Koji doesn’t say anything. He grips his machete and looks down the long row of cane ahead of him. I wonder what he thinks about his newfound power. If it were mine, I would have killed that luna, stealing my father’s razor from my boot, swinging the blade open and singing it across his throat in one smooth swoop, yeah. But that’s me, that’s Franklin, not Koji. Never Koji. Instead, he takes a deep breath and I see him reaching deep down inside of himself to call up his monster, eh, that strength that makes him such a fast cane cutter that even the lunas and plantation police won’t touch him. Then before I can say another word he begins cutting with such speed I can’t keep up.

Every whack of the machete releases his anger.

Every whack of the machete makes him stronger.

I pick up the pace and try to follow.

We have to stay one step ahead.

Lost and Found: December 6–8, 1935

Lost and Found

December 6–8, 1935

22. Ashes

22

Ashes

Daniel carefully snapped apart and boxed the metal railroad tracks before slipping each railcar back into its original packaging, all the while thinking of Maile. It had been more than a week since he’d seen her after the meeting at the fish market. Since then, it was as if she’d disappeared back into hiding. He had a mind to stop by her cousin’s place just to make sure she was all right, maybe see if she’d have a meal with him. Daniel shook his head; he was acting like they were in high school again.

With his railcars and track packed and back in the hall closet, the kitchen table looked stripped. Daniel had been home for two weeks and knew it was time to clean up his toys, as his mother used to tell him, though his railroad set had been a welcome sight every morning when he walked into the kitchen. His first week back, he watched the railcars click-clack around the table as he stood at the counter eating his breakfast, comforted by them like being in a room with old friends.