Jomon feels free. He feels like a baby goat, ready to kick and jump in a field.
He starts running and the others run with him. They move their legs and swing their arms, push air in and out of their lungs and crank their hearts up as fast as they’ll pump.
Jomon, Angel and Hi run until they can’t run another step, and then they walk — not talking, just enjoying the rhythm of one foot in front of the other.
Jomon has never been out in this type of darkness, away from streetlights, with the stars looking so bright and so close he can almost jump and bump them with his head. He has never been on a long walk like this before. He is surprised to realize that he is actually enjoying himself, moving through his country with his two feet and his heartbeat.
Days can get hot in Guyana, even with the lovely winds coming in from the sea. The boys walk on the open road as long as they can, but as morning brightens the sky, they shift to pathways through the bush that run parallel to the road. From here they can more easily duck and cover if they see the police.
This path is safer, but it also traps the air and super heats it with humidity from the plants.
In the middle of the day, Hi makes them stop.
“We need to rest,” he tells Jomon. “We need food and water.”
Jomon knows Hi is right but he doesn’t know what to do about it. Where are they going to sleep? What are they going to eat? He has no money.
“The land will feed us,” Hi says. He leads them off the path to a secluded spot by a pond. There is shade and a large mossy boulder nearby to give them privacy.
The boys sweep the ground with their feet to scare away any snakes. Then they stretch out. The boulder is covered with a strange, bristly moss, and it feels warm and soft. Everyone dozes off.
Some time later, Jomon wakes with a start. The highest heat of the day has passed. The afternoon is thinking about slowly meandering into evening.
Hi has a small fire burning. He’s caught three little fish and has them roasting on sticks over coals. Also in the coals are coconut half-shells full of boiled water.
“This one’s cooled a bit,” says Angel, holding a shell full of water out to Jomon. “Don’t gulp it, though. It’s still hot.”
Jomon sips and feels the water flood into his cells. It is the best drink of water he has ever had.
“Fish is almost ready,” says Hi.
Jomon spots a mango tree and picks three ripe mangoes to add to their meal.
The three boys sit around the fire. Hi hands a big leaf full of roasted fish to Jomon and another one to Angel.
Jomon alternates fingers full of crispy fish with bites of sweet mango. Juice runs down his chin.
It all tastes so good! He’s eaten only awful jail food for days. His mother taught him how to cook a little bit when she was alive, but he never really paid attention. Why had he never thought to cook food over a fire? He could learn how to cook good meals. Then he and Dad could sit around the fire and eat and —
“Dev, eat your fish.”
Jomon notices that Angel hasn’t touched his food.
“Dev!” orders Hi. “I cooked that for you. Eat it!”
Angel picks up the leaf with the roasted fish on it and hands it to Jomon. He gets up from the fire and walks away.
“I did the best I could for you, Dev Fowler,” Hi calls after him. “There’s no pleasing you. What more could I do?”
“You could call him by his name,” says Jomon.
“His name?” Hi repeats. “Everyone calls him Dev. Everyone laughs about it!”
“Just because everyone laughs doesn’t make it funny,” says Angel.
Father and son glare at each other. Hi is the first to soften his face.
“That’s just what your mother would have said,” Hi says thoughtfully.
He stands up, takes the leaf full of fish from Jomon and holds it out to Angel.
“We’ve got a long way to go,” he says. “Better eat up ... Angel.”
Angel’s shoulders relax. He eats the fish. They put out the fire and head back out on their journey — walking, walking, walking.