So Much for Democracy (5 page)

Esi dances over to me. I join her, moving my feet in the space between the crate and the wall. “
I'm gonna
getcha getcha getcha getcha one way or another
,” we shout into the crowded air. My breathlessness is gone now. Piper claps and we dance and sing until the song's over.

“Phew, I'm thirsty,” I say. I'm sweating all over, and my shirt sticks to my back.

“I have some drinks back here,” says Esi, reaching under a crate at the back of the stall.

“Great,” I say, but then I remember. Mom will have a fit if we drink something that doesn't come in a sealed bottle. It's the only way to be safe, she always says. But I don't want to be rude. It's generous of Esi to offer me a drink—it's not like she can turn on a tap and have drinking water come out.

I'm still thinking about how to say no when she stands up and hands me a Coke. “There's a bottle opener here somewhere,” she says. The Coke's warm, and its strong taste burns my mouth, but it feels good anyway. I give a sip to Piper, but she scrunches up her nose and coughs. Esi pats her on her back and says, “Water would be better, but we'll get a coconut for you, baby.” I should have known Esi wouldn't offer us unboiled water. Thomas has probably told her what Mom's like.

I relax and look around. The stall is filled with wooden animals.

“These are Thomas's?” I ask.

“Aren't they beautiful?” says Esi.

“This is where you sell them?”

Esi nods. “When we've sold enough, we'll use the money to get a house. That's our plan.”

I can picture it. A little house with Esi singing inside and Thomas gardening outside.

The stall shelves are full. There's a family of elephants—two big ones and five little ones, each holding onto the tail of the one in front of it. There are two giraffes, their necks entwined, and a growling hyena. There are birds too—something with long legs, and several egrets. Crocodiles open their mouths wide, and antelope bend to drink. Each animal is set in a scene, next to a pond made of blue cloth or under a tree made of a branch or soaring through the air on coat hangers. It's like being in a tiny natural history museum.

“This is beautiful,” I say.

“Thomas lives for his animals,” says Esi.

Thomas arrives then and says, “Your mom's not happy with you. We'd better get back to the car.”

My good mood evaporates, and I want to scream. Mom doesn't trust me at all anymore. Not even to find my way through the market to the car.

I stand abruptly. “Bye, Esi, it was nice to meet you,” I say as we leave.

“You too, Astrid,” she says.

Thomas kisses Esi, and she takes a long time letting go of his hand, as if she doesn't want him to leave, but he pulls away and says to me, “Let's go before your mom gets more worried.” He throws Piper up onto his shoulders so she's riding high and leads the way back toward the car. I trail behind a bit so that I can stop being upset before I see Mom.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Mom says when we reach the car. Her voice is breathless, and she drops the two bags she's holding and grabs Piper from Thomas. Oranges and tomatoes roll on the dusty ground.

“I lost you,” she says.

“We were fine. I could have found my way,” I say.

She hugs Piper, who squirms in the heat of her arms. Thomas picks up Mom's bags, and together we put the oranges and tomatoes back into the bags.

When I stand up, Mom's crying and kissing Piper like she's a long-lost baby she hasn't seen in months. Piper looks as if she's about to scream, so I say, “Mom, it's okay. We were with Thomas.”

She doesn't seem to hear me, and she clutches Piper closer to her chest.

“Mom.” I reach over and grab her arm so she has to pay attention. “Let's get into the car. It's too hot.”

Thomas has already opened the doors, and Mom lets me lead her to the front seat. As soon as she sits down, I take Piper from her and the two of us crawl into the back seat. Thomas noses the car away from the parking lot and turns on the air-conditioning. The cool air washes over us like relief, but there's a knot inside my stomach that doesn't go away, especially when Mom leans her head against the back of her seat and covers her face with her hands.

EIGHT

On the weekend, Dad finally gives in about us being grounded, and we all go to the beach with Thema's family. Thank goodness. Three weeks of being grounded was way too long. In the morning, Dad runs around the house organizing us. He pops his head into my room and says, “Hat, flip-flops, cover-up, bathing suit.”

“Yeah, Dad, I know.”

He grins and backs out of the room, and I hear him give the same list to Gordo next door. I pull on my bathing suit and then a T-shirt and shorts over top.

Mom wafts into the room wearing a flowery thing that covers her from neck to toe. When I laugh, she twirls. “Fabulous, eh?” She looks happy, so I say, “Yep. Fabulous.”

The drive to the beach is long and dusty, and there are lots of roadblocks where we have to hand over a bribe of a few cedis before we can drive through, so by the time we get there, we all want to run into the waves. When I see the curve of the beach in front of us, I pull off my T-shirt and shorts so I can run out as soon as Dad parks the car.

Mom passes back a bottle of sunscreen. “Goop up,” she says.

Gordo and I roll our eyes. Most people use baby oil, so they can get a tan, but we have to cover up with sunscreen so we don't.

“Do I have to?” says Gordo.

“Yes,” says Mom without even turning around.

“How come?” Gordo asks.

“Because I said so.”

“That's not a good reason.”

Gordo and Mom can go on like this for ages, and it drives me crazy. Doesn't Gordo know he'll never win?

“Put it on,” I say. I grab the bottle from him and pour some into my hand. I rub it over my body and face and hand the bottle back to Gordo. “It doesn't hurt, you know.”

Gordo snatches the bottle from me and pours some into his hand, then rubs it furiously onto his face and arms. When he's done, he slouches in his seat.
So what?
I think.
Let him sulk if he wants to
.

Dad pulls the car onto the sand and parks next to Mr. Ampofo's car. Thema and her brother, Ebo, run to our car.

“Race you to the water,” says Thema as Gordo and I climb out, and the four of us run toward the waves.

“Wait,” shouts Mom, and she runs after us, waving hats in the air. No one on the whole beach is wearing a hat, but Mom insists we put them on. Gordo and I take ours, then wait until Mom's back is turned before we toss them onto the sand.

Gordo and Ebo play a game where one of them squats in the water and the other climbs onto the squatter's knees.

When the squatter stands, the other person flies up and lands in the water. I try it with Gordo, then with Thema, but it works better if the squatter's taller than you, so Thema asks Ebo to give her a ride. He bends down and holds out his hand so she can climb onto his knees. When he stands, she flies way up into the air and lands with a splash next to me.

“Try it with him,” Thema splutters when she comes to the surface. I blush at the thought and turn away, but Ebo calls out, “Come on, Astrid,” so I swim underwater for a second, then head over to where he's standing.

“Are you ready?” he says. He holds out his hand. I put my hand in his and step onto his bent legs. He grins at me and squats down. His hand grips mine, and then he pushes me upward as he stands, and I hang in the air for a second before splashing deep into the water below.

I splutter and snort and cough as my head surfaces.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I nod but keep hacking.

“Next time, cover your nose,” he says. He pats me on the back as I cough some more.

I nod again, but there isn't going to be a next time. I wade to the shallows and sit on the sand.

Thema comes over and sits down next to me. “Are you okay?” she asks.

I nod.

“Let's get the air mattresses,” she says.

“Good idea.”

The two of us inflate the mattresses, wade out knee deep, then hop on and float in the gentle waves. Neither of us says anything. It's relaxing, lying here. Our hands trail in the water, and our mattresses rock softly. My mind wanders, and I think about my friends back home and how they're probably sitting in someone's rec room right now, watching
TV
or listening to records. Or maybe they're all biking around the neighborhood. Usually when I think about them I get sad, but not today. Today the only thing I want to do is lie here and float with Thema.

Thema starts to sing, and I flip over to watch her. She has the most beautiful voice. Mom says she sounds like an African angel. Dad says she could give the opera singer Jessye Norman a run for her money. Thema always talks about going to London when she's older to study voice. She could do it too—she's that good. Her voice is big, even here on the water, and it makes me laugh to watch her face as it fills with the sound she's making. We both giggle as she fills up her chest and finishes the song.

“Sing something from Donna Summer,” I say.

She starts a song I haven't heard before. “What is that?” I ask.

“‘Hot Stuff.' It just came out. Auntie sent it from London. You have to come over to listen. You have to.” She sings the first line again, and I can't help but sit up so I can dance. Thema sits too, and then we both stand and dance around on the wobbly air mattresses.

“Astrid!” Mom's voice carries loudly across the water. I turn and wave at her, but she calls again. “Astrid!” There's something in her voice, even across the water, that makes me sit.

“What's the matter?” Thema says to me.

“I don't know.” Mom is waving frantically, so I flop down on the mattress and paddle for shore with Thema right beside me. When the water is knee deep, we both hop off and wade in.

“Come in, please, Astrid. You know you're not supposed to stand on the air mattresses,” says Mom.

She puts her hand out to take the mattress from me.

“Mom! We were hardly far out at all,” I say.

“That's not the point.”

“We were only at chest level. If I fell off, I could stand up in the water easily.”

“Arguing with me isn't helping, Astrid.”

“It's okay, Astrid, we can sit here,” says Thema, and the two of us sit down on our mattresses in the shallow water.

Mom stands over us for a minute, then says, “Astrid, the air mattress, please.”

“Mom! We're in, like, two inches of water.”

She reaches over to take it from me, but I'm a bit too far away, and she stumbles.

“Astrid, you give me that thing right now.”

“Why?” I ask. She's being stupid. I
was
going to give it back to her, but now I'm not.

“Astrid, one more word from you and you'll sit in the car for the rest of the day,” says Mom. Her face is red, and her voice sounds choked.

“Astrid, it's okay. Give her the mattress. I'll put mine away too,” says Thema, but I stare at Mom and pull the mattress farther away. My face burns now, though I'm still in the water. Why is Mom acting like this? She never used to treat me this way. She used to be fun, but now all she ever does is tell me I can't do things. She's done that so many times over the past few weeks.

I'm tired of it.

Thema pulls my mattress out from beneath me and hands it to Mom. “It's not worth it,” she whispers. Mom takes the mattress and walks away, and Thema and I go sit back on the sand.

“Your mom seems tired,” says Thema.

Thema's so understanding. She always has something nice to say about people. I would have said Mom was crazy or, if I was being more serious, disturbed. But tired is maybe all that's wrong with Mom. Maybe she's tired out. That doesn't make sense, though, because at home she didn't have Abena to help her and she wasn't exhausted there.

“I'm not sure what's wrong with her,” I say.

“She seems…” Thema's voice trails away, and then she says, “Stricter than usual.”

“Yeah.”

“Ebo brought some boogie boards,” says Gordo, running up. “I'm going to try it.”

“Yeah, right,” I say.

“I am.” He stands up and jumps into a surfing pose. It's funny yet not, because I know one hundred percent for certain that Mom will never let him do it. Never.

“You won't be allowed,” I say.

Gordo pouts and slams the water with his palm. He falls to the ground and looks like he's about to explode.

Before he can, Thema says, “I know. Let's go buy sunspots in the village.”

Gordo and I both jump up. “Great idea. I'll get some money,” I say. Sun-spots are really just frozen orange juice, but they taste so good as they melt in your mouth. Gordo smiles again, and I'm happy not to have to listen to him throw a temper tantrum.

I walk up the beach to where Dad is sitting with Piper under a coconut tree next to the cars. “Dad, can I have some cedis to buy sun-spots?”

Piper claps, and Dad says, “If you take Piper along.”

“Sure,” I say.

Dad pulls out his wallet and hands me a clump of cedis. I hoist Piper onto my hip.

“You'd better take your hats in case Mom sees you walking down the beach,” Dad says. I'm about to protest, but he says, “It's just a hat, Astrid. Please,” and the tiredness in his voice makes me agree.

Gordo and Piper and I all shove our hats onto our heads, and I pull a T-shirt over Piper to cover her shoulders. We join Thema and Ebo, and the five of us walk down the beach. We stay low, where the sand is cool and hard. I let Piper down and she holds my hand on one side and Thema's on the other, and we swing her along as we go.

We don't have to go as far as the village because we are greeted by a woman carrying a tray of sun-spots in ice on her head. We all buy one, and I get another for Dad.