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“I thought you’d be pleased.”
    â€œI am. I mean, thank you. But I was…There’s a pattern.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, a pattern? It’s just color. Lots of different colors and shapes.” Pendo dropped her schoolbag on the ground and ran her hand across the wall. “There is hardly any space between the pictures. I was very careful.” She frowned. “I did it for you, Saffy.”
    â€œBut there has to be a pattern. A design,” insisted Safiyah. “It’s a mural, Pendo. Like Mr. Littlejohn said. It is not just pieces of paper.”
    â€œYou’re jealous.” Pendo’s voice was thin and hard. “I got the scissors and the paste. I finished it myself. You are mad because I did it and you didn’t.”
    The two girls stood facing each other on the busy street.
    Safiyah wanted to be grateful, she really did. Pendo had done just what Safiyah had set out to do. To cover the outside of the shack with bright color now that she had filled in the cracks in the walls inside to keep out the cold and the heat, the smoke and the smells. But as her mural had grown, a picture had taken shape in her head. A picture of something new and fresh out of something old and thrown away.
    This wall of color and shapes was nothing like the picture in her head.
    Safiyah yanked a loose piece of paper away from the wall. As she pulled, the strip grew and grew, leaving a long scar. She reached forward again.
    â€œDon’t!” Pendo stepped in front of Safiyah. “You spoiled it!”
    â€œYou’re the one who spoiled it.” Safiyah pushed her friend aside.
    Pendo tripped against the edge of Cucu’s bench. “That hurt!”
    When Safiyah reached out to help her up, Pendo pushed her hand away. “I don’t need to be sticking bits of silly paper on an old wall anyway. I have lots of other friends. We have much more interesting things to do.” Without another word, she ran down the alley, turned the corner and was out of sight.
    Safiyah looked at the ragged piece of paper hanging from her fingers. She crumpled it up and dropped it on the ground.
    When she looked at the wall, all she could see through her tears was a blur of colors and shapes that made no sense at all.

Chapter Fourteen
    Cucu was asleep when Safiyah got back to the clinic. Families were crowded between the beds, sharing food, talking and laughing. One lady who stayed at the clinic to take care of her son handed Safiyah a bean cake as she passed.
    She broke it in half and set one piece on Cucu’s blanket, then sat cross-legged on the end of the bed and watched her grandmother’s chest rise and fall. Her eyelids fluttered as if she was dreaming. Safiyah crumbled her piece of bean cake into pieces and dropped them into the dips in the mancala board.
    Mrs. Pakua emerged through the crowd and looked down at Cucu. “How is your cucu today?” she asked.
    â€œBetter, I think.” Safiyah ducked her head.
    â€œHow are you?”
    â€œI’m all right.” Safiyah stared at her lap.
    The bed squeaked as Mrs. Pakua sat down, careful not to disturb Safiyah’s grandmother. She touched Safiyah’s cheeks with her finger. “Are those tears?”
    â€œI had a fight with my friend,” Safiyah told her.
    â€œI am sure you can soon make up.”
    â€œShe doesn’t need me.” Safiyah gulped. “She has lots of other friends at school.”
    â€œI expect you’d like to go to school.”
    Safiyah chewed her lip. There was no point in answering.
    â€œChidi can go to school,” said Mrs. Pakua with a laugh. “But he would rather stay home.”
    â€œBlade doesn’t go to school,” said Safiyah.
    â€œRasul. We call him by his proper name.” Mrs. Pakua’s voice was sad. “No, Rasul doesn’t go to school anymore.”
    â€œPeople are scared of him,” said Safiyah. “But he is kind to