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Amused, I smile, laughing with the other children. As more men fall, they guffaw at their own clumsiness. Suddenly two cold hands tightly cover my eyes. Startled, I turn sideways and hear giggling. I reach up to pry the hands open, but they grip my face harder.

“Who is it? Who is it?” I demand, irritated.

No answer.

I swing my hands to hit whomever it is, and the person moves, jerking my head back. Angry, I pry at the hands again and they come loose. When I look behind me, I see Ry, laughing comically.

She chuckles, pointing at me. “I’ve been standing behind you, and you didn’t even know that I was here. You kept laughing.” Ry imitates my laughter, very amused.

We hurry back to our shack, and Ry updates me on where she slept and what she had for dinner last night. She says she bought herself dinner with the gold she’s brought, and found a family who let her sleep in their hut. What a free spirit she is! And there I was in our shack, worried about her. Now I’m at ease, very grateful that she’s come home—a home that is defined not by the camp where we live, or the shelter that covers us, but rather by those in our family who are left alive.

Our shack is more crowded with the addition of Ry and Map, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I remember a saying in a song, “It’s more bearable to have a crowded home than a crowded heart.”

Ra has told Ry, Than, and Map that she will marry bang Vantha, and that seems to be okay with them. We all feel it is her decision to make.

One evening Ra and bang Vantha go strolling in the camp and come back with a little girl about six years of age. She’s thin, about Map’s height, her face hid behind streaks of black dirt, her nose runny, her hair short like a boy’s. Her shirt and pants are ragged.

Sitting down on the mat between Ra and bang Vantha, the little girl sniffs, then wipes her nose with the back of her hand. Bang Vantha glances at her proudly.

“Ara and I want to adopt her as our daughter. She’s an orphan. What should we name her?”

Ra thinks, studying the girl. “Name her Savorng, because she is articulate and talks like sarika.”* Ra seems proud of herself for having chosen the name.

Bang Vantha agrees and thinks Savorng is a smart child. He says that they saw her in an alley near the market, where she was addressing passersby with this mature young voice. She would say, “Uncle, aunt, please help me. Please give me money and I’ll wish you and your family long life and good health.”

Map becomes teary and moves closer to Ra. Savorng does the same, declaring, “She’s my mom!” Her hands peel Map’s hands from Ra’s folded legs.

Map cries, looking helpless, neglected. Bang Vantha laughs, amused. Ra finally turns her attention to Map, placing her arms around him. He sobs endlessly, and cries harder when some of his clothes are given to Savorng after her bath. He runs over to her and tries to pull her shirt off.

“No, it’s mine!” Savorng pulls away, glaring at Map.

The move into a Thai camp never materializes, but a warning of a Khmer Rouge attack suddenly surfaces in the camp. We gather in the alley in front of our shack. Tomorrow, it is said, at about ten o’clock in the morning, the Khmer Rouge will attack the camp. Their goal is to seize the camp from the PARA soldiers, and we will be caught in the combat zone, a man reports dismally. Before returning to our separate homes, some elderly women suggest that we should get up early to cook food. If we are forced to flee again, they reason, at least we should have a full stomach.

We get up early and prepare a wonderful meal. Steaming food has been dished out on the mat. Seven plates of rice. Two bowls of soup with pineapple chunks, catfish, lotus shoots, tomatoes, mint, green onion, and browned minced garlic. Among the soup bowls lie a plate of fresh broiled fish with sliced cucumbers and two small bowls of sweet-and-sour sauce.

I eat a few bites, but I am too anxious to finish, and go outside. I go around the shack to the back corner and hike up the mound, then climb up one of the two tall trees. I climb up