson
is still on the board.
Les nuages noirs apportent la pluie.
Black clouds bring rain.
You’re late!
Jean-Pierre whispers.
I know! I say.
We sit so close
I smell his sweat
and hear his stomach
grumble.
After school, I climb the hill
with Jean-Pierre.
At the mango tree,
we take off our shoes and socks.
Jean-Pierre walks one way.
I walk the other.
See you tomorrow!
he says.
Above me,
a cloud of black crows
cackles and caws.
In the distance,
a dog howls.
Pa pèdi tan!
Manman always says.
But this one time,
chores can wait.
Besides, if I hurry,
Manman will never know.
I am pretty sure
Antoinette Solaine’s clinic
is just down this road.
I’m glad she’ll see me
in my uniform.
I’m going to be a doctor
just like you, I’ll say.
She’ll smile
and maybe she’ll ask me
to stay and learn from her.
I’ll promise to come back
when I finish my chores.
I’ll run all the way home
and not even be late.
I’ll tell Manman
that Antoinette Solaine
wants me to be her assistant.
I’ll give her the doctor medicine
that Antoinette Solaine says
will cure Gregory.
Where did you see
Antoinette Solaine?
Manman will ask,
smiling and taking
the shiny tube.
She came to my school, I’ll say.
She remembered me.
Gogo says that people who lie
are like the whiteflies
that spread poison
in the garden.
People who lie
destroy
everything good
and beautiful.
But Gogo and Manman
don’t know everything.
Besides, it will only be
a little lie.
The important thing
is that it will help Gregory.
The road winds and turns
in ways I don’t recognize.
Maybe the clinic
is farther
than I remember.
The last time we came,
we were traveling
from a different direction.
Maybe the clinic
is on the other side
of the mountain.
A swarm of whiteflies
flutters in my stomach.
It was a long time ago.
I was only little.
Maybe it was a different
mango tree.
Everyt
hing is quiet now.
The crows. The dog.
Everything is silent.
Maybe it was
a different mountain.
Suddenly I recognize
the scent of mangoes,
oranges, and wild thyme.
The grass is speckled
with tiny pink flowers.
Haiti’s piece of heaven,
Manman said.
I’m back on the road
that leads to the city!
How did I get here?
Now it will take me
forever to get home.
What will I tell Manman?
From nowhere,
crinkling waves
of dry rain
shudder and roll.
Under the earth,
a roaring stampede
rumbles and rushes.
Louder, closer,
LOUDERCLOSER
LOUDERCLOSER
LOU—
A thunderous roar
shatters the sky.
The earth pops, crackles,
and trembles beneath my feet.
A quivering wave
passes through my body.
Manman! I call. Manman!
A furious growl
bellows in my ears.
The sky shudders.
The earth shakes.
Manman! I scream and fall
into the trembling grass.
Around me,
trees sway angrily.
The mountains
heave and moan.
In the sky,
the sun falls
and bounces back.
The earth crumples,
and rolls me
inside its shaking fist.
Moments later,
the trembling stops.
I open my eyes
and lift my head
to a blur
of brown and green.
How long have I been
lying in the grass?
I try to stand,
but a furious roar
still fills my ears.
My stomach sways.
I fall.
Manman! I call again.
But Manman
is far from me.
My mouth fills
with dirt and dust.
Words disappear
inside me.
I close my eyes.
Again, the earth
rocks and trembles.
I clutch the grass
and tense my body.
My ears pound.
My bones throb.
And then,
every
thing
stops.
I stand up,
smooth out
my pretty green dress,
and find
my water bucket
propped beneath
the mango tree
ripe with yellow fruit.
Serafina! Serafina!
Gogo calls.
Serafina, come!
I follow her voice