Bamboo People Read Online Free Page A

Where are they taking us? When will they bring us back? I have to keep track of the journey so that I can send word home about my location.
    We’re already on the outskirts of the city and heading north, where rice paddies and coconut trees line the narrow, flat highway. Women are harvesting rice, their bodies bent, their bamboo hats shaped like upside-down bowls. Thin, straight streams sparkle like wires, dividing the wet fields into squares. The last rays of the sun redden, spilling into the water like blood.
    How will Mother feel when I don’t come back? Will she be able to sleep alone in the house? I remind myself of Daw Widow; she’ll never leave Mother alone. I think of Lei and rub my eyes, thankful that my seatmate’s are still closed.
    The last light disappears behind the coconut trees.
Coward, Chiko!
I tell myself.
Be a man!
I try to picture Father, remembering how steady his voice was as he called out that last request even as the soldiers were pulling him away. If only I could hear that calm voice again! Or catch one more glimpse of his face! I need to know he’s somewhere on the planet, breathing, talking, healing, trying his best to get home.
    Suddenly I remember the gift Lei and her mother gave me. I unbutton my pocket and fumble inside. Is Father’s photo gone? Did it fall out in the confusion? No, thanks to Mother’s strong sewing, everything in my pocket is safe, including the money she gave me. I’m about to take Father’s photo out when I notice the captain is still half-turned in his seat. I can’t risk losing this gift, and I don’t want another kick; I’ll have to wait until later. Quickly I refasten the pocket button and zip up my jacket.
    A few of the soldiers start singing a popular song from a film. One looks like he’s only about fourteen.
Village boys,
I think, listening to their accents. The captain takes off his military jacket, leans forward, and tells a joke. His soldiers laugh as though it’s the funniest thing they’ve heard. That joke is stale in the city; I’ve heard vendors who come to our door tell it a dozen times.
    Win Min turns and folds his commanding officer’s jacket carefully. The captain pats the gangly boy’s shoulder, making him beam.
    The bus rattles on as it grows dark, but I manage to keep track of our direction, thanks to Father’s geography lessons. Now we’re heading northeast toward Thailand. We’ll soon reach the hilly country, where tribal people plant rice. Father used to tell me about people like the Shan, the Wa, and the Kayah, who call themselves the Karenni. The government is trying to get rid of them and take their land, but they have a right to be a part of our country. After all, they’ve lived here for centuries.
    The bus begins to swerve as the road curves uphill. A chilly breeze blows through the top half of the window, and I struggle to close it. The street boy sits up and reaches to help. Our eyes meet briefly. He looks even younger now than when I first spotted him. How old is he, anyway?
    “My sons,” the captain says suddenly in a loud voice. “Tell these new recruits our policy about escaping from camp.”
    “I will, Father,” Win Min answers, jumping to his feet and lowering his head. Why does he call that man his father? “You won’t try to escape, believe me. You’ll be guarded until your training is finished, in case one of you is stupid enough to try. The six of us are the captain’s best men in this platoon. He counts on us like sons. A few of you could rise through the ranks and join us. If you’re brave enough, that is.”
    The boy beside me grunts. “We’re going to a military camp,” he mutters. “Ready to be a soldier?”
    A
soldier? Me? No!
I
can’t fight! I have to get off this bus!
But we’re already miles from the city, climbing higher into the mountains along the border. I swallow hard and rest my head against the glass.
    A voice whispers near my ear: “We’ll escape. I’ll find a way.”
    If I