Copper Sun; Sharon M. Draper
IN SPITE OF THE HEAT, AMARI TREMBLED.The buyers of slaves had arrived. She and the
other women were stripped naked. Amari bit her lip, determined not to cry. But she couldn't stop herself
from screaming out as her arms were wrenched behind her back and tied. A searing pain shot up through
her shoulders. A white man clamped shackles on her ankles, rubbing his hands up her legs as he did. Amari
tensed and tried to jerk away, but the chains were too tight. She could not hold back the tears. It was the
summer of her fifteenth year, and this day she wanted to die.
Amari shuf led in the dirt as she was led into the yard and up onto a raised wooden table, which she
realized gave the people in the yard a perfect view of the women who were to be sold. She looked at the faces
in the sea of pink-skinned people who stood around pointing at the captives and jabbering in their language
as each of the slaves was described. She looked for pity or even understanding but found nothing except cool
stares. They looked at her as if she were a cow for sale. She saw a few white women fanning themselves and
whispering in the ears of welldressed men-their husbands, she supposed. Most of the people in the crowd
were men; however, she did see a poorly dressed white girl about her own age standing near a wagon. The
girl had a sullen look on her face, and she seemed to be the only person not interested in what was going on at
the slave sale.
Amari looked up at a seabird flying above and remembered her little brother. I wish he could have
flown that night, Amari thought sadly. I wish I could have flown away as well.