Sparkers by Eleanor Glewwe Page A

he continues, “you are all familiar with the disease, whose symptoms include chills, fever, aches, and respiratory difficulties. In many ways, it resembles influenza or pneumonia, but the illness can be diagnosed with certainty due to the darkening of the patient’s irises.
    â€œI understand the anxiety this epidemic is causing the people of Ashara. I regret to say that we do not yet know what the origin of the disease is, but on behalf of the entire Assembly, I pledge to determine the nature of the illness and develop a treatment for it as speedily as possible. The untimely death of Second Councilor Yitzchak has deeply saddened us all, and we are reminded that, kasir or halan, councilor or ordinary citizen, we are all at risk until a cure is found. We seek to honor his memory in working to treat the illness.”
    The halani around me shift restlessly while David lowers his head in a moment of reflection. So far this speech isn’t proving very helpful.
    When David next speaks, his tone is brisker. “My colleagues and I have appointed a committee of physicians to study the new disease. Its members are accountable to me, and I will personally oversee their work.” This statement garners a smattering of applause from the kasir section, but the woman digging her elbow into my ribs snorts.
    â€œI urge the public to resist panic,” the First Councilor says, his magnified voice steady and reassuring. “I am confident the people of Ashara will weather these difficult days as we weathered the beginning of the cold times so long ago. I ask only for your patience.”
    But how long can we wait for a cure?
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    I VISIT L EAH every day after school. I wash my hands when I arrive at the Avrams’ apartment and again before I leave. Gadi Yakov constantly warns me not to sit too close to Leah. I think she’d prefer I stay away entirely, like the rest of her children, but I’m already careful not to touch my friend. Besides, if I haven’t caught the dark eyes from her by now, I’m probably not going to.
    Leah’s fever has subsided for now, but she complains of achiness, and a nasty cough has set in. She can’t shake her exhaustion; a walk to the kitchen leaves her spent. The only task for which she can summon much energy is caring for Raspberry the house finch. Gadi Yakov brings her supplies so she can clean out his hatbox and replenish his food and water. I watch her rebind his wing, marveling at how gentle and nimble her fingers are and how he seems to trust her. I look forward to these moments because they make it easier not to think about how sick she is.
    Once, though, I suggest taking care of the bird is tiring her out. Leah rolls her eyes.
    â€œIf it weren’t for Raspberry, I’d have died of boredom by now.”
    Often she’s not awake when I arrive, so I do my homework on the bedroom floor. When she does wake up, she’s too weak to talk much, so I tell her about Sarah the kasir girl, describing in detail the dinner at the Rashids’ house. I also try to amuse her with stories from school.
    â€œAradi Mattan called me Leah this afternoon,” I say one day. “He’s so absentminded. It reminded me of when we were younger. Remember how people would always ask us if we were sisters?”
    Leah nods. We loved being mistaken for siblings.
    â€œThere was that old woman who sold mugs of pea soup at the Horiel market,” I recall. “We never corrected her. Then one day your mother overheard her telling us how she’d never seen two sisters get along so well . . .”
    â€œYes, and Mother scolded us for lying!” Leah says, lifting her head.
    We both giggle. Then Leah lets her head fall back onto the pillow and shuts her eyes.
    When I’m not at school or at the Avrams’, I’m busy preparing for my audition. I send my application off to Qirakh as Aradi Imael instructed me and throw