I laugh. What she said is funny, and, instead of walking over to Delia and pushing her face into her mashed potatoes to get her back for falsely accusing us of stealing, Lottie finishes her lunch.

20

The Search

On Tuesday morning, the graduating girls let us into the front of the bathroom line, and the Elephant and Mrs. Thomas sail past us during the morning inspection. Afterward, a troop of little girls carry our textbooks from classroom to classroom. Boys whisper when we draw near, and even Mr. Newman, the science teacher from Pietermaritzburg who stands too close to check your notes, keeps the sharp end of his ruler away from us.

The attention is exhilarating and unrelenting. It is tiring too. By morning teatime, I’m exhausted. Being popular is a drain. I want the Golden Sun ceremony over with so Lottie and I can go back to being normal, unremarkable us.

“Walk to the cattle grids by the chapel?” Lottie asks after Scripture class. Being the center of attention is extra hard for her. She’s used to the freedom of anonymity, and now everyone looks at her all the time.

We split off from the group of little girls who beg to walk with us to the chapel. The Swazi laborer digging a ditch beyond the cattle grid chants a work song. The sky is enormous and blue, and dotted with clouds. We take in the scent of Mrs. Vincent’s garden: dark earth, cut grass, and, of course, roses. The smell, the sky, Lottie standing beside me, and the rhythm of the workman’s shovel in the dirt . . . I am present in my own skin, full of the world, as if all of it is inside me.

A car turns off the main road, and the sound of the engine interrupts the peace. It’s Mr. Moses’s white Volkswagen Beetle with the silver rack on the roof for when he goes camping during the holidays. Cars are a rare sight on school roads, and it’s the custom for drivers to smile and wave—or, better yet, beep their horn to greet the students. Mr. Moses does neither. He parks in front of the Vincents’ house, opens the door, and takes the stairs two at a time, which is against the rules for students. Mr. Moses is in a hurry.

“Something’s wrong,” Lottie says when Mr. Vincent opens the door and Mr. Moses shakes his head no before Mr. Vincent speaks a word. The men huddle and talk in whispers, and the topic of their conversation comes to me in capital letters.

My heart drums. “They’re talking about Darnell Parns. He’s been gone a week today.”

Lottie nibbles her bottom lip. “It might be that Darnell’s father is planting the fields late. He needs Darnell’s help, and that’s why he hasn’t brought Darnell back to school.”