“She’d felt ragingly alive in the dream, but now she’s as inert as the eggs cooling on a plate. Ther’s a mirror her in the bedroom, too, but she chooses not to look at it, just in case her hunch is true and she’s invisible.”
“I looked at the long dirt road that crawled across the plains, remembering the morning that Mama had died, cruel and sunny. They had come for her in a wagon and taken her away to be buried. And then the cousins and aunts and uncles had come and tried to fill up the house. But they couldn’t.”
And Mama was. Mama was so upset that she couldn’t even look at Jamela. She just looked at the dirty, torn material and said sadly. “What am I going to wear for the wedding?” Everyone felt sorry for Mama and cross with Jamela. Even Jamela was cross with Jamela. She hadn’t meant to ruin Mom’s material. It just happened.
“Pip didn’t look away. Her neck strained, sending stabs of pain down her spine, but she refused to look away. Not until those golden lanterns were little more than specks, nestling among the stars. And even beyond that.”