The Paper House Read Online Free PDF

under her own shawl and hurry away.
    â€œI have to go in,” screamed Safiyah. “I have to see my grandmother. She was visiting Mrs. Okella.”
    â€œThe house is empty,” said the man who was trying to keep people away.
    All the noise and bustle seemed to fade away. “What do you mean?” Her voice sounded like it came from a long way away.
    â€œEveryone on this side of the alley was sent away until the fire is put out.”
    â€œCome with me, child,” said Mrs. Pakua.
    â€œNo. Let me see.” Safiyah rushed past the man. She raced over the littered ground, ignoring voices behind her and arms reaching out to stop her.
    The curtain over her doorway was burned and ragged. But inside, the bed was tidily made. Her grandmother’s knitting basket was safe on the shelf. The house smelled of smoke and an unnatural heat came through one wall.
    Nothing was burned. But the house was empty.
    Safiyah dashed outside again, right into Mrs. Pakua’s arms. “Cucu’s not there!”
    Mrs. Pakua turned to one of the church elders. “Where have the neighbors gone?”
    He pointed down the lane. “Everyone is at Zuma’s bicycle shop until this street is safe.”
    A woman hurried forward and whispered to the man.
    His face was very serious as he turned back to Safiyah and Rasul’s mother. “The news is not good.” He studied the thick black smoke rising from the burned house. “It seems we were not able to save Mrs. Okella.”
    Safiyah pulled on Rasul’s mother’s hands. “What does he mean?” But she could read the answer in her eyes. Mrs. Okella was dead. “I must find Cucu.” Safiyah’s scream spiraled into the air. “Where is my cucu?” The crowd moved aside to let her pass.
    The alley was usually filled with shouts and laughter, with the sound of crying babies and barking dogs. But now Safiyah heard only the blood pounding in her ears as she ran to find the only person she had left in the world.

Chapter Eleven
    Safiyah found her grandmother asleep on a crate, leaning against a cluttered counter at the back of the bicycle shop. It was very dark, and smelled of oil and sweat and tobacco smoke. “Cucu?”
    Her grandmother opened her eyes slowly.
    â€œCucu!”
    â€œThere you are, my little one.” Cucu pulled Safiyah onto her lap. She patted Safiyah’s back as she gulped and hiccupped. She stroked Safiyah’s cheek as she groped for the words to tell her about Mrs. Okella.
    â€œThat poor, poor lady.” Cucu eased Safiyah aside. She pulled the little cloth bag that bulged with mancala stones from her pocket. “She was so happy to win this time.” She heaved herself to her feet. “Now you are here, we will go home.”
    â€œI couldn’t find you,” wailed Safiyah. She started shaking again. “I thought you were dead!”
    Cucu pulled Safiyah back against her thin body. “After Mrs. Okella won her game, I came home. But you were gone. I came looking for you.” She patted her chest. “Mr. Zuma found me coughing and brought me here.” She looked around the crowded shop. Two babies slept on their mother’s shoulders. A group of men smoked as they talked quietly together. A family sat against a wall without speaking. “We were both lost, for a little while,” said Cucu. She stood with one hand resting against the bench. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead and her lips were dry and cracked. She put a fist to her mouth and began coughing.
    â€œYou see?” Safiyah said to Mrs. Pakua, who had waited silently as Safiyah was reunited with her grandmother. The old worry about losing the only family she had left rose in Safiyah like a gust of wind.
    â€œPerhaps you should rest a little longer.” Mrs. Pakua helped Cucu sit down. “I am Grace Pakua,” she told her. “You granddaughter’s new friend.”
    â€œI know of your