The dance studio sits above a pharmacy. To reach it, Adaeze climbs a narrow stair. It smells of soap and cough sweets. At the top, a wooden door opens onto one long room. It has mirrors on three walls.
舞蹈教室开在一家药店的楼上。要上去，得爬一道窄窄的楼梯。楼梯里有肥皂和润喉糖的气味。到了顶上，一扇木门通向一间长长的屋子，三面墙上都装着镜子。
Adaeze started dancing here at nine. Calla started the same week. They stand side by side at the barre. They know each other's steps by heart.
阿达埃泽九岁起就在这里学跳舞。卡拉也是同一周来的。她们并排站在把杆前，对彼此的舞步烂熟于心。
Today the room feels too big. Calla's bag sits by the door, next to a small cardboard box.
今天，屋子显得太大了。卡拉的包放在门边，旁边是一只小纸箱。
"My mother says the truck leaves at noon," Calla says.
“我妈妈说，卡车中午就走，”卡拉说。
"I know," says Adaeze. She looks at her feet.
“我知道，”阿达埃泽说。她低头看着自己的脚。
"Don't be like that." Calla opens the box and takes out a glass jar. It is full of tiny brown seeds, dry and light like dust. There is no label on it.
“别这样嘛。”卡拉打开纸箱，拿出一只玻璃罐。罐子里装满了小小的棕色种子，干干的，轻得像灰尘。罐子上没有贴标签。
"What are they?" Adaeze asks.
“这是什么？”阿达埃泽问。
"I don't know." Calla laughs. "My neighbour gave them to me last week. She said they come from her mother's garden. She did not remember the name."
“我也不知道。”卡拉笑了。“上周我邻居给我的。她说这是她妈妈花园里来的，可她记不起名字了。”
"Then why give them to me?"
“那为什么要给我？”
"Because I want you to promise something." Calla holds the jar with both hands. "Plant them. Make them grow. When the first flower opens, send me a photo."
“因为我想让你答应我一件事。”卡拉双手捧着罐子。“把它们种下去，让它们长大。等第一朵花开了，就给我发张照片。”
Adaeze stares at the jar. She does not have a garden. She lives in a flat on the fourth floor. It has one small balcony and no soil.
阿达埃泽盯着罐子。她没有花园。她住在四楼的一套公寓里，只有一个小阳台，没有泥土。
"That's a big promise," she says.
“这个承诺太大了，”她说。
"I know. That is why I trust you." Calla puts the jar in her hands. It is cold and heavier than it looks. "Promise."
“我知道。所以我才信得过你。”卡拉把罐子放进她手里。罐子冰凉，比看上去沉。“答应我。”
"I promise," Adaeze says.
“我答应你，”阿达埃泽说。
Then the stair creaks, and Calla's mother calls from below. The two girls hug for a long time. Then Calla runs down the steps. The door at the bottom closes with a bang.
这时楼梯吱呀响了一声，卡拉的妈妈在楼下喊她。两个女孩抱了很久。然后卡拉跑下了楼梯。楼下的门砰的一声关上了。
Adaeze stands alone in the long room. The jar sits in her hands like a small, silent question.
阿达埃泽独自站在那间长长的屋子里。罐子在她手里，像一个小小的、沉默的问题。
That night, she asks the pharmacist downstairs. The pharmacist is a kind, tired woman who asks no questions. She fills a paper bag with soil. It is from the big pots by her door. "Good luck," she says.
那天晚上，她去问楼下的药剂师。药剂师是一位善良而疲惫的女士，什么也不多问。她用纸袋装了一袋土，是从她门口那几只大花盆里挖的。“祝你好运，”她说。
Adaeze fills a cracked blue bowl. She presses most of the seeds into the soil and covers them. She keeps a spoonful in the jar, only in case. She puts the bowl on the studio windowsill. The sun comes in all morning.
阿达埃泽把土装进一只有裂缝的蓝色碗里。她把大部分种子按进土里，盖好。她在罐子里留了一勺，只是以防万一。她把碗放在教室的窗台上。阳光整个上午都照进来。
She waters it every day. She waters it twice when she feels worried.
她每天都给它浇水。心里发愁的时候，她一天浇两次。
A week goes by. Nothing happens.
一周过去了。什么也没有发生。
Two weeks go by. The soil stays flat and dark. The teacher looks at the bowl and shakes her head.
两周过去了。泥土依旧平平的，黑黑的。老师看了看那只碗，摇摇头。
"Too much water," she says. "You give them too much."
“水太多了，”她说，“你给得太多了。”
Adaeze stops watering for three days. Then the soil cracks and turns to dust. She starts again, but a little at a time. She is afraid to do it wrong.
阿达埃泽停了三天没浇水。然后泥土裂开，变成了尘土。她又重新浇起来，不过每次只浇一点点。她怕再做错。
On the twentieth day, a smell comes from the bowl. It is bad and wet. Adaeze lifts a spoon of soil. The seeds are soft and grey. They are dead.
第二十天，碗里飘出一股气味，又臭又潮。阿达埃泽舀起一勺土。种子已经变软，发灰。它们死了。
She sits on the floor, and her eyes burn. She does not cry, but she wants to. Her phone shows a message from Calla. It says, Any news? Send a picture!
她坐在地板上，眼睛发烫。她没有哭，可是很想哭。她的手机上有一条卡拉的消息：有什么进展吗？发张照片吧！
Adaeze does not answer. She puts the phone face down on the floor.
阿达埃泽没有回复。她把手机屏幕朝下放在地板上。
The door opens. A small voice says, "Why are you sitting there?"
门开了。一个小小的声音说：“你为什么坐在那儿？”
It is Pim, one of the little ones from the Saturday class. She is seven, and she wears a pink tutu over her jeans. Behind her stand eleven more children, all in a line.
是皮姆，星期六班里的一个小不点。她七岁，牛仔裤外面套着一条粉红色的芭蕾短裙。她身后站着另外十一个孩子，排成一队。
"I'm fine," Adaeze says. "Class starts in a minute."
“我没事，”阿达埃泽说，“一分钟后就上课了。”
"You look sad," Pim says. She walks over and looks at the bowl. "Is that a dead garden?"
“你看上去很难过，”皮姆说。她走过去，看了看那只碗。“那是一座死掉的花园吗？”
"Yes. It is a dead garden."
“是的。是一座死掉的花园。”
"Why?"
“为什么？”
Adaeze takes a breath. Then she tells her the whole story. She tells her about Calla, the truck and the promise. She feels silly telling a seven-year-old. But Pim listens with her mouth open.
阿达埃泽吸了一口气。然后她把整件事都告诉了她。她讲了卡拉，讲了卡车，讲了那个承诺。对一个七岁的孩子讲这些，她觉得有点傻。可皮姆听得张大了嘴。
"Do you have any more seeds?" Pim asks.
“你还有种子吗？”皮姆问。
Adaeze almost says no. Then she remembers. That first night, she kept a spoonful of seeds in the jar. She did not know why. She only thought, in case.
阿达埃泽差点说没有了。然后她想起来了。第一天晚上，她在罐子里留了一勺种子。她当时也不知道为什么，只是想着，以防万一。
She gets the jar from her bag and shakes it. About fifty seeds rattle inside.
她从包里拿出罐子，摇了摇。里面哗啦哗啦响着，大约有五十粒种子。
"That is not enough for a garden," she says.
“这点种子，种不出一座花园，”她说。
"It is enough for a cup," says Pim. "Everybody has a cup."
“可够种一杯，”皮姆说，“人人都有杯子呀。”
The other children come closer. They look at the jar with big, round eyes.
其他孩子围拢过来。他们睁着圆圆的大眼睛，看着那只罐子。
Adaeze thinks about it. A promise is a promise. But nobody says she must keep it alone.
阿达埃泽想了想。承诺就是承诺。可没有人说她必须一个人去遵守。
She tears twelve small squares of paper from her notebook. She puts four seeds on each. She folds them like little letters. Then she gives one to every child.
她从笔记本上撕下十二小片纸。每片上放四粒种子。她把它们折得像一封封小信。然后给每个孩子发了一份。
"Plant it in a cup at home," she says. "Put it in a sunny place. Water it a little, not a lot. And bring a photo when something grows."
“回家种在杯子里，”她说，“放在有太阳的地方。浇水要少一点，不要太多。等长出什么东西，就带张照片来。”
"What if nothing grows?" a boy asks.
“要是什么也没长呢？”一个男孩问。
"Then tell me," Adaeze says. "We will try again."
“那就告诉我，”阿达埃泽说，“我们再试一次。”
Weeks pass. Every Saturday, the children tell her the news. One cup grows nothing. One cup grows a tall green shoot that falls over. One boy waters his cup with orange juice by mistake. Adaeze laughs until her side hurts.
几周过去了。每个星期六，孩子们都来告诉她最新的消息。有一只杯子什么也没长出来。有一只杯子长出一根高高的绿芽，却倒了。有个男孩错把橙汁浇进了杯子里。阿达埃泽笑得肚子都疼了。
But slowly, twelve small windows in the city begin to turn green.
可慢慢地，城里的十二扇小窗户，开始泛起了绿意。
Then comes a Saturday in the spring. Pim runs up the stairs with her phone held high. Her cup has a yellow flower, as round as a coin.
后来，春天的一个星期六，皮姆举着手机跑上楼梯。她的杯子里开了一朵黄花，像硬币一样圆。
"Look!" she shouts.
“快看！”她喊道。
By the end of class, there are more. A white one, as soft as paper. A purple one that looks like a small bell. A tall orange flower with a dark middle. A pink one that opens only in the afternoon. They are all different. Nobody knows what any of them is.
下课的时候，花又多了。一朵白的，软得像纸。一朵紫的，像一只小铃铛。一朵高高的橙色花，花心是深色的。还有一朵粉红的，只在下午才开。它们各不相同。没有人知道它们到底是什么花。
Adaeze looks at the photos on her phone. Her chest feels tight. Calla's seeds were not one flower. They were many.
阿达埃泽看着手机里的照片，胸口发紧。卡拉的种子不是一种花，而是许多种。
She sits on the studio floor. She puts all the pictures in one message. She writes only a few words. Here is your garden, finally.
她坐在教室的地板上，把所有的照片放进同一条消息里。她只写了几个字：这是你的花园，终于来了。
She holds her thumb above the screen. Then she presses send.
她的拇指悬在屏幕上方。然后她按下了发送。
