Serafina's Promise Read online

  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,

  Gregory grows

  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