Chanda's Secrets Read Online Free Page A

evening, we’d sit together in the front yard and tell stories and laugh. Mama would rub Mr. Dube’s swollen feet as he cuddled Iris and Soly. I’d hug my knees and grin.
    We were happy like that for a while. Then one night Mr. Dube said he had an upset stomach. He lay down and never got up. It was a stroke. I cried for ages, but I tried to comfort myself that Mr. Dube was lucky. The stroke was sudden and painless. He didn’t suffer. I’d like to die like that.
    Sometimes I feel guilty about remembering Mr. Dube’s rotten teeth. He was so good to all of us. Looking back, I wish I’d been able to call him “papa.” My real papa wouldn’t have minded. And it would have meant so much to Mr. Dube. I hope he knew I loved him.

    Mama inherited the house, which gave us a place to live. She also started a vegetable garden and raised a few chickens in the front yard. But there was no money. Mr. Dube’s trips to the herbal doctor, and his funeral, had eaten most of his savings, and now Mama had three of us to support.
    I guess that’s how Jonah happened. Mama had a house, andhe had a job. He asked Mama to marry him, but she said no. She wanted to keep the ownership of Mr. Dube’s property to protect Iris, Soly, and me, in case things didn’t work out.
    Jonah was a friend of Mr. Tafa’s from the construction company. He was a big talker with a great smile, who poured concrete for malls and office buildings downtown. That is, until he got fired. Jonah liked to party and the company got tired of not knowing whether or not he’d show up for work.
    When Mama was pregnant with Sara, he was still making some money doing odd jobs. But since Sara’s birth and Mama’s miscarriages, he’s mainly just stayed at the shebeen getting drunk on shake-shake.
    That’s where he is now, I’ll bet.
5
    W HEN I GET BACK FROM THE E TERNAL L IGHT, it’s ten. Iris and Soly are in the front yard where I left them. Mama said Iris didn’t have to go to kindergarten today, so they know something important’s happened, only they’re not sure what.
    Soly sits quietly by the front door playing with his toes. Iris, on the other hand, is in one of her moods. She’s marching up and down the yard with a storm cloud over her head. When she sees me, she stalks up and plants her hands on her hips.
    â€œSara’s still sleeping. She’s been sleeping all morning. Make her stop.”
    â€œDon’t be such a bossy brat.”
    â€œI’m not,” she says, stomping her foot.
    â€œI mean it, Iris. Act your age or I’ll smack you.”
    â€œGo ahead,” she dares me. “I’ll tell.”
    When Iris gets like this, there’s no sense arguing. She’s too smart for her own good. And mine. “Why don’t you water the beans?”
    She yawns as if the reason is obvious.
    â€œFine,” I say. “Be bored if you like. I don’t care.”
    Iris sighs. “Get over here, Soly, I have a game. We’re going to see who can make the biggest pile of stones. Only they have to come from the front yard, and we can only pick them up with our elbows.”
    I go into the house. The shutters are open to keep out the death smell.
    Mama has braided Sara’s hair and laid her on the mattress that she shares with Jonah. She’s curled up beside her, stroking her cheek. I tell her about Mr. Bateman coming at one. I leave out the part about the service having to be on Thursday. “Mr. Bateman says not to worry, the funeral will be beautiful.”
    Mama doesn’t look up. “Go back to Mr. Bateman and tell him not to come. We can’t pay. Someone’s stolen the money from the hiding place.”
    Mama doesn’t say who stole it. She doesn’t have to.
    â€œIt’s not stolen, Mama,” I lie, to make her feel better. “I took it to Mr. Bateman for the deposit.”
    Mama shudders. “God forgive