I See Fire | Wattys 2021/22 Shortlist | ✔

Chapter Three

An expectant hush fell over the crowd. Jem's father, Abraham, stood on a scorched cinder block, as if he needed more help to loom over us. Under the grey sky, he looked like a bear from the north, his broad shoulders and tall frame clothed in fur that everyone said was bearskin. But his face, though fierce, was warm and soft with pride.

"Grillo Negro," he said, this time as if to a loved one. "Welcome. Welcome grandmothers and grandfathers, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, aunts, uncles, cousins. Welcome, friends. Welcome, family. Today, we are celebrating. Every child in Grillo Negro is a child of Grillo Negro, and first it is time to commemorate a very special year indeed. This month, Graciela Castillo Atenco, daughter of Liliana Atenco Mendoza and my son Adán Castillo Vásquez, turns one. Miguel, would you bring your sister here?"

The crowd parted to admit my nephew. He shuffled up the makeshift aisle, matching his sister's steps as she clung to his hand and beamed at everyone around her. When the two of them reached Abraham, he crouched so he was closer to their height. Miguel plopped down and sat Graciela in his lap. She giggled.

"Graciela," said Abraham. He laid his hands on her shoulders, and now she sat still. "In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, I welcome you."

Scattered members of the crowd touched their foreheads, chests, and each shoulder. Their murmurs carried like a prayer.

Abraham continued. "Our books and cathedrals were lost to fire, but they were but a vessel for the true Spirit, the God who watches over us from above. He is the keeper of our children, who came into the world as a child so that we may be blessed. May He be with you, keep your body, bless your thoughts"—he moved his hands to her head, then removed them and took her tiny hands in his—"and watch over the work you do, so that you will never doubt that you are safe and that you are loved. I say this on behalf of our village, Grillo Negro: you are our family, and we will keep His promise to you."

Another murmuring swept the crowd.

Abraham released Graciela's hands and stood again. "And Emma."

The aisle had not fully closed, and it opened again as Emma retraced Miguel and Graciela's steps. She stopped beside the other children.

"Emma," said Abraham. "Today we will mark your fifteenth year, as you become a grown and responsible member of Grillo Negro. You are a gift to our village, and in return, we have a gift for you. Keep it with you, and always remember that wherever you came from and wherever you go, you belong here and we will always be here for you."

He produced a necklace of thin sinew. From it hung a pendant identical to that worn by every village member: a pebble etched on one side with the design of a stylized insect. Soot-darkened resin filled the lines, hardened like stone itself. Grillo Negro. A black cricket.

Abraham held it tenderly. "This was made by Angelita's grandmother before she passed, in hopes that her granddaughter would bless us with a child. Sadly, this would not come to pass, but God had other ideas. We found you the same day Angelita lost her pregnancy."

Found by Elías in the middle of the desert, frolicking with a coywolf pup. There was no trace of who had left her, despite her age: two years old at most. Rodolfo and Elías had raised her.

"From your family," said Abraham, and tied the pendant around her neck. Then he turned her around and gestured for Miguel and Graciela to rise. "Grillo Negro, these are your people. This is their day. Shall we give them their party?"

Music burst from one end of the crowd. Flutes and hand drums and the staccato pulse of gourd maracas found a rhythm and swelled into melody. Emma ran to fling herself into my uncles' arms, grinning from ear to ear. A dance floor appeared. I headed for the fires, where people were queueing up with bowls at the ready.