“Hope I’m not interrupting.” He smiled at the group. “Just wondering about this building we’re supposed to be working on.”
It turned out that Hank was as proficient with a hammer and nails as Dr. LaBelle had claimed and they made good progress that first day and the next, finishing up some of the framing. While they worked, Amal, who was doing much better, spent time with the girls in the classroom, discussing archeology.
At their lunch break, they sat around the mess hall table, Remi nursing a blister on her hand from the hammer she’d been wielding. Sam helped apply a new Band-Aid. “A good pair of gloves should help.”
“Oh, no,” Amal said, indicating the food line where Nasha stood. “I hate to say it, but Hank was right. She can’t really help herself.”
Sure enough, Sam saw Nasha look around, then stuff something into her backpack.
Wendy happened to walk into the cafeteria at that very moment, catching the child in the act. “Here, now. What’re you doing there
?”
Nasha spun around, nearly dropping her tray. “Nothing.”
“Are you hungry?”
She shook her head.
Wendy squatted down in front of her. “There’s plenty of food to go around. You don’t need to take it.”
Nasha hid the small pack behind her back. “I might be hungry later.”
“You can ask later. The food’s not going anywhere. I promise.” Wendy held out her hand.
The girl hesitated, then reluctantly reached into her pack, pulling out several rolls.
Sam, watching this, felt Remi’s gaze on him.
“Do something,” she said. “Nasha needs to know she’s safe.”
“Me? What about—”
Clang! Clang! Clang!
“Emergency bell,” one of the girls shouted, and they all went running.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The road to success is always under construction.
– AFRICAN PROVERB –
Sam took a quick look around, not seeing anything out of the ordinary, as the sharp bell rang. “Planned drill, I hope?”
“It is,” Wendy said, earning a look of relief from Amal. Wendy apologized for not warning them, stood, and called out, “Emergency bell. Time to go.” She guided Nasha to the door after the other students, then looked back at Sam. “You’re welcome to finish your coffee.”
Sam rose. “A drill’s a drill. Lead the way, Wendy. We won’t know what to do if we don’t practice.”
Remi, Hank, and Amal followed him from the mess hall out to the courtyard, where they found most of the students rushing to line up behind the four oldest girls, who stood by a stone marker on the ground. There was a lot of talking and laughing among the children while they waited.
Amal smiled when the two smallest girls realized they were in the wrong line and scurried to their proper places. “Haven’t done one of these since grade school,” she said to Remi. “Not sure I’d know what to do.”
“Same, here,” Remi said, laughing. She glanced at Sam, her relief evident. Though they’d both been worried about Amal’s health after their attack on the road, she’d had no seizures since, and seemed to be enjoying her time with the girls.
About two minutes later, Pete walked out into the courtyard, nodding at Sam, Yaro, and the women as he passed. He took a position in front of the girls, holding up two fingers. They stopped talking, their attention on him. “Nicely done,” he said loudly.
The students clapped briefly, wide smiles on their faces.