A Time of Miracles by Anne-Laure Bondoux & Y. Maudet

Author:Anne-Laure Bondoux & Y. Maudet [Bondoux, Anne-Laure & Maudet, Y.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Europe, Secrecy, Historical, Juvenile Fiction, Action & Adventure, Social Issues, Family, Refugees, War, War Stories, Parents, Survival Stories, Survival, Military & Wars, secrets, Survival Skills, Caucasus, Europe - History - 20th Century, Caucasus - History - 20th Century
ISBN: 9780385739221
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2008-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

chapter twenty-one

IN life nothing goes the way you want. That’s the pure and simple truth.

You’re separated from the ones you want to love forever.

You want peace, but there are only rebellions.

You want to catch a boat, but you have to climb into a truck.

A truck that stinks of adulterated gasoline, sweat, and wet dogs. A truck that gets stuck in the mud, that tilts over the ruts of mountain roads. A truck that carries other refugees and their overflowing gear.

And what’s worse is that no one can understand anything. If God existed, or Allah, he would have a hard time explaining our miseries, right?

Lost in thought, I tell Gloria that I’m fed up with the hazards of life. I’m going to be eleven soon, and all I’ve known are hurried getaways, rushed goodbyes, and anguish. If it keeps up like this, I tell her, I’m going to jump out of the truck and wait for the soldiers to shoot me.

“Ah, yes?” she says. “And then what?”

“Then I’ll be dead, obviously!”

“And you’ll be better off, no doubt?”

Through a hole in the tarp that covers the back of the truck, I can see a forest of dense trees pass by. It’s darker than a cave in there. If I jump out, maybe I’ll be able to live there in hiding for 107 years, like a bear.

“And your mother? Do you think of her?” Gloria whispers. “Do you think she would enjoy hearing that you’re dead?”

“My mother doesn’t know me. She couldn’t care less,” I say. “And maybe she’s dead too.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk! Jeanne Fortune is not dead. She’s alive.”

“How would you know? You just tell me stories to force me to live.”

Gloria folds her arms over her chest. She thinks a moment as the truck zigzags to avoid puddles. Around us the other refugees try to catch some sleep. They are seated higgledy-piggledy, like rejected merchandise.

“Stay quiet,” says Gloria. “I have something very serious to show you.”

I’m suspicious. “Do you have more secrets in your box?” I ask her.

“Not in my box, Monsieur Blaise. In my pocket.”

I’m angry, but I stay calm. It’s raining outside and we are in the middle of nowhere. Honestly, I would rather stay dry by Gloria’s side, even if she gets on my nerves.

She searches under her coat and takes out a crumpled envelope. She hands it to me.

“There, open it,” she says.

I unfold the paper. In the upper left corner I see the colors—blue, white, and red. And a woman’s head. And below, some lines in French. Although I learned the everyday vocabulary in my catalog, I can’t read what’s written because of the alphabet.

“What is it?” I ask.

“An official document,” Gloria whispers like a secret agent. “From the Department of Foreign Affairs. You see that sign up there? It’s the emblem of France. Below, it says ‘Liberty, Equality, Fraternity.’ I had it translated by one of Mr. Ha’s friends.”

“Oh?”

“Yes indeed. And you know what else it says?” She stops and looks at me so intensely that it gives me goose bumps.

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