Parvana's Journey Read Online Free PDF Page B

I’m the best big sister in the whole world.”
    “They’re probably jumping for joy that you’re lost out here, because they’ll never have to see you again.”
    Parvana plopped the howling Hassan into Asif’s lap. “You think you can do better? Go ahead and try.”
    Hassan immediately stopped crying. Parvana stared, open-mouthed, as the rage disappeared from Asif’s face when Hassan’s little fingers reached up and grabbed his nose.
    “Go find my crutches,” he said to Parvana.
    She was about to yell at him for ordering her about, but the crutches seemed like a good idea.
    “Where are they?”
    “If I knew, I wouldn’t tell you to go and look for them,” he said with annoying logic.
    She found them a little ways from the mouth of the cave. They were not together.
    He must have dropped them while he was escaping from whatever was chasing him, she thought. She took the crutches down to the stream.
    Asif was sitting in the stream in his clothes, holding onto Hassan. The baby gurgled as Asif rubbed him clean.
    She put the crutches down and opened a bundle to take out clean clothes for Hassan. Under the baby’s clothes was her spare shalwar kameez. She took that out, too, then got the bar of rose soap from her father’s shoulder bag. She unwrapped the soap and put the wrapping back in the bag. It smelled nice.
    “You might want this,” she said, putting the soap and clothes on the edge of the stream. She added a clean diaper for Hassan. “Don’t eat the soap,” she couldn’t help adding in a slightly nasty tone.
    Asif took the soap from her, but ignored her comment. He was too busy playing with the baby.
    Parvana went downstream a little ways and scrubbed Hassan’s clothes with sand. She was spreading clean wet diapers in the sun to dry when Asif called out, “He’s clean. Take him.”
    She waited for Asif to hand the baby over to her, then realized he didn’t have the strength to do so. She waded into the stream and picked Hassan up.
    “Now go away, so I can wash in private.”
    She took Hassan to the mouth of the cave and dressed him there. He looked rosy and cheerful from his bath. There was still some stale bread left, and she gave him a small piece to chew on.
    “Hey, stupid one. Get over here!”
    I don’t have to answer him, she thought.
    “I said, get over here.”
    Parvana played a little clapping game with Hassan and ignored the boy in the stream.
    “I can’t remember your name,” Asif said in a tone that wasn’t quite so nasty.
    Parvana picked up Hassan and went down to the stream. Asif had taken off his shirt and tossed it on the shore. He was slumped over, almost as though he couldn’t hold himself up any more. His hair was full of soap.
    Parvana fetched one of the drinking cups and waded into the stream. He turned his face away from her when she came up behind him.
    She gasped when she saw the scars that criss-crossed his back. Some were old and were now a permanent part of his body. Some were fresh, still scabby and infected.
    He really was being chased by a monster, Parvana thought.
    “Don’t just stand there,” he growled.
    “Put your head back.” She dipped the cup into the stream. “Close your eyes,” she ordered, “and your mouth.” Then, doing for Asif what her mother used to do for her, she rinsed the soap out of his hair.
    The effort of washing wore Asif out. He fell asleep in the sun soon after putting on Parvana’s spare shalwar kameez.
    With the laundry done and spread on the rocks to dry, Parvana put Hassan down on a blanket and took out her notebook and pen.
    Dear Shauzia:
    It’s getting harder and harder to remember what you look like. Sometimes when I think of you, I can only picture you in your blue school uniform with the white chador, back when we were students in Kabul. You had long hair then. So did I.
    Sometimes I put my hand behind me on my back and try to remember how far down my hair grew. I think I know, but I could be wrong.
    It’s hard to