Telesa - The Covenant Keeper Read Online Free PDF Page B

country. I had to be there at 7:30 for assembly – or so Aunty Matile had informed me.
    Breakfast was the usual. Hunks of hot bread with slabs of butter melting onto the plate. A pot of thick, sweet kokosamoa that burned the tongue. Licking the butter drips off my fingers, I mused – no wonder Samoans were overweight and built like football players. If they ate carbs like this every day. Hmm … I would have to do something about making changes to the household diet if I wanted to stay the same size. Because this hot bread and koko thing was way too tempting to refuse every morning. Grabbing another piece of bread to savor in the car, I made sure to thank Aunty Matile for breakfast and wish her a ‘lovely day’ – and was rewarded by a fleeting smile from the usually sour-faced old woman.
    Uncle Tuala was giving me a ride to school – at least until I figured out the bus routes myself. I didn’t know how I was going to be able to do that since apparently there was no regular bus schedule … or any printed timetables … or even proper bus stops.
    “So, how do people catch the bus to school on time?” I asked, thoroughly puzzled.
    “Oh, you just look out for the right bus on the road and when you see it coming you wave at it and it stops. Then when the bus goes past where you want to go, you pull the wire and it stops.”
    “How can I be sure it will go where I want it to?”
    “Because. Everyone knows the way the bus goes. There’s not many different roads you know, Leila.”
    Okay. So catching buses would be one thing to add to my list of ‘what to learn if you want to live in this country.’ In the meantime, I would be suitably grateful to Uncle Tuala for taking me to school. Unbidden, a memory flashed of my car at home. The thoroughly-unlike-me, red Mazda Miata that Dad had bought for my last birthday. Completely shocking me. And terrifying me. How was I supposed to hold my head up high driving such an obviously wannabe preppy car? But he had insisted. Taking me for driving lessons on deserted roads so I could get used to it. Blasting the stereo with his country songs and deliberately embarrassing me by singing along to the music. Especially whenever we had pulled up next to cars with boys in them and Randy Travis soulful voice warbled through the trees.
    “Oh Dad, puh-leeeze stop that. You’re killing me here! You really don’t want me to have a social life at all do you? You want everyone at school to think I’m totally ridiculous … with a country singing dad singing off key AND driving a pukey cheerleader car.”
    I’d hated that car. But oh how I had sobbed when I sold it. Stood at the car lot and sobbed as if my heart would break. Sobbed so hard the dealer looked worried and offered me more money in an attempt to console me.
    “Here little lady, you want a better offer for it? Don’t cry, I can go up a little if you want.”
    His awkward attempts to comfort only adding to my grief. “No thank you, I don’t want more money. I want …” I wanted my dad to come back. I wanted him alive so badly that it hurt to think about him. To whisper his name.
    My sigh was so heartfelt that Uncle Tuala looked over at me with concern. “You look nice in your uniform. I’m sure you will like this school. It’s the best one in Samoa.” Forced cheerfulness was nothing new to me. Heck, I wrote the book on it .
    “I’m sure it will be great, Uncle. Thanks. I’m only here for a short while anyways. Only until I get what I came for. Until I find out about my umm, about my heritage, you know? That kind of stuff is important for a young woman to discover.”
    Uncle Tuala ignored the almost-reference to matters better left unspoken and focused on swerving to avoid a three-legged dog strolling in the middle of the road. I felt an insane urge to giggle. It reminded me of Harry Potter and He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named – this whole forbidden topic of my mother. It was ridiculous.
    No. Standing at the front entrance