8

ON A RUINED BRIDGE

A boy at least a head taller than me, though just as skinny as Muthu, was walking up the bridge. He had a wild mop of red-tinged black hair. A sack was slung across his shoulder, and he held a stick that was much sturdier and longer than Muthu’s.

“Who are you?” the tall boy said.

“Who are you?” I said, drawing myself up to full height.

“I told you,” Muthu said. “He’s the big boss.”

“What are you doing on our bridge?” the boy said.

“Your bridge? Why didn’t you build a better one? Like that?” I pointed at the newer bridge.

Kutti trotted over, sniffed at the tall boy’s bare feet, and then wagged his tail.

“Rukku.” You gave the tall boy a warm grin and poked yourself in the ribs, then jabbed me. “Viji.”

“I’m Arul.” He flashed you a smile and then tried to look all stern. “We live here.”

“So do we,” I said.

“Get out,” Arul said, so weakly that I guessed he was just putting on a show of protesting because Muthu was watching.

“We’re already outside, in case you haven’t noticed.” I waved at the starry sky above, the twinkling river below. “And I don’t need your permission to sleep here. It’s not like you inherited this from your dad.”

“Get your own tarp,” he said. It was as good as a yes.

“You’re going to let them stay, Arul?” Muthu said.

“We’re staying.” I gave him a smug smile. “No letting.”

Arul tickled Kutti behind the ears and then disappeared into his tent. Muthu crawled in after him.

I found a relatively rubble-free patch of ground and spread out our sheet. Not that it made the ground any softer.

“Amma,” you said, and looked all around us, as though our mother might pop out of the river and fly up through a hole in the bridge. “Amma?”

I put my arms around you, but you kept crying her name.

Kutti snuggled up to you, and you clutched one of his paws. He didn’t seem to mind.

Hugging him close, like you used to hug your doll, you finally lay down on our sheet. “Story?”

Maybe hearing the familiar words would help take your mind off Amma. And my mind off the bumpy ground.

Not wanting the boys to overhear, I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Once upon a time, two sisters ruled a magical land.”

“Viji and Rukku,” you put in.

“Yes. Us. We used to be princesses, the two of us. We slept on soft pink pillows in a beautiful palace. Every morning, we’d wake to the sound of birds singing and the sight of peacocks dancing. White lotuses shone bright as stars in the lake at the center of our green garden. From this lake, a silver stream slipped out beyond our palace gates into the rest of our kingdom.

“No one in our kingdom was ever thirsty, because everyone could drink from that sparkling stream. And no one in our kingdom was cruel. Grown-ups never fought, and every child had all the dolls and toys they ever wanted.”

“Dolls,” you echoed. I was afraid you’d ask for Marapachi again, but you didn’t start fussing.

“Every morning you made beautiful bead necklaces and I read you stories. We had hundreds and hundreds of books. Every afternoon we rode horses that could gallop so fast, we felt like we were flying.”

Usually, I told you more about our horses or the wonderful fruits that grew in the orchard, but that evening I changed the story and added a new part. “One day, an angry demon cast a spell over our kingdom. Plants withered, birds stopped singing, and the stream dried up.

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

“We won’t stay here forever. When we’re older and stronger, we’ll leave. Together, we’ll fight the demon, break his curse, and return to our lost kingdom, where we’ll be princesses again. Viji and Rukku,” I finished. “Always together.”

“Viji and Rukku together?” you asked.

“Always.”

“Viji and Rukku,” you repeated. “Always together.”

We had no roof or walls to keep us safe, and that probably should have worried me more, but you seemed content.

You pointed at the sky. “Look, Viji.”

“No roof means we get the best view of the pretty stars, right, Rukku?” I said.

“Pretty,” you agreed.

We lay shoulder to shoulder and watched the stars sparkle, while Kutti slept beside us. Your eyes sparkled, too, and the light inside them pierced through my fog of worry.