One Shadow on the Wall by Leah Henderson (English) Hardcover Book

Description: One Shadow on the Wall by Leah Henderson "An orphaned boy in contemporary Senegal must decide between doing what is right and what is easy as he struggles to keep a promise he made to his dying father in this ... debut novel laced with magical realism"--Amazon.com. FORMAT Hardcover LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Publisher Description An orphaned boy in contemporary Senegal must decide between doing what is right and what is easy as he struggles to keep a promise he made to his dying father in this "stirring" (School Library Journal) middle grade debut novel laced with magical realism. Eleven-year-old Mor was used to hearing his fathers voice, even if no one else could since his fathers death. It was comforting. It was also a reminder that Mor had made a promise to his father before he passed: keep your sisters safe. Keep the family together. But almost as soon as they are orphaned, that promise seems impossible to keep. With an aunt from the big city ready to separate him and his sisters as soon as she arrives, and a gang of boys from a nearby village wanting everything he has--including his spirit--Mor is tested in ways he never imagined. With only the hot summer months to prove himself, Mor must face a choice. Does he listen to his father and keep his heart true, but risk breaking his promise through failure? Or is it easier to just join the Danka Boys, who despite their maliciousness are at least loyal to their own? One Shadow on the Wall is about love and loss, family and friendship, and creating your own future--even when its hard to do. Author Biography Leah Henderson is the author of One Shadow on the Wall and Together We March. She has always loved getting lost in stories. When she is not scribbling down her characters adventures, she is off on her own, exploring new spaces and places around the world. Many of the hopes, struggles, and traditions witnessed on her travels find a home in her work, hopefully offering added color and new perspectives to her characters lives. Leah received her MFA in writing from Spalding University and currently calls the Washington, DC, area home. Visit her at LeahHendersonBooks.com. Review "To read Leah Hendersons remarkable debut is to be utterly transported to a world that is at once mesmerizing, harrowing, and full of profound grace. Even as I rushed through this page-turner, I didnt want it to end; I wanted to bask in its evocative language, and fell completely in love with its loyal, clever hero. Give this to book to anyone who has ever struggled to decide between doing what is right, and what easy - namely, everyone." --I.W. Gregorio, author of None of the Above Review Quote "To read Leah Hendersons remarkable debut is to be utterly transported to a world that is at once mesmerizing, harrowing, and full of profound grace. Even as I rushed through this page-turner, I didnt want it to end; I wanted to bask in its evocative language, and fell completely in love with its loyal, clever hero. Give this to book to anyone who has ever struggled to decide between doing what is right, and what easy - namely, everyone." Excerpt from Book One Shadow on the Wall MOR bounced pebble after pebble off a crumbling packed-mud wall behind his familys barak. Clouds of powdery dirt exploded with each strike. "You want to play?" his friend Oumar asked, juggling a makeshift ball made of plastic bags and twine against his knee and foot. "It always makes me forget when Im sad." Oumar hopped on one foot while balancing the soccer ball on his other. "I do not want to forget." Mor stared at Oumar over his shoulder. The ball flopped to the ground. "My baay is gone. I always want to remember him." "I didnt mean it that way. I just thought . . ." Oumar picked up his ball, not finishing his sentence. Mor could tell Oumar wanted to scamper off like his other friends had after the burial. Mor had seen their discomfort and felt their pity pouring off them like sweat. Oumar was no different. Even though he had stayed, he wore his uneasiness. It draped over his shoulders and pressed down on his head. "Go if you want," Mor said, freeing him. He scooped up a handful of dirt. "We dont all have to feel as if the air is gone." Oumars feet moved before the last words had left Mors lips. "Maybe youll come down to the field tomorrow," he called back, dropping the ball to dribble. Although Mor loved the feel of the soccer ball against his foot, he knew he wouldnt go. Dust and tears stung his eyes as he watched Oumar run away. His baay was gone. And now so were all his friends. Only Jeeg, the family goat, stayed by his side. She was tied to a post, watching a few mourners as they turned for their homes. It had been only six hours since his fathers death, and as was tradition, many of the mourners still prayed and played religious songs on the path outside his familys door, remembering his fathers life. But Mor couldnt. It already felt like he had lived a lifetime without him. The sting was as great as, if not greater than, when his yaay had died. Then hed had his baay and his best friend, Cheikh, to lean on. Cheikh had been more like an older brother, but hed long since been sent to a religious school in the city, and now Mors father had left him too. With the exception of a distant aunt, he and his sisters were now alone. He studied the ground and caught sight of an enormous beetle scampering past his foot. Lost in its movements, he opened his fingers, letting the dirt he clutched rain down on the bustling bug. The shimmering black beetle stopped and started in a manic crawl. Mor took up a flimsy stick and poked the ground, changing the beetles direction, causing the bug to leave behind zigzags in the sand. Does this settle the storm within you? Mors head flung up. He strained to hear beyond the caws of crows, through the evening prayer call, and over the murmur of mourners. He was certain he had heard someone, but other than Jeeg curled near him, Mor was by himself. Although Jeeg flicked her ears and lifted her head, he knew she couldnt have spoken. What has this beetle done to garner such attention? Mor stood straight. He recognized that voice. "Baay?" You are not a python slithering in the dirt, hampering any life that falls across your path. Do not let your hurt turn you sour. For in an instant that beetle could have scudded into your spear. "Father, is that you?" Mor spun around wildly, knowing his baay could not be there. Could he? Like his yaay had been a week before? Mor was sure he had heard his fathers unmistakable voice, which held the feathery lightness of a locusts wings, braided with the strength of a plowing ox. It was deep and quiet all at once and always spilled out as an overflowing stream of riddles. I know you hear me, my son, but are you listening? the voice asked in the growing darkness. Mor crumbled to the ground and swatted his tears, raking his palms across his cheeks. Dirt ground into his skin when he wiped his face. "Im going mad," he sniffled. "Maybe Amina was right." I assure you, you have not conjured a dream or lost your sense. We are here with you. "?We?" Mor stopped. He had seen his mother--could it be that they were together? "Is it really you, Baay?" Yes, my son. Mors heart warmed and his tears stopped flowing. "Will you come to Tima and Mina, too?" he asked the purpling sky, hoping his sisters would experience the same. "They will not believe me if you dont. Especially Mina. She trusts little I say." It is not her role to trust with abandon. She is our questioning child, who takes the cautious road. Her love often prickles only because she does not want either you or the open heart of Tima to be led astray. You are the anchor of this house now. We come to you. "Will you stay?" he asked, hope rising with his words. Not always. Now your need is great. "What about Yaay?" Mor leaned forward. "Why cant I see her?" You will see her in comfort, and hear me in storms. Mor searched the space around him. He wanted her now. "How can I hear you?" He was relentless with his questions, but he didnt care. He wanted to know. To understand. To keep his father close. "And how can you hear me?" How can anyone hear? his father asked him. They listen. Are you listening now? "Yes, Baay," Mor said, going still. That beetle was not the cause of your heartache. Do not let it be a victim of it. A heat spread over Mors chest. "I know." You are a shepherd, not a venomous serpent, and have been entrusted with our beautiful flock of two. Mor lowered his head. Jeeg stared up at him. "I promise to do all you ask of me if you return." "Promise," you say? His fathers voice held a slight coarseness. You have already made a promise to me, yet here you are sulking in the dirt. The image of his fathers hand covering his own filled his head. It was the day after a careless moto and a roaring truck had hit his father. His baay had awoken in the Balla Clinic, with its tan tile walls, whizzing fans, and rows of occupied beds laden with sugar-white sheets and black, sick bodies. Recognition had brightened his baays eyes when he opened them to find Mor and his sisters huddled around him. Mor and Amina had tried to quiet Fatima as she clung to their fathers chest, sobbing, trying to climb into the bed. Amina pulled at her legs until their baay told her to let Fatima be. A tear escaped Aminas face then. The only one Mor had seen since their yaays death. Instead of asking where he was or how hed gotten there from the roadway hed been walking along, their baay said, "The wind has blown all that I love back around me." He wheezed then. Small tubes extended from his nose and bandaged arms. When he turned his stubbled chin, it sounded like sandpaper scratching wood, not a cheek grazing a pillow. "As one, all things are strong," he continued. "Divided, they are weak and scatter." Their baays eyes were glassy when they turned toward Mor. In a breathy whisper Mor felt his baay speak as if he and Mor were the only people in the room. No coughing strangers, no beeping machines, no crying sisters. "Do not let our house divide. Your sisters need you. And you need your sisters. Do not let yourselves scatter on a gust of wind. Hold tight to one another." And with a shaky voice Mor heard himself reply, "I promise." Do you recall your words to me, my son? His fathers voice now shook Mor from his memory. "Yes." Mor had trouble finding his own voice. Honor your promise. Keep our flock as one. When the sun had slipped from the sky, and most grasshoppers rested on leafy stems, long after all the well-wishers had gone and his sisters were stretched on their parents pallet, eyes closed, Mor hunched on a crate outside his familys one-room home. The moon was the village streetlight, shining down on a mix of rippling tin and thatched wood roofs. Black tarps hung under them against mud-brick walls. The footpaths in front of Mor led in every direction: to a neighbors barak, the village well, the beach, or the village center. Staring ahead, Mor wished he would see his parents strolling along the one to his door, like he had so many times before. He wiped at his eye while Jeeg lay over his feet, as she often did in the breezeless quiet. His eyes, already accustomed to the moonlit darkness, saw Coumba Gueye, their neighbor and his yaays closest friend, before he heard her approaching on the path. Even though she was not related by blood, she was an auntie to him, a tanta who had always been there. The moon guided her way toward him. "Whats this?" she asked when she was a few steps closer. "Why are you out in the dark with only Jeeg as your blanket?" She reached down and stroked the goat. As she bent, she revealed the melon-size head of her son, baby Zal, with tight black curls budding on his scalp. His chubby cheek was pressed against her back. "I do not need a candle to see that my baay is gone, or a flame to show that my yaay no longer sleeps on her pallet. So what do I need to see?" Mor said bitingly. As Tanta Coumba straightened, one side of her mouth curved into a slight smile. She rocked her head from side to side, her head scarf and Details ISBN1481462954 Author Leah Henderson Short Title 1 SHADOW ON THE WALL Audience Age 8-12 Language English ISBN-10 1481462954 ISBN-13 9781481462952 Media Book Format Hardcover Year 2017 Publication Date 2017-06-06 Pages 448 DEWEY FIC Audience Children / Juvenile Publisher Simon & Schuster Imprint Simon & Schuster Place of Publication New York Country of Publication United States US Release Date 2017-06-06 We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! TheNile_Item_ID:137641383;

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