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house.”
    â€œMrs. Pakua says everything is fine,” Safiyah told her grandmother.
    â€œShe is so kind. But you know what I miss?”
    â€œYour mancala board?” suggested Safiyah.
    When Cucu nodded, her face was sad. “I may have left it at Mrs. Okella’s house. Or perhaps I took it home. I forget so much. Will you find it for me?”
    â€œYour stones are here,” Safiyah told her. “Safe under the mattress.”
    â€œI would like to know the board is safe too.” Cucu’s eyes were brighter now and her cheeks were not as shadowy. But what if she got sick again while Safiyah was away on this errand?
    As if she knew what Safiyah was thinking, Cucu said, “You don’t have to worry about me, Saffy. And I know it’s just a little thing, but my mancala board is all I have.”
    Safiyah fingered her own bracelet.
    â€œCan you do this for me?” asked Cucu.
    First Safiyah filled her grandmother’s cup at the tap. Cucu sipped and handed it back. Then Safiyah tucked the blanket tighter around her grandmother’s thin legs. “Hurry now.” Cucu smiled. “I will be right here. Waiting for you.”
    After one long look back, Safiyah pushed through the families crowded between the patients’ beds and chatting on the porch. She stepped over children playing in the courtyard while more sick people sat in the shade, waiting to a see doctor.
    It seemed so long since she had come here with Cucu. And in such a panic. For a moment Safiyah could not remember how to get home.
    Then she heard the roar of a train in the distance. She saw the power lines that ran along the tracks. She followed them along the bank where boys played in the rubble and dogs fought over garbage. She passed the stall selling water bottles and roasted corn nuts.
    Back on familiar streets, she hurried past the customers lined up at the water vendor. She waved to Mr. Zuma, who was turning a bicycle tire in a bucket of water.
    A new shack of boards and iron sheets stood where Mrs. Okella’s house had been. Two children played outside with a bucket while their mother chatted to an old man leaning on a stick.
    Cucu’s bench was just where it belonged, outside the house Safiyah shared with her grandmother. And behind it was the wall that Safiyah had last seen all smudged and blistered from the fire.
    But now it was covered once again in bright pictures.

Chapter Thirteen
    â€œHow is your grandmother, child?” Safiyah’s new neighbor asked as she tucked her hair into her scarf.
    â€œBetter, thank you,” answered Safiyah. “Have you…? I mean, who has been here?”
    â€œSuch a good friend you have. She comes almost every day straight from school.”
    â€œPendo did this?”
    â€œI believe that is her name. You are very lucky to have such a good friend.” The woman bent to pick up a child. “Let me know if your cucu needs help when she comes home.”
    Safiyah went indoors. The small space felt stuffy and hot. A fly flicked from one wall to the other above her head.
    Safiyah found her grandmother’s mancala board on the bed where she must have left it. She tucked it tightly under her arm. They had so little. But she still had her bracelet. And her grandmother had her precious game.
    Outside, Safiyah sat on Cucu’s bench to wait for Pendo. She ran her fingers along the wooden board, remembering how quickly the fire had taken Mrs. Okella’s house and her few belongings. How lucky the fire had not spread to her house and stolen the few reminders of their old life.
    A crowd of school children turned the corner. “Saffy!” Pendo ran toward her. “I have missed you so much.”
    When Pendo reached to hug her, Safiyah moved aside and pointed at the wall. “Did you do this?” she asked.
    Pendo grinned. “Aren’t you surprised?”
    â€œIt’s all wrong,” said Safiyah.
    Pendo’s smile faded.