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Manjeet Mann - The Crossing

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Book:
The Crossing
Author:
Manjeet Mann
Publisher:
Penguin Random House Childrens UK
Genre:
Books / Art
Year:
2021
Rating:
4 / 5
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The Crossing: summary, description and annotation

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Powerful, compassionate and ultimately hopeful. Observer
WINNER OF THE COSTA CHILDRENS BOOK AWARD 2021 and the Sunday Times Childrens Book of the Week - a trailblazing novel about two teenagers from opposite worlds; The Crossing is a profound story of hope, grief, and the very real tragedies of the refugee crisis.
The sea carries our pain. The stars carry our future.
Natalies world is falling apart. Shes just lost her mum and her brother marches the streets of Dover full of hate and anger. Swimming is her only refuge.
Sammy has fled his home and family in Eritrea for the chance of a new life in Europe. Every step he takes on his journey is a step into an unknown and unwelcoming future.
A twist of fate brings them together and gives them both hope. But is hope enough to mend a broken world?
Skilful, involving and important, this deserves its accolades The Sunday Times
Powerful, uplifting, hopeful Guardian

Manjeet Mann: author's other books

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For the millions of Sammys

About the Author

Manjeet is an actress, playwright, screenwriter and director. She is the founder of Run The World an organization that works with women and girls from marginalized backgrounds and helps to empower them through sport and storytelling. She lives in Kent.

Other books by Manjeet Mann

RUN, REBEL

PENGUIN BOOKS

Penguin Books is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.

www.penguin.co.uk
www.puffin.co.uk
www.ladybird.co.uk

First published by Penguin Books in 2021

Text copyright Manjeet Mann, 2021

The moral right of the author has been asserted

Text design by Janene Spencer

Cover illustration by David Foldvari

ISBN: 978-0-241-41145-2

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the authors and publishers rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

366 days before

Everyone is crying but me.

Seven days since she passed.

Seven days, eleven hours, forty-three minutes and sixteen seconds.

Counting the days, hours, minutes,

to stop myself from drowning.

Everyone is crying but me.

Dad squeezes my shoulder.

Be brave, Nat.

I walk towards the front of the church.

Seven days, eleven hours, fifty-three minutes and

nine, ten, eleven, twelve

Everyone is crying but me.

Im trying to remember how to breathe,

my desert-dry mouth,

hands trembling,

I swallow sand.

It feels like an eternity before I find my voice.

Everyone is crying but me.

Tears stream down Dads face

hes given up wiping them away.

His voice cracks

as he reminds everyone of who she was.

Katherine. Kate Kitty

her laughjoy for lifemermaid

wonderful motherbeautiful wife

activistbig heart

my mum.

Everyone is crying.

Everyone,

even me .

Me and Mama have lain here on

the cold floor for hours

or seconds.

Its hard

to know

anything

right now.

I lie next to Baba,

his warm hands

turned cold.

I want more than anything

to breathe life back into him.

Baba was fearless

in a country ruled by fear.

I wish I was like you ,

I would say.

My son the stargazer ,

he would say.

You are perfect just as you are .

Mama moves in waves,

her body undulating,

a crash of howls.

I am a rock.

Unresponsive

to her swells of emotion,

as she beats her chest

and folds into

half the woman she was.

His blood seeps

into my shirt,

staining my skin.

I breathe into the

holes

his

chest.

Our salty tears

mix with

his iron blood,

which soaks into

our skin,

our hair,

our guilt,

that we live

and he

doesnt.

Mama looks at me.

In this moment

she is still

and serious.

I cant hide you forever, Samuel.

It is time.

They will come for you next .

336 days before

I should have taken more videos of her.

I should have recorded every moment,

caught every breath,

savoured every laugh.

I touch the screen,

wanting to grab hold of her

to reach through my phone and

pull

her

out.

I wish she was still here, Dad.

I know, love, I know.

Dads desperate to keep it together,

but hes b r o k e n,

w e a l l a r e.

Weve kept our distance

these past few months,

keeping our sharp edges to

ourselves.

Getting too close

could cause a puncture

and then well see it.

The emptiness.

The grief.

Itll leak out,

or pull us in.

Either way,

therell be no

escaping

it.

My heart shifts a little,

knowing well

never

be the same.

Knowing we wont ever

fit

like before.

Mum was like

winter socks.

She knew how to keep you warm.

She knew how to hold you.

Dads like fingerless gloves.

He tries, but he doesnt quite

reach your edges

the important bits

the bits that really matter.

Watch this, Nat! Watch me!

We stare at the screen as Mum

cartwheels straight into the sea

and then emerges, coughing

and laughing,

trying to catch her breath.

That laugh, Ryan says, smiling,

and hes right.

Mum was small,

but she was a powerhouse.

Big laugh.

Big smile.

Big heart.

Ryan slides his finger across the screen

so we can watch the scene play out

again and again and again.

She was so passionate, wasnt she, Dad?

Like about everything.

She was, Nat, he says. She cared too much, your mum.

You know what shed say to that, dont you?

What, Nat?

Theres no such thing. You cant care too much .

Too much time has passed.

I trace Babas face on the screen with my fingertips.

I memorize his voice.

Eritrea is a country traumatized by war.

I want to feel his skin.

This once free country is a military prison.

I whisper his words.

The worlds biggest prison.

I pause the recording.

I stroke the face on the screen,

wishing it was skin.

I press play and the recording restarts.

I wonder if this video

is the reason

hes no longer here.

First the Italians.

I study Babas face.

Then the British.

I watch how he uses his hands.

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