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inside of the remote is green and corroded. You can have the car if you want.”
    â€œI can
have
it?” Tinh asked. Was the diamond falling into his hands so easily?
    Trang Ton nodded.
    Tinh gave a low whistle. But then he quickly realized that without the remote, the car wouldn’t run. It would be just a child’s toy. He might as well give it to Trang Ton’s little cousin Phu.
    Tinh helped Trang Ton, Linh, Fourth Uncle, and Ba lift off the top boat. Though the paint was peeling and the shrine had fallen off, the body seemed undamaged.
    Tinh watched as the boat was carried to the ocean. Fourth Uncle tugged at the line of the engine. The engine sputtered once, then roared, letting out a cloud of black smoke. Everyone cheered.
    If only it were so simple with
his
boat, Tinh thought. He scratched away at the nest of sand it lay in.
    Fourth Uncle and Linh took off aboard the first boat. “We’ll catch fish for all of you,” Linh shouted over the sound of the engine.
    Another cheer went up from the beach. Tinh’s mouth suddenly watered. The supplies of rice in the village were almost gone.
    The next boat needed more work. The engine had broken off. Dong used the hand drill while Trang Ton dug out the accumulation of sand in the bottom of the boat.
    Tinh searched for lost bolts in the sand.
    â€œWe’re missing all but two,” Dong said, and Tinh searched deeper until he found five bolts, the threads gritty with sand.
    He wouldn’t rest until his own boat was floating on the ocean again. It would be a while before he’d be able to work on it. To distract himself, he pulled the remnants of Lan’s pink kite from the fallen tree. One piece of the bamboo frame was broken. He tore the paper loose from the other piece and laid it aside. When Lan’s leg healed, they’d build another kite.
    Soon the second boat was also launched. It, too, would bring fish for the village.
    Up and down the beach as far as Tinh could see, more boats were taking to the water.
    Finally Tinh’s bamboo boat lay alone, half buried in sand. Everyone else was either already at sea or repairing other boats, so Tinh and Ba worked alone.
    In any case, Tinh thought, with some people already fishing, everyone’s stomachs would be full tonight.
    At first, Tinh used a stick, while Ba used the shovel. But when the boat was almost freed, they dug with their hands so they wouldn’t damage the bamboo. Sand lodged deep under Tinh’s fingernails.
    They yanked the boat from its bed of sand and stood back to survey the damage: the once-golden bamboo was gray. The hull was fractured. The engine was packed with sand.
    Ba kicked at a rock and said a bad word.
    Tinh clenched his fists so the fingernails bit into the palms. How could he and Ba repair all this?
    They flipped the boat over. Fish, rotting in the nets, stared at Tinh. They’d died for nothing. If he’d set them free when the storm hit, the Buddha might have blessed him with better fortune.
    Then he saw the statue of the Bodhisattva still lashed to her shrine. Tinh untied her and, cradling her in his arms, ran to the ocean. He bathed the statue and dried her with his shirt. He set
Phat Ba Quan Ahm
in the shade, smoothing the sand around her.
    Tinh made a sling of his shirt and carried water to wash the boat.
    Ba looked over at Trang Ton’s green boat, and Tinh followed his gaze. Trang Ton and an uncle were pushing it into the waves.
    â€œGo fish with Trang Ton if you like,” said Ba. “He could use your help.”
    It would be fun to go with Trang Ton. They could have a fish-catching contest. They could tell ghost stories.
    But Tinh needed to work on the boat with Ba. He needed to be a man. “I’ll stay with you,” he said to Ba, meeting his eyes.
    Ba gave a tiny nod. A pulse of cool air from the ocean caressed Tinh’s cheek.
    After Ba cut away the damaged bamboo, Tinh helped to fit in new pieces. Tinh