Free The Paper House by Lois Peterson

frowned at her.
    The light shifted as Rasul stood in the doorway. “You sure you don’t want to know more? You are to get what you have wanted all along.”
    A glimmer of an idea squirmed inside Safiyah. “What have I wanted all along?”
    â€œTo go to school. Like Pendo and chattering Chidi,” said Rasul. “You’re to get a scholarship.”
    Cucu grabbed Safiyah’s hand and held it tight.
    â€œSomeone has offered to pay for Saffy to go to school,” Rasul told her.
    â€œFor books?” Safiyah swung her feet over the edge of the bed. “For a uniform?”
    Rasul nodded. “For everything. And you will get special lessons. At the art college.”
    Safiyah’s heart thumped in her chest. She would go to school with Pendo. She would wear a red sweater and blue skirt.
    She would learn to read!
    â€œWho is paying for this scholarship?” asked Cucu.
    â€œA rich geezer,” Rasul told her, “who likes art.”
    â€œWhy?” Cucu sounded as if she did not believe a word of it.
    â€œHe recognizes Safiyah’s outstanding talent. Those were his words.”
    Cucu’s hand shook on Safiyah’s as she asked him, “How do you know all this?”
    Rasul leaned against the doorway. “Mr. Littlejohn showed the newspaper to the teachers. They told all the kids in their classes, which is how Chidi heard all about it. The brat happened to be in school today, for a change. And on his way home he stole two copies off the newsstand, which is how we know all about it.” He stuck his hands in the pockets of his bright yellow pants. “Ma is so happy for you, she can’t stop smiling.” His face was sad for a moment. Perhaps he was thinking of his sister who liked school so much, thought Safiyah. But then he winked at her. “It may be a while until Chidi smiles though,” he said.
    â€œDid you beat him for stealing?” asked Safiyah.
    â€œHe deserves it. But no one gets beaten in my house.” He grinned. “He has to pay back the news vendor. So he’s off now, collecting bottles at the dump, I bet.”
    That’s where this all started, thought Safiyah. At the dump. Looking for paper so she could fix the house for her sick grandmother.
    Rasul dug a rolled newspaper out of his pocket. “Here. I bought a copy for you.”
    â€œCucu has one already,” said Safiyah. “You know I can’t read it.”
    â€œThis is no time to sulk, little girl! You can look at the pictures, can’t you?” said Rasul. “And maybe if you look at them long enough, you will believe what that art fellow has to say. ‘Extraordinary talent. Keen observation. Great initiative.’ And lots more.” He pulled Safiyah her to her feet. “Pendo will read it to you. She’s outside giving tours of the paper house.”
    Safiyah found her friend talking to two men at the side of the house. She was wearing her usual shorts and the old green sweater with a hole in the elbow. Pendo’s school uniform was at home, keeping clean.
    Without it, she and Safiyah did not look so different.
    She would have a school uniform soon, just like Pendo, thought Safiyah. She would take it off after school and put it away carefully before she changed into her old familiar clothes. Clothes she had brought with her when they traveled the long road from the village.
    She would go to art classes. Just like Rasul said. Like it said in the newspaper that she would keep in her special tin under the bed.
    But what if she didn’t want to be an artist?
    Safiyah linked arms with Pendo and said, “I want to show you something.” She led her friend to the picture of medical instruments. She pointed out the stethoscope and told Pendo how she might be a nurse instead of an artist, so she could help the sick people who crowded the beds and the floor and the courtyard of the clinic.
    But first she would go to school. Where