Chapters (75)
“‘Ferman Khouri, a volunteer teacher from the haven, speaks out,’” Jed read, and we all leaned in. “‘These last few weeks the children have been exhausted, distracted, and prone to violent outbursts or crying fits. The adults are distressed and the children can feel a shift in their mood and spirits. Some children wander aimlessly around the school buildings or else disappear during the day completely. . . .’”
We were all quiet for a bit, and then Jed continued.
“‘Nora Ramusa works as an English teacher back home in Rahoveci,’” Jed started, and I sucked in a breath. “‘She has been working with Ferman Khouri as his teacher’s aide and translator. . . .’”
“What else does it say?” I blurted, feeling like I would jump out of my skin if Jed didn’t hurry up and finish reading.
“‘Ms. Ramusa expressed her deep sadness that in her opinion the refugee children have been unfairly used in political games. She says their world had been turned upside down and they were just starting to find their feet again, but any good work is now being undone.’”
“Nothing else?” I asked, wondering if they’d mention that she was pregnant and unsure if she’d be sent home too.
Jed shook his head.
By that same week, Keira had stopped sitting at our table in class, and Sam took her spot instead. Pretty soon she’d also stopped hanging at the rocks with us during lunchtime too. And I knew that we’d probably never again eat chocolate crackles on her bedroom floor or stick cootie catchers under each other’s noses to predict our fates.
It wasn’t just because we probably wouldn’t go to the same high school next year. We were already in a composite classroom because there weren’t enough students to make up single grades, so our sixth grade had to be smooshed together with our fifth grade. Sorrento was so small that they made us older kids travel a couple towns over to attend one of the bigger high schools. And there we’d stay for seventh to twelfth and all that next phase of our school lives. No wonder it felt like this chasm between us was slowly turning into a gorge. She’d moved on to a new group. I wasn’t mad, but I still felt sad. I knew it was probably because of Sam and me, and how upset we’d been. If moving on to a new group of friends meant I wouldn’t have to think of Drumlin ever again, or worry about Nora learning how to find bombs, then I’d move on too.
But I couldn’t. That wasn’t a choice for me.
And then something happened in the first week of October that would change everything—those contour lines spreading out and rippling, changing the landscape again, and this time maybe forever.
