Tree Girl by Ben Mikaelsen Read Free Book Online Page A

had taught us to help all people, not just this kind or that kind. If wanting to live peacefully as human beings made us capitalists, socialists, or communists, none of us cared. We wished only to be left alone to live the ways of our ancestors. Why should that make us someone’s enemy?
    With the fighting and sounds of gunfire, many parents stopped allowing their children to leave the cantón to attend school. Papí refused to do this. He said to me, “Gabriela, I know you want to learn.”
    Papí was right. Like Manuel, I believed that knowledge would somehow help me to survive. I was hungry to learn, and since I had become Manuel’s helper, the younger children considered me their teacher. I felt an obligation to help at home, but teaching the children made me feel needed, and I knew that working with them would help me to think less about Jorge and Mamí. Still, I stayed home for one week following Mamí’s death.
    The day I returned to school, I left home early so that I could prepare lessons for the younger children. Manuel insisted I spend half of each day with my own studies. The other half he allowed me to teach math, reading, and science to the children, Enrique, Victoria, Lisa, Sami, and Carmen.
    When I arrived, Manuel was already at his desk, rubbing his neck as if it were sore.
    “How is my teacher, Manuel?” I asked cheerfully.
    “Your teacher would be better if there weren’t a war,” he answered, looking out the window as he spoke.
    “Is something wrong?” I asked.
    Manuel threw up his hands. “The world is wrong.” He turned in his chair to look at me, then relaxed with a tired smile. “I’m sorry, Gabriela. You didn’t come to school to hear your teacher complain.” Again, Manuel glanced out the window.
    “It’s okay,” I said, missing Manuel’s normal joking and teasing. “Are you watching for the students or for soldiers?” I asked.
    Manuel shrugged. “Maybe I’m looking for ghosts. How is your family?” he asked.
    “We’re looking for ghosts, too,” I said.
    Manuel and I spoke until it was time for school to begin. Only six students arrived for classes that day: Me; three older students, Rubén, Federico, and Pablo; and two of the younger students, Victoria and Lisa. I was happy to see Victoria and Lisa, because they were so close to learning the alphabet. If they finished memorizing the last few letters today, I had two pieces of candy saved for them as a reward.
    Manuel acknowledged the few students who had arrived, then leaned heavily back in his chair and scratched at his head as if weighing some great decision. “Instead of sitting in a hot schoolhouse, let’s go to the river for a picnic,” he announced. “I’ll teach all of you how to fish with a net.”
    I knew something worried Manuel that day. Maybe he feared soldiers arriving, or maybe other thoughts weighed on him. Whatever the reason, I didn’t mind taking the children away from the schoolhouse to the river. Lisa and Victoria could finish learning the alphabet outside as well as inside.
    As if relieved by his decision, Manuel grabbedRubén and tickled him. “What have you been eating at home? You’re fatter than my pig!”
    Rubén screamed with delight and tickled Manuel back. “And you’re bigger than our cow.”
    “He’s bigger than an elephant,” Victoria said.
    “Let’s go to the stream,” Manuel said, picking up a small pack. He also gave a small throw net to Federico to carry. I liked Federico. He was a tall, thin boy who thrived, as I did, on learning. He wrote beautiful poetry that sounded like gentle songs when he read them aloud in class.
    I watched Manuel as he led us down the path from the school toward the river. Many teachers shouted and punished students. Manuel spoke quietly, even when he was disappointed in a student. He treated each of us with great respect, as if our thoughts were worth more than his own. We would have followed him anywhere.
    As we walked, Manuel kept glancing over