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The part she didn’t spend on taking care of us. I used to say Zelda was small time. Whenever she had a big payout, she became the biggest over-tipper on the planet. I guess I’m doing the same thing, only in my own way.
Maybe we’re not small time. Maybe we’re just afraid of Karma. That bitch.
“You miss her.” It’s not a question. Clare is smiling in a knowing way.
I return her smile. “She’s my sister.”
A bell rings, and I see Rashida standing on the porch. “Lunch.” Clare rises. “Do you want to see what they’re having?”
“I trust you’re feeding them well, but sure.” Then I laugh. “Let’s see if they even like it.”
The children are off the playground and in the house almost as soon as they see Rashida. We’re still climbing the steps as they’re filtering around us.
“Looks like they don’t have any complaints,” I add.
Inside, they sit at small tables and a part-time helper carries out plates of meat beside a small scoop of mashed potatoes, a triangle of cheese, and a plum. They all have small cartons of milk. I watch as they eat at various rates of speed. Some of the children devour their meals without a breath. Others, like Suad, eat the cheese and the roll. Some eat the meat only, while others eat the potatoes or the plum.
“At least everyone’s eating something,” I say, checking Clare’s expression.
“Considering all they’ve been through, they’re doing very well,” she agrees. “It helps they’re a small group. Several of the local farms have donated fresh fruits and cheeses for them.”
“See?” I nudge her with my elbow. “That’s good news. There is still hope.”
She shrugs and finally allows a smile. “I suppose you’re right.”
“It’s like the starfish story.”
Her slim brows pull together. “I don’t know that one.”
“Oh, it’s a good one. I’ll tell you,” I laugh. “An old man is walking on a beach that’s covered in starfish—thousands of them washing up on shore.”
“Why are they doing that?” Clare asks. “Was it a red tide? Low oxygen?”
“I don’t know, but the point is, the man starts picking up the starfish one at a time and throwing them back into the ocean… even as more continue washing up around him.”
“It must seem futile,” she says.
“So a boy walks up and says basically that. He says, ‘You should stop because what you’re doing doesn’t make a difference.’”
We’ve reached the door, and I see Hajib waiting for me. Clare pauses at the entrance. “And?”
“The old man only picks up another starfish and throws it into the ocean. Then he replies, ‘It made a difference to that one.’”
She’s quiet at first, thinking, then her lips press together into a smile. I give her a hug goodbye. “One at a time. I’ll send you another list in the next few days.”
Chapter 3
Rowan
Logan sits to my right, Freddie is across from me on his laptop, and Reggie is plotting our position in this volatile political climate.
“Years ago it was Somalia, then it was Bosnia. Refugee crises are always with us,” my uncle emphasizes. I’m focused on the map covering the table in front of us, my fingers steepled in front of my mouth. “Monagasco is a tiny country. We are not expected to engage in such matters.”
My palms go to the glossy surface, and I push out of my chair. “Exactly. We are not expected to engage. Which means we don’t need to make some announcement that will complicate matters when the dust settles.”
“If we are disengaged, we must disengage entirely.” Reggie is the same height as me, and we have the same blue eyes, which are now locked in silent battle.
“What does that mean?” I demand.
