What the Night Sings by Vesper Stamper

Author:Vesper Stamper [Stamper, Vesper]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2018-02-20T00:00:00+00:00

I slowly put the letter down and picture Lev’s life before I met him, going backward in time.

I think of him running down the street, a little red-haired boy in a sweater-vest. Sitting in class. Playing keep-away with his sister. Wrestling with his brother. Falling asleep in the arms of his mother.

People of Lev’s, people I will never know.

It’s all so completely…unfair.

The rain has stopped. I need to get out of here.

“Michah!” I call, running across the puddle-specked courtyard. He is standing at a table covered with maps, talking to other men but surrounded by girls, prettier ones than me. Their clothes are hand-me-downs, too, but somehow smarter than mine. They’ve got too much makeup on and their hair is up in curls and twists, and I can see the lean, hungry look in their eyes, for Michah. They all jostle each other for a closer position. But they don’t know what I know: the spicy scent of his skin, the feeling of his slight whiskers on my cheek, the rhythm of his warm breath in my ear—and I need that now, to feel like I’m inside my own body.

“Michah!” I call again, this time looking at the girls as I say it, smiling and narrowing my eyes at them. They have nothing on me. He finally looks up and catches my stare. He tells the men to wait and elbows past the girls as he comes toward me.

“Hello, you,” he says, putting his arm around my waist. He ushers me to a dark passageway out of sight. The afternoon sun doesn’t reach us, and it’s chilly back here. He pushes me against the brick wall of the bunk hall and begins kissing my neck. It is delicious, and I drink it in like nectar. His kisses are masterful and require nothing of me. His arms surround me and I let myself, for this moment, forget where I am.

“Come with us, honey,” he says, between nibbles on my ear. “It’s almost time. We’re leaving for Eretz Yisrael soon.”

How easy he makes it sound. “All right, when do we leave?”

“That’s the spirit,” he whispers. “Just a couple more months. I’ve got the route mapped out and a guy making up papers for everyone.”

A thought tugs me back. “Wait—” I stop and put a hand on his chest. “I have a friend…he might want to come, too.”

“No stowaways, little girl. I handpick my passengers.” Suddenly his breath is too hot on my neck. I look at his eyes. He is somewhere else, not with me. He is trying to kiss me again, but he looks like a bird trying to peck for a crust of bread.

“I have to go,” I say, slipping out from between him and the wall.

“Come see me again, honey,” he calls. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him straighten his jacket and run his fingers through his hair.

I’m not sure where I’m walking—just away.

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