Lucy Read Online Free PDF Page A

soldiers left, but the others were frightened and stayed away. Lucy ran into the hut and saw her father lying on the floor. She fell on him and wept. Then she found Leda behind the curtain and held her and cried.
    She couldn’t remember how long she lay like that. Her mouth grew dry from crying. Her eyes hurt. Then Jenny came.
    •  •  •
    Lucy had dozed off. She woke to find that the moon had gone. The light was coming. She had loved the first moments of morning in the jungle, the crescendo of voices in the trees; the rising smells of life around her; the big cats flowing through the forest in the dim light; and then the drama of the sun pushing thin cylinders of light through the murk as if searching for something. As she watched the light swell behind the window, she felt sad for the sun. It had grown so weak. She feared that its fire might go out and then everything would freeze. She was aware that it was a childish thought. Her father had taught her all about the cosmos. But she was unable to control her thoughts at times.
    She lay in bed trying not to think at all. But a word rose to the surface: School. Her father, who had been her only teacher, had told her about school, but she still had no idea what it might be like. She worried that there would be too many people. It would be loud. Everything in this new place was loud. Already she could hear the roaring of the road. Sometimes men came in the day with frightful machines to cut the grass up and down the street and blow everything around with a terrible noise. Lucy hid in her room and trembled when they came.
    Now she could smell Jenny’s coffee. She had heard her rise a while ago. Jenny had tried to tiptoe to the bathroom. But Lucy could hear her. Lucy thought it no wonder that Jenny didn’t know how to be quiet. How could she when she lived in such a loud place? Lucy knew quiet. Termites, she thought. Termites are quiet even when they’re making their sounds. Quiet sounds.
    When Jenny and Lucy had arrived after their long journey, Jenny had showed her this room. By that time they had been on the move for many days. Lucy had worn clothes the entire time, but the moment she was left alone, she took them off and reveled in the feeling of freedom once more. She had stood looking around at the strange room, which was populated with things that she’d seen only in books: The framed prints of Monet’s water lilies on the wall, the vase with dried weeds in it, a decorative rug, a writing desk, lamps, the big bed with the flowered bedspread, a box of tissues, and an electric radio that told the time in lighted red digits.
    That first day, she had crossed the room naked and approached the floor lamp. She turned it on. Then she turned it off. She switched it on and off and on and off over and over, marveling at the light, feeling its heat. So much light, she thought. The street was brightly lit all night like a stage set for a play. But no one ever came. Her father had rationed the light. They often didn’t have enough fuel for the generator. But when they did, he would make light in the evening and play music on an old machine and teach Lucy to sing arias.
    That first day in her new home, Lucy had heard a sound as she switched the lamp on and off. She stopped to listen. It was faint, coming from the floor. She moved toward it, listening: It was termites. Quiet but not silent. A pleasant and familiar sound. Something was living after all, eating the house. Lucy took a straw from the vase of dead weeds and went to the wall, smiling to herself, thinking about what her father had always said: Life will find a way. She worked the straw into a small gap where the wall met the floor. She’d had to eat such strange foods since leaving the forest. She thought that termites might be a welcome treat.
    As she squatted on the floor, listening and fishing with the straw, Jenny came to the door. “Good morning, Lucy. What are you doing?”
    “Looking for