Golden Boy by Tara Sullivan Page B

sister talking in the kitchen, she contacts her favorite
mganga
and promises him any price for this medicine. Are you following along, Dhahabo?” I jerk the stool up to my chest from where it’s been slipping when he says my name. Alasiri just smiles and keeps talking in that low, singsong storyteller voice.
    â€œThe
mganga
agrees and calls up his favorite hunter. He’s pleased when he learns that the hunter already knows this boy. And so it’s agreed. For a very great deal of money, in American dollars, the hunter will bring the boy to the
m
ganga,
and the Msembos will have all the luck they need.” Alasiri’s eyes muse over me once again.
    â€œYour family named you well when they called you Dhahabo, for you might as well be made of gold. Pure gold,” he says quietly, as if to himself. His eyes lock onto mine.
    With a start I realize that he’s much closer than he was before. I’ve let my nerves get the better of me and have frozen in place again. As he talked, he has closed the distance between us, and now he’s only just a little farther than arm’s length away. Instantly, I snap the stool out a little, shaking it at him, and take a few quick steps backward. My shoulders crash into the wall. No, not the wall. I can feel the latch handle bruising my ribs. I have managed to back up into the door.

9.
    Once, when I was only five, I tried to get away with taking off my clothes in the middle of the day. I peeled off the long-sleeved layers Asu and Mother had put me in before they left to work in the maize fields and I ran down to the river. I flapped my arms up and down as I ran and let the breeze I made by running cool me. I got to the river and let my white, white toes sink into the dark mud of the riverbank. I smoothed the dirt up my ankles and wondered what I’d look like if my skin was the good color of the river mud instead of the color of cow bones. But my strange face peered up at me from the surface of the water until I dove in to make it scatter away.
    All that afternoon I played in the sunny pools rather than the shaded ones. It felt wonderful. The water sparkled every time I splashed it into the air, and the sun fell over my bare shoulders like a warm blanket.
    But that night, I was miserable. It was as if my skin had pulled in all the heat of the day and wouldn’t let it go. I was bright red and had a terrible headache, and my skin was tight all over, like I was being pinched by the hot hands of an angry god.
    At first both Mother and Asu gave me a terrible scolding because I had disobeyed them, but when Asu saw that I was in pain, she softened.
    â€œYou mustn’t ever do this again, Habo,” she said. “The sun is jealous of you. If you go out, he’ll burn you again. Stay inside where it’s dark.” And Asu had held me and sung to me while she rubbed my skin with aloe and goat butter. Mother stood off to the side and told her if she missed a spot. Asu rubbed and sang, rubbed and sang, until I fell asleep. The heat from the burns dried the tears off my face, and in the morning there was nothing left but dry tracks down to my ears that crinkled when I moved.
    As I stand here, facing Alasiri, that morning comes to me with such clarity that for a moment I am blinded by the sparkle of the river. There have been many times that my differences caused me pain. But I never thought that they would be the reason for my death. Now, with Alasiri staring down at me with a mad sheen in his eyes and a hunting knife in his hand, I know I’m going to die.
    No! You’re not going to die!
I yell at myself.
Think! Think of a way out of this!
    But in order to reach behind me and unlatch the door, I’ll have to let go of one side of the stool. If the stool slips, will I give him the chance he needs to stab me?
    Noticing that I’ve finally hit something and can’t retreat anymore, Alasiri moves. His grip on the knife tightens. His left arm