Chapters (36)
Behind us, the junior boys and girls form a human cordon around the little-boys’ dormitory. Each of them holds a wooden bucket, which Mrs. Vincent fills with water siphoned from the ten-gallon drums. I pray that the big boys and the male teachers keep the fire well away from the dry field and the tiny bodies standing in defense.
Brenda with the nasal voice goes over to Mrs. Vincent and whispers in her ear. Mrs. Vincent nods, and Brenda pulls her lame brother, Leon, from the junior line. He fights her. He kicks and bites. She grabs his ear and twists.
“Please, let me,” he begs. “Let me stay.”
“I promised Pa.” Brenda pulls him to the road, and his pleas grow faint the farther away he gets from danger.
“Poor thing,” Lottie says, and strangely, I understand what she means. Leon wants to be part of the fight. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else either. The school generator turns on, and light from the boys’ dormitories floods the sports field. Mrs. Thomas shifts her weight from one foot to the other and makes soft clucking noises that are meant to soothe us, but they only heighten our fear. If the grown-ups are afraid of the fire, how are we meant to be brave?
We wait for what seems like hours while the boys tackle the flames out of our sight. More lightning bolts pierce the sky, and I swap my branch from one hand to the other, agitated and bored.
Mr. Vincent stumbles out of the bush with wild hair and a red face. He blows his whistle to get our attention. “The main blaze is under control, but we need to put out the spot fires.” His voice is hoarse from shouting orders. “Bring the water buckets!”
“One bucket each, girls.” Mrs. Thomas is calm now that the fire is beaten. “Careful. And no spilling.”
“Finally,” Lottie whispers. “A little fire is better than none.”
A third-class girl offers Lottie her bucket.
“Adele and Lottie,” Mrs. Thomas says. “Take the pangas back to the shed and return the key to me, please.”
“But . . .” Lottie is outraged. I am outraged. We’ve been dismissed from the best part of the crisis, and tomorrow the others will tell us what we missed in full detail. Tall trees alight . . . A burned snake curled around a rock . . . Towers of flame and smoke, and the smell of sweaty boys. Where were you? Oh, that’s right, you missed it.
“Now,” Mrs. Thomas snaps. “No arguments.”