Free After the Ashes by Sara K. Joiner Page B

him to play. If he comes here, it will be to see his mother, and nothing else. Do you understand?”
    â€œNo,” I said honestly.
    Tante Greet sighed. “That’s fair. Regardless, can I trust you to do as your father and I say?”
    I closed my eyes in frustration. Slamet was gone. Who would I talk to? Why did it seem like everyone was conspiring against me? Slamet and I had never done anything wrong. Our friendship had never hurt each other—or anyone else.
    I could feel Tante Greet’s eyes boring into me, and I knew she was waiting for an answer. There was only one that would satisfy her.
    â€œJa,”
I said.

Chapter 14
    I was so unnerved by my conversation with Tante Greet that I couldn’t even think about going exploring in the jungle anymore. Instead I just stood there, feeling as if the kitchen walls were closing in around me. I needed air.
    I ran from the kitchen, burst through the door onto the front porch and gulped deep breaths. As I took in the scenery of our front yard, I remembered how once, when we were little, Slamet and I had spent an entire afternoon rolling a ball back and forth between us on the lawn. When that became tiresome, we threw it at each other. He tossed it toward me—not very hard—but I missed the catch and the ball slammed into my stomach and knocked the wind out of me.
    That’s how I felt now. Blindsided. Hurt.
    Bang!
    I jumped and turned toward the source of the noise.
    Mr. De Groot, our neighbor, was dragging a trunk down his porch steps.
    Bang!
The trunk hit the next step.
    I walked over to his yard. “What are you doing?” I asked over the scraping sound of the trunk.
    Mr. De Groot set the trunk on the ground and walked over to greet me. “Little Katrien.” The older gentleman clasped my hand.He had always called me little even though I now stood as tall as he. “Mrs. De Groot and I are leaving.”
    His news stunned me. “W-why?” I asked. I couldn’t handle another upset today and I suddenly felt like I might shatter into a million pieces.
    He pointed southwest. “That’s why.”
    I followed his direction. “Krakatau?” In the weeks since I first learned of the eruption, the plume of smoke had become a familiar fixture on the horizon. Sometimes the color was white and hard to spot against the clouds; other days it was gray. Today, it was dark and angry like thunderheads.
    He returned to his trunk. I grabbed the other end, and we both shoved the trunk into the wagon that sat waiting by the road. “
Dank u
, Little Katrien.”
    I pushed up my spectacles. “But why are you leaving? I don’t understand.”
    He ignored my question and walked to the other side of the wagon.
    â€œHubrecht,” his wife called, coming outside, “we have four more trunks, and I want to bring the mirror.” Mrs. De Groot was shorter than her husband, but with a long neck. She reminded me of a banded linsang without the spots and tail. “Oh, hello, Little Katrien.”
    â€œHello, Mrs. De Groot. Your husband tells me you’re leaving.”
    â€œ
Ja
, we are.”
    â€œBecause of Krakatau.” Skepticism filled my voice.
    She nodded and cast a wary glance in the direction of the volcano.
“Ja.”
    â€œBut Krakatau’s forty kilometers from here. Maybe passing ships would be damaged by another eruption, but we’ll be fine.”
    Her eyes bored into mine, and I had the distinct impression that I was being judged—as if Mrs. De Groot was deciding exactly if, or how, to respond.
    Finally, she spoke. “Come here.” She sat on the porch steps and patted the space beside her. I did as I was told. “Hubrecht,” she called. “Help me tell Little Katrien.”
    Mr. De Groot tugged at his cotton-white beard and joined us on the steps. “It’s your story, Marijn. You should tell it.”
    Something important passed between them. The