Moon Runner (7 page)

Ruth began to jog as Mina drew near. Mina hurled herself forward one last time and delivered the baton to Ruth.

When Mina turned, Ruth was gone, leaping toward the finish line. A whistle blew, and then Ruth was holding her arms in the air, joining hands with Liz. And Cassie lifted Mina’s arm and they ran together to join the others.

All four were screaming and shouting. Mina found her throat filled with happy cries. Their relay team had won!

Mina looked up into the bleachers. She found Alana and her family, Mom and Daddy and Paige, standing together cheering. Alana held up her fingers in a
V
for
Victory.
Paige was waving as she bobbed up and down.

Mina felt Coach’s big hand pat her back in congratulations. “You’ll be going to City now.”

Mina’s head spun with joy.

She, Liz, Cassie, and Ruth hugged in a tight circle of four. As Mina laughed and babbled with the others, she sensed circles extending beyond the relay team — her family, Sammy and Alana, the round globe of the earth itself, filled with springtime, and beyond even that, the moon, growing and dying and growing each month in the sky.

I would like to acknowledge the members of the Hive who encouraged me in the first draft of this story: Gretchen Woelfle, Mary Ann Downing, JoAnn Macken, Phyllis Harris, April Sayre, Jeanne Marie Grunwell, Meribeth Shanks, and Laura Kemp; Irma Shephard for her intuitive reading; Ann Collins for her eagle eye edits; and my editors, Deborah Wayshak and Amy Erhlich, who, as always, led me to the heart of the story.

In the gloom of the dusty temple, Tinh bowed to the Buddha. Three times he knelt, touching his forehead to the grass mat. Then he stood with his palms joined in front of his heart, regarding the statue: reddish copper beneath the layer of grime.

The Buddha’s right hand rested in his lap, close to the earth, while the other was raised in the mudra for peace. The Buddha, with his full cheeks and almond eyes, looked something like Ba, Tinh’s father.

Tinh’s cousins — Trang Ton, Dong, and Anh — also bowed, not so quickly that the adults would make them prostrate again, but with no time wasted. They longed to get outside before the monk began his long talk.

Several side altars were laden with vases of sweet jasmine and offerings of globular green guavas and waxy star fruit.

One altar, half-hidden by the donation box, displayed photographs of the village ancestors, including Tinh’s grandparents — Ong Noi and Banoi. Tinh’s gaze lingered on the small faces in the black-and-white photos. Both grandparents had died not long ago, and Tinh missed them.

Tinh looked out at the temple courtyard shining with morning sunlight. His cousins would soon head for the open field beyond. Trang Ton had just gotten a new soccer ball from his rich uncle in America.

Yet when Tinh’s cousins finished bowing, he didn’t follow them, but settled himself onto the floor beside Ba and Ma.

The monks and nuns, with their shaved heads and loose brown robes, waited cross-legged at the front of the temple. A very old monk sat in the middle.

From outside, Tinh heard the shouts of the little kids fighting their mock battles, using long stems cut from elephant-ear plants and soft old coconut husks that they tossed from behind the temple walls.

Lifting a wooden baton, a nun invited the temple bell, a large ceramic bowl. The bell vibrated in low, penetrating tones.

Each week Tinh waited for this moment when the world and his heart settled.

Even the little soldiers outside silenced their shouts. After the nun invited the bell twice more, women raised their palm-leaf fans, waving them gently.

The monks and nuns started their chant:
“In the precious presence of the Buddha, fragrant with sandalwood incense, we recognize our errors and begin anew. . . .”

The words entered Tinh like soft rain.

“The raft of the Buddha carries us over the ocean of sorrows. . . .”

Tinh sighed, the knots inside him relaxing.

When the chanting stilled, the old monk began his talk: “Today I offer you a handful of diamonds. Not one diamond, but a handful.”

Expecting to see real jewels, Tinh looked up. But the monk opened his hand to reveal nothing.

“You may think we have little in our village,” the monk continued. “You may think that we should be sad to be so poor. But we have the sun.” He pointed overhead. “And the moon, the source of all poetry.” He pointed upward again.

As the monk talked, Tinh studied pictures depicting the life of the Buddha. The scenes were painted on the eastern wall: the Buddha as a baby taking his seven famous steps, a lotus blooming in each footprint. The Buddha as a young prince. The Buddha reaching enlightenment under the bodhi tree with its green-heart leaves.

“You have the diamond of your mother. Even if your mother has passed away, you have her within you. You have the diamond of your father. . . .”

The monk’s voice was like the ocean at low tide. Tinh shut his eyes and let the words paint pictures in his head.

“The sea full of fish, the fresh winds, the breath flowing in and out of your body — all these things are beautiful diamonds in your life, shining day and night. The Buddha offers you these diamonds of true happiness. . . .”

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.

Copyright © 2005 by Carolyn Marsden
Cover photograph copyright © 2005 by Kathryn M. Wilde

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.

First electronic edition 2015

The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:
Marsden, Carolyn.
Moon runner / Carolyn Marsden. — 1st ed.
p.  cm.
Summary: When Mina discovers that she can run faster than her athletic friend, Ruth, she thinks she must choose between running and friendship.
[1. Friendship — Fiction. 2. Running — Fiction. 3. Racing — Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.M35135Mo 2005
[Fic] — dc22    2004058143

Candlewick Press
99 Dover Street
Somerville, Massachusetts 02144

visit us at
www.candlewick.com