Bringing the Boy Home Read Online Free Page B

sprinting full force toward the river as they raced to be the first ones in. I think about how I used to pound on a hollow wooden bucket while the other kids learned the Takunami hunting dances, and how I used to sit at the base of the kapok tree while they climbed and tried to reach the sky.
    â€œClimb a kapok tree,” I finally say.
    â€œA kapok,” she repeats.
    I nod slowly, knowing what she’s thinking: the kapok is one of the tallest trees in the Amazon. “I want to do it all,” I say. The determination comes out in my voice as I realize the possibilities. “I want to do everything I couldn’t do before.”
    â€œOkay,” Sara says quietly. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”
    As we sit together, wrapping the gifts, Sara chatters on about how much she’s looking forward to getting away from the traffic in the city and how she can’t wait to see all her old friends again. I nod and pretend to listen, but in my mind, I’m still thinking about my answer: I want to do it all.
    The doorbell rings and while Sara quickly puts everything away, I let Professor Goodwin in. Pretending to be exhausted from physical therapy, I say good night and haul my backpack upstairs. In truth, I want to be alone just as much as they do. I need to think.
    Crawling under the covers, I curl up onto my side and close my eyes. In the darkness, with only the murmur of voices below me, I am transported back to when I was a little boy in the jungle, lying in a hammock—squeezing my eyes shut and praying to the Good Gods to make me normal overnight. To help me run, dance, and climb.
    My prayers have been answered. My foot is better. I’ve been able to do everything a normal boy does. Everything a normal American boy does. But aren’t I a Takunami? I think about all the things that have been happening the past few days. Why now—a week before my thirteenth birthday? A week before I’m supposed to go back to the Amazon? There’s only one reason that I can think of.
    When I realize what I’m considering, I roll over onto my back and stare up at the rotating blades of the ceiling fan. Could I do it? Could I really take the test?
    Downstairs Sara laughs loudly, and my mind skids to a halt. I sit up. I can’t leave Sara. And even though she studies jungle tribes for a living, she would never let metake such a dangerous test. But the weight of this opportunity punches me in the gut—the chance to finally prove my father wrong—and I pull my knees into my chest.
    I have to go. Somehow, I’ll have to sneak out of our cabin in the Amazon and make my way back to my village. Alone. But maybe if I leave a note for Sara, at least she’ll know where I’ve gone and why I’m doing what I need to do.
    Hopping out of bed, I switch on my desk lamp and pull out a sheet of paper. I can’t sleep now, so I begin to write:
    Dear Sara,
    A couple of days before we left on this trip, you asked me what I was looking forward to the most about going back. And I told you that I wanted to do things normal Takunami boys do, remember? Well, there’s one other thing that every normal Takunami boy does, and as you read this, I’m on my way to make that happen. I’m going back to my village to take my soche seche tente. I promise to comeback as soon as I’m finished. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.
    I hear footsteps downstairs. Sneaking over to my door, I crack it open and see Sara and Professor Goodwin standing in the hallway. He’s got his jacket on, which means that he’s leaving. Sara cautiously peers around the huge palm tree and looks up toward my room. I jerk my head back behind the door and hold my breath. I hear her laugh softly and then Professor Goodwin’s low baritone. The front door clicks closed, and after a minute of silence, I hear glasses being put into the sink. Knowing she’ll be coming to bed soon, I tiptoe over to