Mercedes continues the story. “The people threw ashes on Tima’s face to keep her from escaping.” I switch off all the lights for an instant. The whole room is silent, waiting to find out what happens next. What happens to Tima. This is my favorite part of the story. When something bad turns into something good.

Mercedes continues. “But even the ashes on her face couldn’t keep her from shining. She followed her brother into the sky. And became the moon.” I switch the lights back on and pull the cardboard lever for the moon. “And now the moon and the sun watch over the people of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta.”

Our classmates applaud. November whoops. I feel all the way proud now. Mercedes is smiling. She doesn’t look embarrassed to be seen with me. She looks proud, too.

But then Mrs. Ellingham clears her throat. “This is lovely, girls, but it isn’t a myth I’ve ever heard of. You were supposed to do a Greek myth. You chose Selene. Did you make up this story? You can’t just make up a myth. That’s not how it works.”

“Mrs. Ellingham,” I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “The story of Tima and Yuí is a myth from the Arhuaco people. The Arhuaco are, um, Native Americans, in Colombia. In South America. We didn’t make it up. Honest. We learned about it in this book. This book written by a famous Colombian archaeologist—”

“Anthropologist,” Mercedes interrupts. I’ll never get that straight. “A famous Colombian anthropologist named Francisco Gómez Flores. He’s our dad.”

My heart has slowed down to a normal pace. I’m so grateful that Mercedes has taken over. “Show her the book, Mattie,” she says.

I head back to my seat by way of the light switch. When the lights flicker back on, everyone groans. I pull The Seed Sower out of my backpack and bring it to Mrs. Ellingham.

“It’s a real myth. It’s just not Greek, not one you’ve probably heard before,” I tell her as she admires the shiny black cover, finds the hidden animals and shapes. “It’s important to learn stories from everywhere.” I point out the Tima and Yuí story in the book, the book written by our father. “Sometimes,” I tell our teacher, “the stories you’ve never heard before are the most interesting. The ones that can change your life.”

CHAPTER 48 Mercedes

Mattie!” I call as she heads for her bus after school. Now that it’s late October, the cold weather has brought rain and she’s wearing her noisy orange jacket. The only good thing about it is that it hides her red sweatshirt with a picture of a grinning hippo on the front. She turns around. “Can you sneak away?” I ask.

Mattie smiles. “I’ve had some practice.”