Starfields by Carolyn Marsden Read Free Book Online Page A

figures plunging their digging sticks through the layer of new ash. Others followed, dropping corn into the holes. Everyone hurried to complete the planting before the rains arrived.
    Halfway to the top, pure water trickled from a limestone cliff, forming a clear pool below. Lacy ferns grew at the water’s edge.
    No one dirtied the spring by doing wash here or by bringing animals to drink. A white wooden cross protected the purity. And yet people left candy wrappers, crushed plastic bottles, and fruit peelings strewn over the sand.
    Just before the big Festival of Santa Cruz, women would rake the sand clean. But right now it looked very messy.
    Rosalba and Sylvia filled their jars, then squatted side by side, splashing their faces with cool water. After the water settled again, they looked at their reflections: two cousins who’d grown up together — one slender, the other round-faced.
    They lay back on the sand. As Rosalba closed her eyes, colors swam gently behind her eyelids. First she saw a green star glowing in the dawn sky. How pretty, she thought.
    But then a disturbing vision appeared: the trickling spring, instead of running clear and fresh, was red, as if bloodied. Abruptly, the red water stopped flowing altogether.
    Rosalba sat up, her heart beating quickly. The real spring was still flowing sweetly. She shook her head to clear the unsettling vision. Had it been only a bad dream from eating too many chilies?
    She looked up to see clouds forming at the edges of the sky. Rain would come soon — maybe tomorrow or the next day.
    She stood up. Recalling the way Alicia had picked up the rusty can, Rosalba stretched her shawl across the bank. She began to collect the trash that littered the sand, laying everything on the dark blue cloth. Cleaning up wasn’t a big thing, but it was something.
    “What are you doing?” Sylvia asked.
    “Making the spring nicer.”
    “But your
shawl,
Rosalba! You’re ruining it!”
    “It can be washed. Besides, everything can be made into something else.”
    “Like what? How can you turn that watermelon rind into anything? What can anyone do with one sandal?”
    “I learned about recycling from the
ladina,
” Rosalba said. “All of this will be melted together to make airplanes.” She tied the bundle around her back, then hoisted the jar onto her head.
    “Here. You forgot this,” said Sylvia, handing Rosalba an empty soda bottle.

On the dark moon, Mauruch changes my bandages. When I count the layers he winds back on, I count only twelve.
    “Where is the last?” I ask.
    “You are to begin your entry into the light, Xunko.”
    “I am to
see
?”
    “If all goes propitiously.”
    I’ve grown accustomed to my darkness, to occasional bright visions. To my journeys into the future of the world. I lack nothing.
    The next month, only eleven layers are replaced, and so on as the year of dark moons progresses.
    Each month I flinch as more light arrives. What will it be like to live in the outer world? Will it correspond with what I’ve seen behind my eyes? Or will all be completely different?
    “Will you remove them all?” I ask Mauruch.
    “That depends on how you take to the light. And we shall see if you retain what you have learned in the darkness.”
    Now that eleven moons have passed and only one layer of bandage is left, I can make out the bright eye of the sun. I perceive the blessed darkness of our cave.
    “Will you take the last layer off?” I again ask Mauruch. Listening for his response, my stomach twists.
    Do I even wish it? I have been comfortable in this life, seeing far into the future of the world. I lack nothing.
    Mauruch doesn’t answer. His silence laps at me.

A n early morning downpour rattled the huge sturdy leaves of the banana trees. As Rosalba drew her shawl closely around her in the newly chilled air, she thought of how the toads, in spite of the fungus, were working their magic.
    The toads had brought the rainy season. Papa and the boys had