CHAPTER ONE SPARKS TORCHES A BONFIRE My father my brother and I headed to old lady Cumai’s funeral It was nearly dusk when we reached the top of the hill Long clouds were shooting across the horizon like arrows without a target Like the line of men emerging from the village too All of the men and only the men We were all dressed in black Since I didn’t have any black clothing my mom altered one of my grandfather’s suits to fit me She made me stand with my arms and
legs spread wide so she could measure me and stick pins in the fabric She hemmed it with white thread as a test run before sewing the real hem She said Be still Finley at least a hundred times and I tried to I really did But I’d never been any good at staying still My nose suddenly itched My knees creaked My toes tingled And I longed to jump run pedal climb throw a rock or run away anything but stand still Even in school I was constantly restless It’s probably the reason I failed the last semester As my mom poked and prodded and pulled at my grandfather’s suit I prayed that the agony of altering would be over soon It’s not my fault I can’t stay still I told her Patches keeps jumping on me Patches my faithful adventuring companion and scapegoat looked up with his watery eyes from under the couch where he was resting My mom tugged me away from him and a little closer to the light It had gone on like that for two hours Me fidgeting
my mother scolding But as I climbed to the top of the hill with my dad and my brother I decided it was kind of cool that we were all dressed in black There was something important and ancient about it When we arrived at the top of the hill Reverend Prospero had his back to the sea He was muttering some psalm while two farmers stooped over the tein-eigin a tool we would use to light the pyre It was the first time I’d seen one Well the first time I’d seen one actually being used The tein-eigin is a board made of new oak with a hole in the middle You spin a drill into the hole also made of oak and it begins to shoot sparks I watched the two men prepare the tool from behind my father’s back He seemed larger than ever in his black jacket like one of those heroes whose deeds you read about in books while the winter wind blows or the sea roars ominously in the background Old lady Cumai had requested the bonfire on the hill
