Is close to sunset, Sunday, the day of rest, soon going be over. I see James as him coming up along the path through the slave village. Watch as him getting closer. Notice he is rounding out, getting taller. Him have copper skin like me, but just like Massa, him eye them the colour of young caneleaves and him hair curly not so raggedy like mine. He is what Massa call handsome and him have a way bout him. A gentle way, a kind way. Make people turn to him. Befriend him. Not like me. When people look pon me, they move a step back. Calla tell me is because I have a stern heart. A heart that hope for the best, but only see the worst.

After we fix up the traps, me and James going crab hunting, set off to the woods cross the edge of the plantation. We don’t have long to wait before the moon start to rise, so we can put out the torches, save them for the long walk back. As we walking I notice James turn quiet, hang him head down, look pon him feet. I learn is best to not say much, wait till him ready to speak, so I just enjoy the freedom of walking at night. Feel the cool breeze on me skin. Wait for the peenie wallies to start coming round, flickering them soft light. Smell the big white blooms of the moonflower vine as they release them sweet scent into the air of the night.

Finally James turn to me and ask, ‘You ever tink bout turning runaway?’

Of course I think bout it, plenty times, but me don’t want to tell James that. Don’t want to see him try it, get caught, get whipped. Get branded runaway, if Massa mad enough.

‘Even if me think bout it, me never going do it,’ hoping him believe me. ‘Would cause too much trouble for all of you.’

I look at James, notice him still dragging him feet. He is still a boy waiting to be a man. Must be some big thing happen for a pickney like him to think bout runaway.

‘Why you think bout that?’ I ask. Watch as him struggle to tell me.

‘Massa catch me.’

‘Catch you? Catch you doing what?’

‘Catch me drawing.’

‘Him give you a good beating?’

‘No,’ James say. ‘Him just take away the paper. Look pon it. Look pon it a long time.’

‘Tell you him going beat you, if him catch you doing it again?’

‘No. Him say nothing. Turn him back and walk away.’

Is one strange business, this. I stop walking. Look him in the eyes like Stella, like Calla, done to me.

‘Promise me, James. No more drawing business.’

‘Why I must stop drawing? Why?’

‘Don’t act stupid!’ grabbing him by the shoulders. ‘Drawing not meant for the likes of you and me.’