Chapter 4- Akua (pt. 3)

Her bench made an ear-piercing screech as the wooden legs scraped along the concrete floor. And then her whole world and everything in it, everything except for Akua, froze. As if the force with which she had pushed the bench had stopped the world, itself, from spinning. All noise disappeared. She looked around her classroom and took in the still image—her classmates with alarmed consternations locked on their faces, Ms. Dorothy with the tip of her chalk still hanging to the unfinished ‘g’ on the blackboard, mouth agape.

If Akua’s unexpected movement had activated a pause button on the world, then her exit through the classroom door was like pressing fast-forward.  The classroom became alive with commotion. Children were literally crawling over one another to a catch a glimpse of Akua as she disappeared down the length of the school.

Akua paid them no mind. Fueled by desperate hope, she ran with the speed that only a child could muster. One left turn at the end of the school building, and then another quick left brought her to the street that ran outside her classroom window. She turned the corner just in time to watch the Search and Find tro-tro honk its horn and nudge its way back into the traffic before disappearing down the crowded street.

Akua stopped in her tracks, only steps away from where the tro-tro had been. She bent over to catch her breath—her back straight, hands on knees, elbows locked. Held loosely between the pointer and middle finger of her left hand, the photograph waved like a flag at half-mast.