Jo Cotterill - Looking at the Stars

Contents

Aminas homeland has been ravaged by war for many months, but so far she and her family are safe, together. When a so-called liberating force arrives in the country, the family think their prayers for peace will soon be answered, but they are horribly wrong... The country is thrown into yet further turmoil and Aminas family is devastated...

Through it all, Amina has her imagination to fall back on of a better place and time. But can her stories get her through this?

Jos first story at the age of five was a festive one entitled Chismas. After writing a lot of stories about unicorns, she decided at the age of thirteen to become an actress. Her professional acting career was enjoyable but frustrating, so she became a teacher instead, writing stories on the side. Her first book was published in 2004, and she gave up teaching in 2009. Jo now lives in Oxfordshire and fits writing around her young family. She enjoys music and card-making, and is an avid fan of Strictly Come Dancing.

LOOKING AT THE STARS
AN RHCP DIGITAL EBOOK 978 1 448 12156 4

Published in Great Britain by RHCP Digital,
an imprint of Random House Childrens Publishers UK
A Random House Group Company

This ebook edition published 2014

Copyright Jo Cotterill, 2014
Cover illustration and title lettering Grady McFerrin, 2014
Photograph of girls Lee Avison / Trevillion Images

First Published in Great Britain by The Bodley Head, 2014

The right of Jo Cotterill to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

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.

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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

For my daughters

We are all in the gutter,
but some of us are looking at the stars.

Oscar Wilde

The day the soldiers came, we cheered. We werent supposed to, of course; if Potta had seen us, he would have been furious; but we couldnt help it. Jenna and I were on our way back from the reed beds, our arms full of plants for use at home, when we saw the dust rising up in the distance. The road was empty apart from a woman walking towards us with a basket balanced on her head. The dusty, scrubby track wound off into the distant mountains, with only the occasional tree to break up the landscape. Usually there was nothing to be seen at all, but today there was a low cloud growing bigger and bigger by the minute.

Horses? I was puzzled.

Wagons? suggested my sister.

The woman with the basket turned to look behind her. Soldiers, she whispered. The liberators!

I felt an excitement rush through me at her words, though I didnt know what to expect. Jenna and I watched the dust clouds approach, and before long we could hear the noise of the vehicles too. The woman stood with us and tugged at her headscarf to cover her face.

Then the cars and trucks were upon us, one after another, kicking up tiny stones and more clouds of dust as they passed, making us cough. Soldiers riding on the roofs, smartly attired in beige and brown, with foreign badges on their caps, smiled and waved at us. Of course, to begin with I tried not to look at them, but there were so many smiles and waves and cheerful shouts that after a while I couldnt help but smile back. And then I waved, and the soldier I waved to looked so delighted that suddenly I couldnt stop waving, and then I was cheering, and the woman next to me was cheering, and Jenna was cheering too and then the woman unwound her headscarf and brandished it in the air! I gasped at this public breaking of rules, but when no one came running to arrest her, I looked around furtively and unwound my own scarf too.

Amina! cried my sister. What are you doing?

Being liberated! I cried, my green scarf mixing in the air with the black of the womans. Come on, Jenna!

But my sister was more cautious than me and kept a tight hold on her own navy scarf.

Its like a story, Jenna, I said, exhilarated. Excitement bubbled through me. Once upon a time there was a kingdom ruled by a tyrant. But then a flight of angels arrived to rescue the people!

Hardly angels, said Jenna, though she was smiling. Where are their wings?

The engines roared like avenging dragons. I could almost imagine them breathing fire. The smiling soldiers blurred in the haze and the dust and the intoxicating scent of freedom.

Remember this day, said the woman as she gazed at the seemingly endless procession of vehicles. I wasnt sure if she was talking to me or to herself, but she repeated it. Remember this day the day liberation began.

I will, I said impulsively, and she turned to me and smiled.

Everything will change now, she said. Youll see.

Eventually the procession came to an end, and we put our scarves back on and went on our way. I glanced behind at the woman, whose name we didnt know, and there was a lightness in her step that I was sure hadnt been there before. I felt the same way. After five years of living under the Kwana, we were about to be rescued! No more stupid headscarves, no more stupid rules about going out without escorts, no more flogging in the streets. The life I could remember only as a kind of dream life before the Kwana would return!

How long do you think it will be before we can go back to school? I asked Jenna eagerly.

My sister, her headscarf tightly in place, made the sort of tutting noise my mother was so good at. Mini, why do you always ask things like that? How can I know the answer? How can anyone?

What are you talking about? I asked. The soldiers are here, arent they? Everyones been saying for months that things cant go on the way they are. Look at the riots in the big cities! The rest of the world has finally realized what Ranami has been doing to our people. Our glorious leader and his glorious Kwana army huh!

Ssh! Jenna looked crossly at me. We were nearing the edge of our village. Cant you hold your tongue? Youll get us into trouble!

I was frustrated. Arent you even a little bit excited, Jenna? I mean, dont you want things to change?

Of course I do! But I dont think its a good idea to talk about it. Jenna unwrapped one arm to gesture at our village. Are things different here yet? No. So its still not safe.

My gaze swept over the approaching rows of homes. Talas wasnt all that big compared with Gharsad, the nearest city, but it felt big to me. Id never lived anywhere else; never set foot outside the area. It was as familiar to me as my own hands. The buildings were made out of stone, brick, wood, metal anything people could find or buy at market. Some were grand affairs, with several rooms, gardens and verandas. Others simply consisted of one main room where everyone slept, ate and washed together. I could remember when this particular street had been half the length it was now over the years, new people had come, bought a piece of stony ground, and built their home on it, stretching the street further and further. Wed been promised running water and electricity when the Kwana came to power, but it never appeared. Maybe, I mused, the arrival of the foreign troops would mean that we finally got those things.