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feet away. From there, her sense of direction was askew. She had clung to her cousin’s back on the motorcycle the entire way in, paying more attention to faces as they streamed by rather than the lay of things.
    She saw several people walking about and decided to ask for help. To her left sat three girls who appeared a few years older than herself, chattering away as they played a game that required tossing rubber bands onto the ground. Their play was lit by a small candle housed in a bucket hanging from a nearby window, attended by a host of moths called to the light but unable to touch it.
    —
Bonswa
.
    The three girls stopped their play and looked at Libète with empty stares.
    — What? said the biggest of the three.
    — I–I’m looking for the—what was it called?—the “water kiosk.”
    One of the girls raised her hand to point and began to speak but the big girl cut her off.
    — You’re new. Where do you live? Libète pointed to her Aunt’s house.
    — The restaurant house. Restaurant Estelle.
    The speaker’s buck teeth, visible in the candlelight, clashed with an otherwise pleasant face. So you’re their new
restavek
then? You look the part.
    —
Restavek? Libète said quizzically.
    — You don’t know what a restavek is? Where are you from?
    — La Gonâve. I came this afternoon.
    — You’re fresh then! said one of the others. Straight from the hills!
    — They must be pretty stupid in La Gonâve to not know what a restavek is.
    — We aren’t stupid, Libète said defensively. I’ve just never heard the word.
    — You’re a
ti bòn,
stupid. A bonded child. A slave.
    — A slave? No, no, I’m not anything like that. I’m their niece. My Aunt calls me her daughter.
    — Whatever, said the big one with wild teeth. There are lots of your kind around here. “Get this, get that, do this, do that.” Orders. That’s all they’ll say to you.
    — What’s your name? said another girl.
    — Libète, she murmured.
    They all laughed.
    — Fitting. A slave named liberty. Just wait! If you don’t work, they’ll kick you out. We only get yelled at or beaten when we disobey—never sent away.
    — They wouldn’t do that to me! she stammered. They’re my family!
    The girls roared.
    — Your “Aunt” goes through restaveks fast—faster than anyone I know. She had another girl that was booted out a few weeks ago. What was her name?
    — Kalencia, said one of the others.
    — Right. Kalencia. Put right out on the street. So be careful ti bòn, or you’ll find your ass on the road, too.
    Libète glowered. Just tell me where the water is and leave me alone.
    — We’re going to enjoy seeing you around “
Li-bè-te
,” they cackled. Down the road and turn right. You’ll see it halfway down.
    Libète walked away wanting to throw the bucket at the girls. This anger, this biting, seething, stomping anger, was something new. She had not even harbored it against her father.
Why were they so mean to me? Am I a ti bòn—a slave
? She turned the thought over as she followed their directions.
At least they told me the right way
, she thought as she came upon the water station.
    She handed her coin to the attendant sitting in a cell, or at least it seemed that way. He was hardly visible in the dark.
    He turned a valve inside his booth and this released water into her bucket, which she had placed under a spigot protruding from the cage. It filled quickly, and each extra drop of water increased Libète’s worry.
How can I carry such a thing?
    — Mesye, I am sorry to ask, but I have no way to lift this up.
    — So? the jailed man said. Pour some out.
    — If I do I’m afraid my Aunt will become angry.
    — Got any more money?
    Libète’s lip trembled. This was all too much. To have lost her mother, been whisked from her home, forced to go to this place where people with crazed teeth cannot help without teasing or taking one’s money…
    Tears burst from her eyes. Mesye, she begged, please just help me put the