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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

Mr. Khouri sighed. “Apparently The Simpsons is quite popular in Kosovo, and everyone is very proud to say ‘Eat my shorts,’ no matter if the occasion or context calls for it.”

“Have they not been going to school all this time, sir?” Jed asked, and Mr. Khouri shook his head.

“No. A few teachers have been hired or else volunteered to teach regularly at the haven, but it’s—err—not the most ideal of classrooms.” He shrugged. “So I suggested that we take advantage of our vacant school over the holidays and let them learn in the lap of luxury.”

Sam laughed as Mr. Khouri swept his arms out to take in our little brick school by the sea. And then someone blew a whistle behind him and Mr. Khouri said he had to go.

“You’re welcome to stop by again if you want,” he said. “These children are very curious about all of you.”

“About us?” Keira pointed at herself.

He nodded. “All of you local kids—they think you live in paradise. In fact, I’d say they’re more curious about you than you are of them.”

Then Mr. Khouri’s eyes seemed to light up, and he opened his clipboard folder to unclip a piece of paper that he rolled up and passed through one of the diamonds of the fence. He motioned at Aidan to take it, which he reluctantly did.

“I’m going to start posting these around town, but since you’re here . . .”

We each let our bikes go and crash to the ground so we could crowd around Aidan and read over his shoulder. It was a flyer with a pretty terrible drawing of a soccer ball, net, and stick-figure goalie that read:

ALBANIANS vs. AUSTRALIANS

Sign up for a friendly game of community soccer at the Safe Haven: Sunday 1 August

Under 18s and Over 18s matches

“The haven would like to organize a friendly game of soccer in a few weeks’ time, and we’re looking for players to fill out a local side,” Mr. Khouri said.

Aidan started rolling the paper back up, but Jed snatched it from his hand to read more closely.

“Would you consider putting your talents as goalie to good use?”

I looked up to see Mr. Khouri’s eyes trained on Aidan. Jed and a bunch of other boys played, too, but only for fun during lunch—Aidan was in junior leagues and easily the best soccer player at PNP for his age group, and maybe even the whole of Sorrento.

Aidan scratched under his chin where his helmet strap sat and shrugged. “I don’t think my dad will let me, sir.”

“Will you at least ask him?”

The sound of a whistle came again and Mr. Khouri apologized and said he really had to run. We watched him jog back inside while we picked our bikes back up.