Trailing

Sometimes, when you have no place left to go, you do anything to find a place to stay.

When my Papa came home that night, he was angry. When Papa gets angry, he hits Mama. Hard.

Papa sat down at the table and demanded dinner. Mama hurried to get it, stumbling over her own feet. She set a plate of beans in front of Papa, and he ate.

All the while, my three brothers, two sisters, and I sat on the ground, watching him closely. Papa hadn't always been so mean. When I was little, he used to hold my hand and take me to the only park in town. He used to tell me how much he loved me, but now I know well enough to stay away from him when he gets like this.

When he was finished eating, Mama took his bowl and put it in the wash-bin. She sat down across from him, cautiously.

"What's wrong, honey?" Mama asked nicely. Again and again, she surprises me with how calm and collected she can be towards a man like my Papa.

Papa grunted. "We have to go. The landlord's taking our house. We have to be gone by morning."

"What? But where are we to go?"

"America. I've got a boat scheduled to take us to a dock near Florida."

"You mean we're going to America illigally?"

End of Chapter 1