you might try thinkingabout being Good. About doing Good. Yes?”

Arul, who’s even a bit older, are allowed to stay for abit, until we have a safe, sure place to move to.

but it was hard for me to actlike I was in good spirits.

His words felt like a warm ray of sunshine slipping in through arain-soaked sky.

I ate and slept, but hardly spoke to the other girls in my room or tothe boys who slept in another part of the house

wrote to Amma, but I didn’t tell Celina Aunty whom I waswriting to

“I hope so, Viji. Most people do, but . . .”

“Of course I’ll help.” Celina Aunty took the money. “And I’llkeep this safe for you.”

“Help!” I shook it until it jangled loudly, and a woman came out.Celina Aunty.

But that night, I couldn’t pretend anymore. We couldn’t denyyou were worse.

I wondered ifmy lie about Kutti not loving us enough to stay had hurt you worsethan if I’d pretended he’d died.

Maybe Kutti wanted a better life, so he left.

Then I remembered how Amma had shielded you from doctorsand hospitals.

I didn’t want to. I had no right to. I couldn’t do it.I could.I had to

But hunger was clawing so fiercely at mystomach that I shut my eyes, scooped up a handful of the swill, andstuck it in my mouth.

“Her fever’s worse, I think,” Muthu said. His own eyes still hada feverish glaze.

Then they moved apart, and we went to work, trying to dredgeout at least a few bottles or tins from the sea of sewage.

“Thought he went on holiday?” Kumar gave a bitter laugh. “Hegot sick from something. Kept vomiting and then . . .”

“You three stay here,” Arul said. “I’ll work alone today.”

but I wasn’t sure he was right aboutCelina Aunty.

“Maybe we should go see the lady we met in church—CelinaAunty—tomorrow,” I said. “We could go to school and—”

But in spite of the cough syrup, you weren’t any better the nextmorning.

You were shivering and coughing, but you started stringingbeads while we sang out, “Bead necklaces, pretty bead necklaces!”

Not that it mattered. “I told you he wasn’t for sale.”

“Please, Mummy,” the girl wheedled, like she hadn’t heard me.Did she think poor, low-caste kids like us didn’t count?

I suggested. “At least if he chases usaway again, we might get another orange.”

“Daring each other to explore a‘haunted’ graveyard?”

“Tastes worse than poison,” hesputtered, swallowing it only after I promised to reward him with acookie.

“Rukku,” I said, “will you teach me to make necklaces?”

Good for your souls,” I said. “But can we please use what’s leftof our money to take care of our stomachs, too?”

“We’ll be all right,” Arul said. “We can buy more beads, and youcan try to make a go of Rukku’s necklace business, like you’dwanted

“Yes. The graveyard is safer,” Arul said. “No one will look for usthere.”

“Good,” Arul said. “We should go and see what’s left—ifanything—of our stuff.”

The cow edged away, but you rolled up one of the empty bananaleaves and held it out to the cow.

“So good,” Arul mumbled with his mouth full. “Try some,Rukku.” We were all so hungry that Arul had forgotten aboutpraying.

The crowd of guests stood and showered the couple with rosepetals. “Perfect timing,” Arul said. “They’ll move to the dining roomnext. It’s around the back. Come on.”

You shivered for a long time, whether from fear or being wet bythe cool drizzle, I wasn’t sure. When you finally grew still, I thoughtyou’d fallen asleep. But then you said, “Story?”

graveyard.

“Our money!” Muthu gasped. “I’ve got to go back for it.”

“They live on the bridge,” Sridar volunteered.

Arul’s eyes shone, bright as themoonlit river.

“She didn’t say that at all. Arul, don’t you think we should savesome money?”

“Sell necklaces.” You sounded very pleased with yourself. “Getmoney. Get balloon.”

“Don’t you want me to come and keep an eye on the scales tomake sure the waste man doesn’t cheat us?”

We walked beyond the wide, tree-lined avenues of the richneighborhoods near the temple and the house where the gardenerthrew the orange at us, past smaller houses and shops whereloudspeakers blared hit songs, and reached the poorest section ofthe city I’d yet seen.

“Viji, I’m sorry. I see you’re trying to protect your sister, but Ibet she can do more than you think.”

I didn’t say, I don’t want to become an expert ragpicker. I wantto be a teacher.

Kutti stayed by your side.

“Rukku will bring beads.” You patted your bead bag.

“When we grow up, I want to be a teacher,”

bag of beads that Teashop Aunty had given us.

No! That’s everything we have!”

“Maybe someone will want a maid,” she said. “But don’t be tootrusting. The world’s not always a kind place for two poor girls likeyou.”

The demon tried to catch us, but we ran away and found a place—this new place where he can’t find us.

“Don’t use too much,” she said. “Or he’ll be shouting at us.”I liked that she said us, though she didn’t even know my nameyet.

There was a bit of coconuthusk that I could use to scrape the dishes clean, and a tin ofpowdered soap.

“Come, Rukku.”“No.” You dug in your heels.“Rukku, come!” I stepped into the bus.“No, no, no,” you sang out. “No.”

All she’d done was beg. I would never becomelike her, I promised myself. I’d never beg anyone for anything.

Talking to you was always easy, Rukku. But writing’s hard.

Not that you’d care whether it was true or not. For you, thingswere real that the rest of us couldn’t see or hear.When I finished the story, you’d say, “Viji and Rukku together?”“Always.” I was confident.Our togetherness was one of the few things I had faith in.