A Crack in the Sea by H. M. Bouwman

Author:H. M. Bouwman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2016-11-14T13:49:15+00:00

4

ENGINE GROWLING on real fuel, they headed south, flush with food and water. Though they were still on rations, Thanh wasn’t parched, just thirsty; and he wasn’t starved, just hungry. Not like he hadn’t been hungry before—almost every day since his father had been taken to the prison camp. Some days he’d worked for the rice farmer down the road, but the farmer didn’t always need him. And since Sang didn’t make a lot of money from her sewing, their bellies had often gnawed at night, especially if Uncle Truc and his wife, Aunt Duyen, had had a hard day, too—then there would be nothing to share among them. Today was certainly not worse than those days. There are harder things than being on a boat, Thanh thought. We’re almost there, we braved a storm, and we have enough food and water and fuel to make it to a port. And what a story it will make! He could already hear it in his head: The ocean reached over the vessel and struck our faces with her icy fingers—

“Hey, spacey,” said Mai. There was no malice in her tone, just matter-of-fact truth. “Do you see something?” She shaded her eyes and stared in the direction he was looking, then shook her head when she realized nothing was out there. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Nothing.” Then, when she turned her intense dark eyes to him, he added, “Just . . . daydreaming.” He waited for her to say something teasing or blunt. But she didn’t.

She said, “I wish I could daydream more, like you. Instead, I just worry. And plan.” She shook her head.

He was surprised at the almost compliment she’d paid him. “You shouldn’t worry. We’re going to be okay.” He reached out, almost touched her shoulder like they were friends, and then pulled his hand back.

“Promise?” Her mouth twisted wryly.

“Promise.” He crossed and re-crossed his pinkies.

Mai smiled—that slow, bonfire-lighting smile—and walked away to take the engine for Uncle Hung. At Uncle Hung’s suggestion, Thanh scooted over to the rice pot to open food with Mai’s knife, thinking they’d eat canned carrots (which The Turtle loved).

But just as Sang sat next to him with The Turtle, Mai called out, “Boat!”

Everyone froze for a moment. Sang looked up at Mai, who was peering at the horizon intently, hand still on the tiller. Squinting, Uncle Hung stood and shaded his eyes and frowned deeply; Uncle Truc staggered to his feet. Everyone looked. The boat was far off, hard to see. A fishing boat? It seemed to be moving toward them. Quickly.

Suddenly Uncle Hung took the tiller and swung the engine around. “Let’s go.” They began to head back north.

“What—?” asked Thanh.

No one answered, but Sang said to Uncle Truc, who half stood in the boat, “Is it—?”

Uncle Truc said, “Maybe just fishermen. Maybe not.” He turned to them. “All of you get down.” He gestured at the young people. His glance rested on Sang and his face softened. “Now is a good time to cut your hair.

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