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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

Anika walked up with our cart as the family of four kept talking in whispers. “Hello. Meerdeeta!”

Suddenly all four of them were looking at Anika—first with those same round eyes of shock and then it was like a light went on, and the two adults broke out in big smiles.

“Mirëdita!”

“Mirëdita!”

They each said it, then the little girls squirmed out of the hold one of the women still had on them, to shyly come over and start helping us stack the cereal. Sam and I quietly and a little sheepishly said “Meerdeeta!” trying to copy what everyone else had said.

The little girls giggled at us and kept stacking.

“I’m—I’m sorry, that’s all I know,” Anika said to the two women. “Hello—Meerdeeta!”

The two women spoke rapidly to the children, and the older one with the sticky-out hair looked at Anika over her shoulder. “Thank you, we are sorry,” she said, the words rolling off her tongue with tumbling r’s.

Anika, Sam, and I all must have looked at her in shock because she giggled again, and then they all said something else rapidly.

“Little English,” one of the women explained, pointing to her own chest. And then she smiled down at the girl and said, “More English.”

“Do you learn in school?” Anika asked the girl, who stood up once the stacking was done. The display wasn’t as fancy as before, but at least all the cereal boxes were off the floor.

The girl nodded.

“And what’s your name?”

“Merjeme,” the girl said.

“And who’s this?” Anika asked, nodding and smiling to her little sister, who was now standing shyly behind Merjeme and peeking around her shoulder.

“Arta.”

“Merjeme and Arta, it’s nice to meet you!” Anika said. “This is Fred and Sam.” She pointed at us in turn, then she smiled at the women. “And is this your mother and . . . ?”

“Mëma,” Merjeme said, pointing to one of the women. “Emta,” she added, pointing to the other, and then turning back to smile at us.

“Your mother and . . . aunt?” Anika guessed, and Merjeme nodded proudly.

“Well, tell your mëma and emta that we hope to see them around town too.”

As soon as Anika had finished speaking, Merjeme was quickly translating. Her mom and aunt smiled so widely at all of us, it made me smile back wider too.

“Falemenderit!” the aunt said, and Merjeme translated: “Thank you.”

We left them in the cereal aisle, and once we were far enough away Sam asked, “Can we tell Luca what happened?”

Anika smiled. “Yes. This we will tell Luca about.”

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22

When the Time Comes

That Wednesday, I told Pop about the refugees.

“And Luca goes there after work sometimes—just to help out,” I explained. “Mostly he says they want people to talk to, test their English out on, and show them how to play Aussie football.”