Read Online Running the Rift by Naomi Benaron - Free Book Online

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    Bodies pressed in. A book thumped against Jean Patrick’s back, hard enough to knock the wind from him. Fists hit his head, but his attention was on protecting his legs and feet. The pain in his foot made even standing difficult, and shifting his weight brought a rush of dizziness. Albert grabbed him by the sweater and twisted until the collar squeezed his throat and he struggled to breathe. From the corner of his eye, he saw Daniel lifted like a sack of sorghum.
    At that moment, Uwimana burst into the room, two policemen behind him. Suddenly, Jean Patrick was back at his old house on a December afternoon, hearing these same two policemen tell him that his papa had died.
    â€œLet those boys go!” Uwimana shouted.
    The stranglehold eased, but Albert still held on. His lips brushed Jean Patrick’s ear, and Jean Patrick smelled the rank, hot breath, sharp with urwagwa. “Don’t forget me, because I’m going to kill you,” Albert whispered. “That’s a promise.”
    â€œThis is still my school,” Uwimana said. “Your justice isn’t welcome while I’m in charge. All of you, get out.”
    The boys circled Uwimana. The policemen moved toward them, hands on their sticks.
    â€œBeware, icyitso,” Albert said, pointing at Uwimana. “Hutu Power memories are long.” They backed out the door, and the policemen followed. On the way out, one of the policemen nodded to Jean Patrick and gave him a hidden thumbs-up.
    Father Paul cleared his throat and peered out from behind his book as Uwimana approached his desk. Uwimana removed his glasses, cleaned them, and put them back on, speaking to Father Paul in a voice too low for Jean Patrick to hear.
    â€œWhat could I do?” Father Paul said loudly. “They were so many. And drunk. I could smell urwagwa from here.”
    â€œClass is canceled,” Uwimana said. “All Tutsi and anyone else who is hurt, stay behind.”
    Jean Patrick pressed against Daniel. “Help me walk. I have to fix my foot so I can run.” While Uwimana tended to Noel’s bloody nose, Jean Patrick leaned on Daniel and limped out.
    â€œThey could have really hurt you for defending me,” Jean Patrick said. He pulled off his shoe, and the wave of pain made him sweat. “Daniel, check my foot, eh? I’m afraid to look.”
    â€œAye! So swollen!” Daniel said.
    â€œLet’s get some tape. I have to race.”
    Daniel clucked his tongue. “Hutu Power tries to kill you, and all you think about is running.”
    â€œHutu Power.” Jean Patrick spit into the grass. “They’re just troublemakers. I don’t want to think about them anymore.”
    â€œIf you want to survive, you better think about them. Let’s find Coach.” Daniel stood and offered Jean Patrick a hand.
    Thick gray-black clouds descended over the forest, blocking the sun. Jean Patrick inhaled an oily smell. He sniffed again, and the stench hit him: not clouds but smoke darkened the sky. Houses were burning in the hills. Columns of smoke rose in all directions. Students and staff came running from the buildings.
    â€œWhat’s happening?” someone asked.
    â€œThey’re smoking out Inyenzi one by one,” another student replied, laughing.
    Jean Patrick lunged at the student and swung wildly. A blast from a horn froze him.
    â€œGet in,” Uwimana shouted. The truck’s smashed headlight glared like a punched eye. Noel sat beside him, head tilted back, a bloody cloth held to his nose. Somber-faced Tutsi students squeezed together in the bed of the truck. “Isaka says you’re hurt.”
    Jean Patrick shook his head, but Daniel spoke up. “Yes, Headmaster, he is.”
    â€œSit inside, then. Angelique will see to you. All Tutsi are coming to my house for the night. I’m not taking any chances.”
    â€œHeadmaster, I need to get home right away.” Jean Patrick