Moraline

By Cintia Alfonso Fior

"Powerful middle-grade fiction that speaks from the heart and invites readers to share in a better future." - Kirkus Reviews

"Cintia Alfonso's well-rounded approach to bullying is crucial for our youth."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rising Advocates Press
• Release date: Mar 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9781959963011

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Sale of this book without a front cover may be unauthorized. If the book is coverless, it may have been reported to the publisher as unsold or destroyed and neither the author nor the publisher may have received payment for it.

Copyright © 2023 by Cintia Alfonso Fior

All Rights Reserved. Published by Rising Advocate Press. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the publisher.

ISBN: paperback 978-1-959963-00-4

ISBN: hardback 978-1-959963-02-8

ISBN: ebook 978-1-959963-01-1

Cover illustration © 2023 by Caterina Baldi

Visit www.risingadvocates.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To present and future little advocates

Preface

Can storytelling contribute to peace education?

Critical peace education pedagogy requires the development of a kaleidoscopic lens capable of producing multi-focal points that collectively reveal the imagery of peace.

(Trifonas, 2013)

Moraline is a work of fiction, but it was inspired by a movement toward critical peace education, particularly for children in their formative years who have been historically marginalized within society. My goal is to use storytelling as an early intervention tool to facilitate conversations about racism and cultural diversity. Stories can show readers new perspectives and remind them that they aren’t alone. Unfortunately, in most Western countries, social justice education is offered as a patchwork of courses and materials, rather than a cohesive curriculum intervention aimed at teaching conflict analysis and resolution skills to equip young people to deal with the complexities of society.

This novel emphasizes the importance of racial literacy for both students and teachers. About midway through the process of writing, I realized that I was writing a book not only about children’s rights but also about how children’s rights intersect with environmental justice. Conflict offers an opportunity for positive change—a chance to develop visions of peace and solidarity among the world’s people, regardless of ethnic origin, religion, gender, or sociocultural background. Conflict gives us a chance to make these visions a reality. While not every background is represented in this book, I structured the characters to represent a wide variety of experiences so that readers can identify with the characters and reflect on diversity, the coexistence of difference, and our responsibility to the environment. Gould (2013) defined engaged thinking as the ability to think with others without losing one’s ability to think for oneself. This can only occur when moral values are instilled early in life. As adults, we bear a responsibility to equip children to understand their emotions and those of others from a young age, as well as how to understand and approach conflict. We need to reframe the narrative to offer future generations the possibility of peace as a new reality. This book serves as one tool for new generations to overcome conflict and violence. The ability to effect change and bring relief to a beleaguered planet is a learned skill rooted in respect and communication. The fate of the future is in the hands of children.

Contents

Part I

Run! Run For Your Life!

The Big Day

Taku Skan Skan

Portola Redwoods State Park

Finding My Voice

I Am Not Alone

Back to School

Part II

Your Daughter Is Like a Tomato

Colonel Wilson and His Invisible Enemy

The Secret Hideout

A Rescue Mission

What’s Your Name?

Your Story

The Tree of Life

Part III

Amani in the Mirror

Dance If You Can

The Journey

What Your Eyes Have Seen

Something Has Changed

A Race, the Race

Part IV

The Whispers of a Wish

Where Is Edmundo?

Action Needed

A Living Hurricane

The Hidden Book

The Taste of Justice

Little Advocates

Dreaming of Another Day

Their Stories

Afterword

Acknowledgments

Rising Advocates

About the Author

Part I

A man’s life is a circle from childhood to childhood, and thus it is in everything where the power moves.

—Black Elk (Lakota proverb)

Run! Run For Your Life!

She ran as fast as she could, despite the way her soaked blue jeans and dark hoodie stuck to her legs and chest, weighing her down. Tears of desperation fell from her eyes and trickled into her dry mouth. Her chest heaved as she kept running. Her lungs burned with every breath of the harsh, hot air and bent the trees around her. She only wanted to disappear. Get away from them, from everything. Was she far enough that they wouldn’t be able to hear her? She didn’t know. They might catch her if she stopped, but her legs trembled, and she stumbled.

A few more steps, Moraline, she whispered to herself between gasps. Keep going. Keep going. You’re almost there. She didn’t know where there was, but it had to be better than the place she had left behind.

She stumbled and fell. Her straight brown hair tumbled into her face. Little rocks and sticks scraped her palms, but she didn’t care. She got up and kept running.

It wasn’t the first time she had run away—far from it. Just this spring, she had run off to hide from her classmates in New York when they’d teased her about moving to San Diego. She had been running from trouble ever since the first day of kindergarten, when she had tried to run all the way back home after a classmate had nicknamed her Spacey and her teacher had scolded her for fidgeting. But even though she was used to running, it felt unusual today. It hurt even more.

Finally, she reached a large clearing and bent to catch her breath. It was peaceful in the open space. Moraline looked up and saw the fading sunlight of the late evening, still glimmering through the gigantic trees. It was just enough to illuminate the clearing, as if there were a theater technician shining a spotlight from the sky. The rich, spicy smell of the pine, sequoia, and cedarwood hung thick in the fresh air. Moraline filled her lungs, soothing the burning ache but doing nothing to cool the rage eating away at the rest of her insides. After taking in a few more breaths, she glanced over her shoulder, then dropped into a thicket under a tree. She curled up with her head between her knees and tried to massage her tired muscles.

There, there. You’re fine. Everything is fine. No need to be worried now, she tried to console herself. She clutched herself tightly, pretending her arms were the same that had held her the very first time, the arms of the one who sang to her the welcoming lullaby she still knew by heart.

Yeah, that’s better. Keep breathing. Slow and steady, her mom’s voice echoed in her head. Moraline removed her soaked boots, which had been black and shiny but now were caked over with earth.

She set the boots down but paused, noticing the ground nearby was unexpectedly smooth. It formed a mysterious pathway through the trees. A cool, gentle breeze tugged at her hair and wafted past her. Moraline stood and crept along the hallway of branches and leaves, barely feeling the pebbles and twigs poking at her bare feet, until she reached a small creek.

At first, it looked as though the creek was lined with dense foliage. Then, one after another, creatures lifted their tiny heads until Moraline was facing a carpet of well-camouflaged, red-bellied newts.

Hi, she said to the newts. Hope I’m not interrupting anything.

She said it as a joke to herself, but the newts continued to stare at her as if they really had been interrupted and were patiently waiting for her to leave.

I’ll . . . just be going, then.

She tiptoed along the creek, careful to avoid the hundreds of newts that coated the path. Fortunately, as she approached, they pulled their heads and tails back to reveal their bright red undersides. She thanked them. It was weird how normal it felt to speak to them. Finally, she found a spot of empty ground away from the poisonous salamanders, under the shade of a magnificent sequoia tree.

Memories of her classmates’ awful trick seemed to claw their way into her brain, but Moraline shoved them away. She wanted some time with herself to think about anything else.

The sunlight had dimmed, and the leaves were deepening into a dark shade of green. Moraline stood, getting lost in the sky and the patterns the sequoia trees made in it. The bark was old and worn, yet the trees still stood so tall after all these years, despite everything they’d been subjected to. Their name was perfect: they were ever living and forever green. Nothing could make them cease to exist. No matter what came, they would still be standing at the end of the day. If someone had asked her right then what she wanted to be when she grew up, Moraline would have said a sequoia tree.

She jerked her head up. Someone was calling her name, but it was distant, as if the person were underwater.

She sighed. It was probably her teacher or one of the chaperones from the camping trip. She should go back to the campsite. She hadn’t told anybody she was leaving; she had just wanted to get away from them.

It’s wrong, I know. But I can’t help it, she thought. No one would care anyway.

The harsh wind scraped her dry throat again. It would be so much easier to stay away, to keep running with the wind instead of against it. It still scorched her lungs when she ran with it, but less so. She breathed slowly in and out, trying to calm herself, but she couldn’t. Her palms stung. She lifted them to examine the scratches from earlier, which had started throbbing. Moraline tried to focus on the raw pain to distract herself, but it was no use. A sense of rising dread overtook her.

Maybe it was the thought of what would happen when she returned. Her teacher this year wasn’t so bad, but Ms. Campbell also believed in safety first. Or maybe it was the eerie light surrounding her—it seemed like the shadows of the trees were creeping up to her, caging her in. Maybe the choice was being made for her. Maybe the trees would keep her here and she wouldn’t have to return. She wasn’t sure whether the idea was comforting or scary.

A strange sound rose from deeper in the woods—a low whistle, followed by the loud creaking of trees and heavy footsteps over fallen leaves. Moraline froze. The cold seemed to billow from the wet soil under her bare feet. A sudden, icy gust of wind wrapped itself around her, and a quiver jerked up her spine. The trees seemed to edge closer.

Another sound met her ears: heavy strokes on the ground. Something or someone was lurking behind the tree closest to her. Her breathing became shallow again.

Moraline had never felt more alone in her life. If only she had asked her mother to let her stay home. A dozen images of horror-movie monsters rushed to the front of her mind to taunt her. Her throat tightened as the air changed to mark the presence of a dark figure directly behind her. She tried to move, but the cold mud had hardened over her feet, and she could not lift them. She jerked her head around and saw the shape of a man looming. She tried to scream, but the chill did not let any sound escape. No one could hear her.

The Big Day

Moraline had hoped that the camping trip with her new classmates would finally be her chance to get closer to them and make some friends. The first weeks in her new school had been hard. It was bad enough she’d had to leave her old friends and home in New York City to move to San Diego at the beginning of the school year. But none of her new classmates seemed interested in hanging out. Her trip buddy, Serenity, had curled up with a book right after they’d finished putting up their tent, so Moraline had been left to hover around the other students, fidgeting with her worn hoodie strings and wondering if she should break into any of their conversations. With her brown hair and brown eyes, she didn’t look that different from her classmates, but some kept staring at her as if she were from another planet.

She was still debating what to do when Thomas, Anita, and Amy called everyone together. Amy said, Let’s have some fun! It’s something I saw in a movie.

All the kids gathered at the big tree in the center of the campground. Moraline followed slowly. Thomas, Anita, and Amy were the most popular kids in her class, but they were not particularly nice. They hadn’t been nice to her so far, at least.

So, Thomas said with a grin. All eyes focused on him. We—Anita, Amy, and I—have an announcement for you. We voted for a couple of you guys to be the promising stars of this year.

That sounded weird, especially since the year was just starting, but Thomas spoke with such confidence that it probably wouldn’t have mattered if he were speaking utter gibberish. Some of the other kids looked as surprised and confused as Moraline felt, but some, like Raphael, nodded along. He was probably hoping he was one of the nominees.

The first one is . . . Thomas paused dramatically, letting his words hang for perhaps a moment too long. Melanie! Come up here, Melanie. You’re a star because of your volunteer work. Did you guys know that Melanie wraps meals for the homeless?

Everyone clapped and cheered, and Melanie, completely red in the face, went up to Thomas and did a small bow before she sat down again.

Second is . . . Max! Thomas swung his arms in the air like a circus ringmaster. He helped all the fourth graders last year.

Max went to stand next to Thomas for a moment as well, lifting an imaginary trophy and waving while his classmates clapped.

"Third and most important of