over Aaron as he leans in and cups the pony’s clamped mouth in his hands. Shareen watches the pony grunt a last breath and flop to the ground before scooting home as if her life depends on it.
The reins loose in his hands, Lijah can’t believe his eyes. A pony is a precious animal that can’t easily be replaced, and the fear on his face reflects what they and everyone watching is thinking: That family’s finished now.
Chapter Seven
Concrete Walls
The lane is jammed with people climbing over filth and crossing themselves as they gather and mutter in singsong voices over the corpse of the dead pony. Eyeball to eyeball, they shake their heads as Aaron and Lijah wearily lug the fallen bags out of their way to unload what’s left on the cart.
As the sun beats down on the pony’s thin, bony shape, a doom-laden feeling settles over everyone watching. To lose a pony is too terrible for words. But by the time the stepbrothers fling the last bags at the walls of a nearby building, people’s interest finally peters out. There’s work to be done and they begin to wander off.
An eerie silence falls until the sound of wheels, echoing like a rickety train, starts up in the distance, getting louder as it heads toward them. Soon Shareen theatrically bursts into view, as if coming onto a stage, pushing the wheelbarrow with elbows akimbo.
“You can pay me later.” Unpredictable as ever, Shareen touches Aaron’s arm with the wheelbarrow’s smooth, metal handle.
“Thanks,” he says, and means it. “After we’ve figured out what to do with the pony, you might want to help us carry the bags home in the wheelbarrow.”
Like a princess, she looks down her nose at him. “You’ll be lucky.”
Aaron notices her glowing skin, the strands of gleaming, curly hair plastered to her neck as she swirls her eyes from him, to Lijah, then to the pony and friends in the thinning crowd. Humming with satisfaction, she hugs herself at the sight of so much unexpected drama. But sadly her center-stage moment is cut short when the Mebaj brothers” cart turns into the lane. The Mebaj family don’t swear, curse or drink. They’re the opposite of Aaron’s family.
Just before they reach the crowd, the elder brother pulls the reins and they rattle to a stop.
“What’s going on?” He can’t imagine what’s behind the sad faces walking toward them. All he can see is Lijah, Aaron, and Shareen in the distance.
“Go back,” Abe warns, appearing from a side alley. “There’s something not very nice in the way.”
The Mebaj brothers climb down to push through, curling their lips like pirates at the sight of the pony stretched out in the middle of the path. With only twelve months between them, the brothers act more like twins, and when one pulls a face, the other says what they’re both thinking: “Get the pony on the wheelbarrow!”
The idea’s too much for Aaron. It’s not going to work. Staring at the pony’s limp body, at the skin and bones swarming with flies, he can’t bear to touch it. In a temper, Lijah wrenches the barrow’s handles from Aaron and roughly guides it alongside the corpse. The animal looks ridiculously huge compared to the size of the barrow, which is less than a third of its length. It’s a stupid situation. One or two kids laugh and issue instructions about the best way forward. But there’s only one way to do this. With a superhuman effort, Lijah begins to swing the pony’s hind legs in the air.
“What are you waiting for?” he yells at Aaron.
Having no choice in the matter, Aaron bends over the horse’s chunky mouth and touches the hard skull.
“Not the head, you idiot,” Lijah screams. “Your end.” Aaron drops the head with a thump and grabs the warm body. With a quick shuffle, he reaches under the furry skin and, swallowing his feelings of revulsion, grunts as he tries to lift the pony from the ground. It’s heavier than he thought and he staggers awkwardly until Simon lends a hand by
The reins loose in his hands, Lijah can’t believe his eyes. A pony is a precious animal that can’t easily be replaced, and the fear on his face reflects what they and everyone watching is thinking: That family’s finished now.
Chapter Seven
Concrete Walls
The lane is jammed with people climbing over filth and crossing themselves as they gather and mutter in singsong voices over the corpse of the dead pony. Eyeball to eyeball, they shake their heads as Aaron and Lijah wearily lug the fallen bags out of their way to unload what’s left on the cart.
As the sun beats down on the pony’s thin, bony shape, a doom-laden feeling settles over everyone watching. To lose a pony is too terrible for words. But by the time the stepbrothers fling the last bags at the walls of a nearby building, people’s interest finally peters out. There’s work to be done and they begin to wander off.
An eerie silence falls until the sound of wheels, echoing like a rickety train, starts up in the distance, getting louder as it heads toward them. Soon Shareen theatrically bursts into view, as if coming onto a stage, pushing the wheelbarrow with elbows akimbo.
“You can pay me later.” Unpredictable as ever, Shareen touches Aaron’s arm with the wheelbarrow’s smooth, metal handle.
“Thanks,” he says, and means it. “After we’ve figured out what to do with the pony, you might want to help us carry the bags home in the wheelbarrow.”
Like a princess, she looks down her nose at him. “You’ll be lucky.”
Aaron notices her glowing skin, the strands of gleaming, curly hair plastered to her neck as she swirls her eyes from him, to Lijah, then to the pony and friends in the thinning crowd. Humming with satisfaction, she hugs herself at the sight of so much unexpected drama. But sadly her center-stage moment is cut short when the Mebaj brothers” cart turns into the lane. The Mebaj family don’t swear, curse or drink. They’re the opposite of Aaron’s family.
Just before they reach the crowd, the elder brother pulls the reins and they rattle to a stop.
“What’s going on?” He can’t imagine what’s behind the sad faces walking toward them. All he can see is Lijah, Aaron, and Shareen in the distance.
“Go back,” Abe warns, appearing from a side alley. “There’s something not very nice in the way.”
The Mebaj brothers climb down to push through, curling their lips like pirates at the sight of the pony stretched out in the middle of the path. With only twelve months between them, the brothers act more like twins, and when one pulls a face, the other says what they’re both thinking: “Get the pony on the wheelbarrow!”
The idea’s too much for Aaron. It’s not going to work. Staring at the pony’s limp body, at the skin and bones swarming with flies, he can’t bear to touch it. In a temper, Lijah wrenches the barrow’s handles from Aaron and roughly guides it alongside the corpse. The animal looks ridiculously huge compared to the size of the barrow, which is less than a third of its length. It’s a stupid situation. One or two kids laugh and issue instructions about the best way forward. But there’s only one way to do this. With a superhuman effort, Lijah begins to swing the pony’s hind legs in the air.
“What are you waiting for?” he yells at Aaron.
Having no choice in the matter, Aaron bends over the horse’s chunky mouth and touches the hard skull.
“Not the head, you idiot,” Lijah screams. “Your end.” Aaron drops the head with a thump and grabs the warm body. With a quick shuffle, he reaches under the furry skin and, swallowing his feelings of revulsion, grunts as he tries to lift the pony from the ground. It’s heavier than he thought and he staggers awkwardly until Simon lends a hand by
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