Nowhere Boy by Katherine Marsh

Author:Katherine Marsh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Roaring Brook Press

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Ahmed crouched behind the holly bush in the back of the garden, waiting for Oscar. He was surprised by how determined he felt, especially since he had nearly changed his mind about the whole plan after running into Inspector Fontaine.

The night after he’d bumped into the cop had been a restless one. What if Fontaine catches me? What if Farah betrays me? What if, what if? The song of fear was a familiar one. And so too was its chorus: The world does not care about you.

But Max did. And it was this thought that steeled his nerves as he waited in the chilly rain behind the holly bush. If Oscar told, he would have to say goodbye—not just to his cellar hideout, but to Max.

At last, he heard the back door open and voices speaking French—first a girl’s, Farah’s, of course—then Max’s, then a gruffer boy’s voice he didn’t recognize. This had to be Oscar’s. Ahmed listened to the thuds of a football being kicked around. Madame Pauline was probably still watching from the picture window. But when the ball came sailing past him and rolled to a stop in front of the wall, Ahmed knew that the nanny had gone to the kitchen. This was the signal they had agreed on.

As footsteps came his way, Ahmed straightened up, but he had been crouching for so long that when the large, sandy-haired boy stepped in front of him, he was still hunched and stiff. The boy drew himself up as if to accentuate the difference. But he wouldn’t look him in the eye.

“This is Ahmed,” Max said.

Ahmed stuck out his hand. “Bonjour.”

Oscar lurched back. Ahmed realized he had frightened him and put down his hand.

“I speak a little English,” Oscar said flatly.

Ahmed smiled as politely as he could. “Easier to me.”

But only Farah smiled back. Ahmed wondered whether to offer her his hand too. It wasn’t the Muslim custom between girls and boys, but Max had said she was a Belgian. It was Oscar who unknowingly saved him from this awkward situation by leaning right in his face.

“If you lie, I know.”

Ahmed looked him in the eye. “I not lie, I tell you only true.”

Oscar’s pudgy face remained stony. “Who are you and how did you get here?”

“I am Ahmed Nasser,” Ahmed began. “I come from Syria to escape war. I come by sea, to Greece. My family all dead.”

He paused there, in part because the words caught in his throat, but also in the hope that Oscar would feel some pity. But the boy looked on with the same hostile expression.

“Why you come to Belgium?”

“Man I go with has family here.”

Oscar crossed his brawny arms over his chest, then said something in French to Max.

“He said that this doesn’t give you the right to be here too,” Max said.

“I not know where to go,” Ahmed admitted. But before he could explain further, Oscar interrupted, speaking in French to the others.

Farah glowered.

“What?” Ahmed said to Max.

Max shifted uncomfortably.

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