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Back The Year the Maps Changed Save as PDF
Chapters (75)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. Map
  6. Prologue
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. Acknowledgments
  74. About the Author
  75. About the Publisher

The peeling paint, squeaking floorboards, some of the books on the shelf and even the faint smell of lemons from the tree planted outside the window were all my mom’s from when she was my age.

“I know, I know it was, Freddo. But it’s your room too. And it might really help us all out. . . .”

I could feel my eyes getting watery and I blinked them quickly, not wanting to cry.

Luca reached out and gently moved my bangs out of my eyes, then made as though he was going to bring me in for a hug—but I stepped back and lifted my forearm up to my head and rubbed my eyes quickly on my sleeve.

“I mean it, Freddo! Nothing is certain yet. We’ll talk about it some more and . . .”

“Fine.” I threw the hand towel down, still with half the dishes to be done. “I’ve got homework to do.”

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9

Worldly Possessions

One night in March, there was a baby in barbed wire on the TV.

Luca wasn’t working late for once, so after dinner we were sitting with him and Anika on the couch, waiting for the news to be over. The news always felt like the longest ad between better shows.

Sam’s sweaty-socked foot was touching my bare leg because he knew it annoyed me, and I was about to start kicking him again when suddenly Anika moaned and said, “That poor bub!”

The way she said it, I had to look over and see.

And there was a baby in barbed wire, right there, on the TV.

There were mountains and blue sky in the background and this baby boy, in a blue onesie and socks, being held by many hands. He looked so calm, like it was all normal—but there were barbs on the fence, and his chubby legs looked like they were about to be cut by one of them.

The newscaster spoke. “A photojournalist has captured the happy moment as members of a Kosovar family displaced by the war are reunited at a refugee camp in Kukës, Albania. The youngest member of the family is being passed through a barbed wire fence to greet his relatives on the other side, who were thought lost, or worse, deceased.”

The footage changed and the newscaster said, “The military action being undertaken to stop President Milošević’s army marks the first time that the North Atlantic Treaty Organization—NATO—has gone to war.”

“What else is on?” Sam whined, but nobody listened.

A city skyline came on the screen—for a second it reminded me of the view of Melbourne from high atop Arthurs Seat—and then the whole place lit up in a blinding flash of light.

“Geez . . . would you look at that,” Luca said, the words rumbling out of him.