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  If I try very hard and think once upon a time,

  I think maybe I can find that young woman in her face.

  I imagine a time when the barn didn’t sag

  and the cattle were many and strong

  and hope grew fast

  as flowers in good earth.

  I imagine Lou saying good-bye soon to this place

  that has been her home for so long,

  to live in a world with no snow and no cows.

  Lou pulls down another picture.

  This is my sister, the one in L.A., she says.

  She has a little yard.

  I suppose I could plant some

  vegetables there. You can grow things year round.

  She stares at the picture.

  Imagine that.

  I spot a tiny seed of something fine sprouting

  in Lou’s eyes.

  My heart is glad to see it.

  I remember my aunt’s words:

  Kek finds sun when the sky is dark.

  That was easy to do when I was a child

  in my life before.

  It’s not so easy when the clouds are low and black.

  I wonder if finding the sun is one way to be a man.

  I drink my milk.

  The clock ticks.

  Ganwar and Lou are watching me.

  I know it would be better to wait for Mama here,

  I say at last.

  Lou and Ganwar nod.

  They don’t say anything.

  I guess I could come back to work

  until you have to leave, I add.

  That would be great, Lou says.

  I know Gol would like that.

  She could use more attention,

  Ganwar says.

  That cow does love a good ear scratch,

  Lou agrees.

  She’s good for petting, I say.

  And leaning on, Ganwar adds.

  She’s a very unusual cow, Lou says.

  Another idea comes into my head

  like a new friend knocking at the door.

  Sometimes I very much like my brain, I say.

  What do you mean? Ganwar asks.

  I smile. I think maybe I just found

  some sun for Gol.

  PART FOUR

  When spider webs unite, they can tie up a lion.

  —AFRICAN PROVERB

  HERDING

  When Saturday comes,

  Lou is waiting for

  Ganwar and Hannah and me

  in the barn.

  She sips at her coffee mug.

  I just wish my trailer hitch

  hadn’t rusted out, she says.

  We’ll be fine, I tell her.

  Hannah is wearing her school backpack.

  I brought a map in case we get lost, she says.

  And some candy bars and water.

  It’s a long way, Lou says in a worried voice.

  There’s a lot of traffic.

  She shakes her head.

  I probably shouldn’t be letting you do this.

  You probably don’t have a choice,

  Ganwar says with a laugh.

  Maybe I should call ahead

  and explain things? Lou asks.

  Sometimes it’s better

  just to walk up to the door

  and ask, I say.

  Lou grins. All right, then.

  Let’s get this show on the road.

  She gives Gol a kiss.

  See ya, girl.

  It’s been a good ride.

  I take Gol’s halter

  and off we go.

  The sun is a steady hand on our shoulders.

  We walk along the side of the busy road

  for many steps.

  Gol and me,

  then Hannah behind us,

  then Ganwar.

  When cars race by,

  they suck the air away.

  A huge truck grumbles past.

  Gol doesn’t like the whoosh and roar.

  She stops hard

  and refuses to go on.

  I pull.

  She pulls back.

  She hates

  being so close to the traffic, I say.

  I pat Gol and talk to her

  and after a while she

  agrees to move on.

  Good girl, I say, relieved.

  But up ahead I see trouble is waiting.

  TRAFFIC JAM

  We reach a crossing of two huge roads.

  Many lights hang from wires.

  Cars come and go

  like frantic ants.

  Don’t worry, Ganwar says.

  I’ll tell you when it’s safe.

  He turns to Hannah.

  You sure this is the right way?

  Pretty sure, she answers.

  Ganwar watches the lights,

  then steps into the road.

  A blue car zooms toward him,

  horn blaring.

  He leaps back.

  We wait a while longer,

  then Ganwar dives back into the traffic.

  Come on. He waves his hand.

  And hurry!

  We cross three lanes of cars

  and come to a thin strip of land

  covered with grass and tiny purple flowers.

  We’ve still got three more lanes, Ganwar says.

  But Gol has decided

  the purple flowers are a tasty treat.

  She grazes happily

  while I yank on her harness.

  Hannah pushes Gol’s rump.

  Come on, girl! Ganwar cries.

  The light turns yellow.

  Hurry! Hannah yells.

  Gol glances up

  to see what all the noise is about.

  She chomps down one last bite.

  Then she ambles out into the road.

  The light turns red.

  We are in the middle of a sea of cars.

  Honking and shouting hurts our ears.

  Gol looks at me

  as if to say,

  Why is everyone in such a hurry?

  I pull, Hannah and Ganwar push.

  And nobody moves.

  Gol has come to a stop,

  and so has all the traffic.

  COPS

  We are surrounded by cars,

  but no one is moving.

  It looks like the parking lot at the mall.

  Only everyone is grouchy.

  If you don’t get that cow off the road,

  she’s gonna be lunch meat, kid! a man screams.

  Look, Mommy!

  A little girl points out her window.

  Is this a parade?

  Heading slowly toward us

  I see bright lights of red, white and blue.

  Great, Ganwar mutters.

  Cops.

  The car with lights gets stuck in traffic, too.

  A woman and a man in blue soldier clothes

  make their way through the knot of cars.

  They have guns on their hips.

  What’s going on here, kids?

  the policewoman asks.

  My cow won’t move, I explain.

  It’s hard to take my eyes off

  her gun.

  Some reason your cow is in the

  middle of six lanes of traffic

  on a busy Saturday? the policeman asks.

  We’re going to the zoo, Hannah says.

  Ganwar covers his eyes and groans.

  The police people can’t decide

  whether to smile or frown.

  Their mouths are all mixed up.

  You taking her to see the animals

  or be one of the animals?

  the woman asks.

  Hannah clears her throat.

  Um, she’s going to be

  a new exhibit.

  Who’s going to pay to see this

  bag of bones? the man asks.

  She’s going to be in the petting zoo,

  I explain. She likes to have her e
ars scratched.

  Go on. Try it.

  Not me. The policeman holds up his hands.

  I wanna get close to one of these,

  I’ll get a Value Meal with fries.

  The policewoman holds out her hand and

  reaches for Gol’s ear.

  Gol leans into her.

  She likes me, the woman says.

  Horns blare.

  Uh, Nora, we got to focus here,

  the policeman says.

  She might move now,

  I say. We’ll push, and maybe

  you can pull.

  This is definitely not part of my

  job description, the man mutters.

  We get into position.

  One, two, three!

  Ganwar cries. Move!

  Gol looks behind her.

  She’s pouting a little.

  She can see she is surrounded.

  Slowly she inches forward.

  Bit by bit,

  we cross the rest of the road.

  Cars begin to move again.

  Some people who drive by

  use words I haven’t learned

  in ESL class yet.

  It’s very dangerous for you kids

  to be doing this, the woman says

  when we reach the other side.

  Why isn’t she in a trailer or something?

  Who owns this cow, anyway?

  Lou gave me custard, I say proudly.

  The police just stare.

  Custody, I correct myself.

  I pull out the piece of paper

  Lou gave me.

  The man examines the paper.

  He sighs. Well, it’s just a few more miles up the road.

  I suppose we could give you an escort.

  I don’t know what this is,

  but I can tell that Hannah is excited.

  Would you keep your lights on? she asks.

  Lights, but no siren, the woman agrees.

  We begin our slow, strange herding down the

  edge of the highway,

  followed by the police car.

  The red, white and blue lights

  remind me of the America flag.

  I feel like the President.

  If only Lual could be here,

  I say to Ganwar,

  and we laugh a good, long laugh.

  ZOO

  The zoo workers are a little surprised

  to see one cow, three kids and a police car

  show up at the ticket booth.

  They call their bosses

  and say come quick.

  The zoo bosses are even more surprised

  when I tell them Lou and I

  are donating Gol

  to the petting zoo.

  Just try scratching her ear, I say.

  She loves it, adds the policewoman.

  The main zoo boss is

  tall and thin and has

  a shiny head like an apple

  at the grocery store.

  He reaches out for Gol’s right ear.

  Gol makes her happy cow face.

  Her eyes are faraway and full of peaceful thoughts.

  You are a charmer, aren’t you, old girl?

  says the man.

  The petting zoo needs a cow, Hannah points out.

  And she is free, Ganwar adds.

  The owner is donating her,

  even though she could sell her

  and make a fine profit.

  Everyone looks at Ganwar.

  He shrugs. Figured it was worth a try, he says.

  This is a very kind offer,

  says another zoo boss man.

  but this isn’t how we do things usually, kids.

  There are meetings, and requisition forms,

  and veterinary exams—

  Gol rests her head on the

  shoulder of the apple-head zoo boss.

  I can see that she is very tired from

  her adventure today.

  She’s awfully affectionate, Harold,

  the man says. And they make a point.

  We are in need of a cow.

  I was hoping for one a little less …

  geriatric, Harold replies.

  Gol blinks her long-lashed eyes

  and Harold smiles.

  Oh, what the heck, he says,

  and once again I see that

  heck is a very good word.

  Why don’t we send her over to the clinic

  and have her checked out?

  If she’s clean and in decent health …

  well, she does kind of grow on you.

  Ganwar leans close to me.

  You amaze me, cousin.

  Hannah kisses Gol

  and Ganwar pats her flank

  and I stroke her neck

  and whisper in her ear

  and then off she goes

  to her new land

  to begin again.

  The police drive us home in their car.

  They keep the lights on

  and even play the siren once.

  What did you whisper to Gol?

  Hannah asks when we return to Lou’s.

  I grin.

  I told her if she can moo,

  she can sing.

  EPILOGUE

  FIFTEEN MONTHS LATER

  A sandstorm passes; the stars remain.

  —AFRICAN PROVERB

  HOMECOMING

  The airplanes float in

  one by one

  but each one is the wrong one

  and we wait

  and wait

  and wait some more.

  Ganwar and his new girlfriend

  and Dave and my aunt

  sit on the plastic chairs

  and talk.

  Hannah stands beside me

  as we stare out the wall of glass.

  We know enough to be quiet.

  In the pocket of Hannah’s jeans

  I see part of a white envelope

  covered in curly blue letters.

  I smile.

  Hannah carries it with her everywhere.

  I know how that is.

  It’s fall,

  and the trees are wearing red and orange coats

  to fight the icy nights.

  I think about the trees, the flowers,

  the brown grass in the fields.

  They can all be patient,

  certain that spring will return.

  They don’t have to hope.

  They can be sure.

  Hope is a thing made only for people,

  a scrap to hold onto

  in darkness and in light.

  But hope is hard work.

  When I was a child, I hoped to fly.

  That was a silly, easy wish.

  Now my wishes are bigger,

  the hopes of a man,

  and they take much tending,

  like seedlings in rough sun.

  Now I hope to make my new life work,

  to root to this good, hard land

  forever.

  At last the time comes

  and the door opens

  and people pour out

  but no one

  is the right one.

  The sun streams through the glass window.

  red and gold with the day’s last sighs,

  so bright I have to shade my eyes.

  One more person comes out,

  slow and searching.

  I see other colors, too, then,

  blue and yellow,

  not the colors of the setting sun,

  but a flash of something torn from my past.

  A voice comes,

  a voice like laughing water

  on my thirsty heart:

  My son!

  and Mama embraces me

  like we’re saying good-bye

  instead of hello

  and around her neck is a scarf

  made of the softest fabric

  of blue and yellow.

&
nbsp; I can’t find words.

  There are no words, not in my old language,

  not in my new one.

  We walk together

  like one person,

  her arm tight around my shoulders,

  and the air is wild with talking and

  laughter and questions,

  so many questions,

  but I don’t speak.

  We reach the silver escalator

  with its melting stairs.

  Mama freezes.

  People grumble

  and step around her.

  I take a breath,

  I take a step,

  I hold out my hand.

  She watches me rise,

  she takes my hand

  and at last

  the right words come.

  Mama, I say,

  welcome home.

  Thank you for reading this FEIWEL AND FRIENDS book.

  The FRIENDS who made Home of the Brave possible are:

  JEAN FEIWEL, Publisher

  LIZ SZABLA, Editor-in-Chief

  RICH DEAS, Creative Director

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  Find out more about our authors and artists and our future publishing at

  WWW.FEIWELANDFRIENDS.COM

  Our Books are Friends for Life

  A FEIWEL AND FRIENDS BOOK

  An Imprint of Holtzbrinck Publishers

  The author and publisher gratefully acknowledge Ahmed Elmi, Refugee Services, Refugee & Employment Programs, Lutheran Social Services of Minnesota, for his expert review of this work.

  HOME OF THE BRAVE. Copyright © 2007 by Katherine Applegate. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address Feiwel and Friends, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to [email protected].

  First Edition: September 2007

  eISBN 9781466887831

  First eBook edition: November 2014