Flower Boy - Karen Roberts - Hardcover - 1st U.S. Edition

Chapter 1 It rained the day Lizzie was born. Not the gentle benediction god showers on newborn babies, but a screaming, sheeting downpour that turned the neatly mown lawns into squelching seas of mud. The rain god was angry. When they had built the projecting roof to protect the whitewashed walls of the bungalow, they had not taken his fury into consideration. Or maybe they had. Maybe the rain god didn't like the idea of anything stopping him from making his fury felt. Maybe there wasn't a rain god at all. Chandi flattened himself against the wall and thought these thoughts, while trying to lick raindrops that dripped off the end of his nose. For all its violence, the rain tasted sweet. The white walls were splattered with gray spots of damp that would remain like a faint accusation long after the rain had stopped. It wasn't only Chandi's nose that the raindrops dripped off. They ran like tiny tributaries down the back of his neck, down the sides of his head where they dipped lazily into the whorls of his ears before continuing downward to join the streams running down his legs. He wondered if the drain at his feet ran into a river that ran into the sea. He'd never seen the sea, for the towering mountains effectively blocked any view of it, but he knew it was there because he'd heard stories about it. People in these parts called it the lake that roared. The hogana pokuna. His too-small shirt was drenched, and stuck wetly to his skin like the slug on the wall behind him. He pulled it away from his stomach, but when he let go, it got sucked right back. A little pool of rainwater had collected in his navel, and he squeezed its edges together so the rain could creep out and join the river that ran into the sea. His shorts were too big. They kept slipping down and he kept hitching them up. They had belonged to the Sudu Mahattaya's son, the one who was away in England. They had red and green checks and a mock belt. They were his favorite shorts and he wished he weren't wearing them today. He was afraid that the red and green checks would wash away in the rain, like the whitewash. They hadn't as yet, but he was still worried. Chandi remembered why he had worn his favorite shorts. It was his fourth birthday, although no one had remembered except him. He wondered when he could go back inside. They hadn't said anything, and he had forgotten to ask. He wondered if they realized it was raining. He sneezed loudly and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, examining the transparent streak of snot on it with interest. He held his hand out into the rain and watched it slide away. He wondered if it would eventually end up in the sea. Perhaps a fish would swallow it and sneeze it out. The thought of a fish sneezing made him laugh aloud. Suddenly, the rain didn't seem angry and fierce, like Buster who lived outside the garage door. The lawn didn't look muddy and slippery and treacherous anymore; it looked like the best place in the world to play. He ran out and gasped as large drops of rain hit him full in the face. Pennies from heaven. He had heard a song about that once on the gramophone. At the edge of the lawn, he stepped carefully over the neatly trimmed hedge of green and brown and yellow croton plants and immediately felt the mud squelch between his toes. To his surprise, it wasn't cold and slimy but warm and gooey, like melted chocolate. He wondered if it tasted like chocolate. He walked around lifting his feet high, like a water buffalo plowing up a paddy field. He barely felt his feet slipping away from under him, hardly even knew he was falling, until his face hit the chocolate lake. He lay there with his eyes squeezed shut, wondering if he had been hurt. He moved his legs experimentally, then his arms. Everything worked. He opened his eyes and saw chocolate everywhere. He toucheRoberts, Karen is the author of 'Flower Boy - Karen Roberts - Hardcover - 1st U.S. Edition' with ISBN 9780375503160 and ISBN 0375503161.