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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

“Do you ever think that Luca and your mom would have had a bunch of kids, if your . . .” Her cheeks flushed. “You totally don’t have to answer that! I just meant it’s weird to think how much everything has changed for you, you know?”

I nodded, but I also knew that she meant how much things had changed between us, too, and how we weren’t the same anymore.

And then I suggested we pull out our old cootie catchers and spend the rest of the day trying to see what would come next, just by choosing the right combination of colors and numbers and following the old familiar patterns.

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32

Whales in the Atrium

Nora was sitting in the atrium garden for the first time in a while when Sam and I visited after school. Out from behind the curtain and in the open air again.

“You go,” I said to Sam, and I stopped at the door to the atrium. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Sam looked at me and tried to raise an eyebrow, but he was no Mr. Khouri.

She watched me as I walked in. There were a few other people in the garden that day. Another pregnant woman wearing the same green bracelet as Anika and Nora, for Green Wing, and visitors in regular clothes, who were pointing up to the ceiling and admiring the hanging plants.

Nora had her usual long white gown on, plus the same style of slippers that Anika wore. Her hair was braided again, and today she was wearing an old, battered brown corduroy jacket that was so big on her she’d had to push the sleeves halfway up her arms.

I walked to where she was sitting and she looked me up and down.

“Mirëdita!” I said, and I was proud of how good I’d got at the greeting.

She frowned and then replied quietly “Çkemi,” which sounded like “she-kemay.”

I motioned at the bench seat beside her, and she nodded slightly, so I dumped my bag off my shoulder and sat down. She turned a little to face me, and I tried to ask how the baby was.

I pointed at her stomach and then shrugged my shoulders like a cartoon drawing of a person wondering—hands raised as if I were carrying two dinner plates. She kept frowning at me.

I knew two words in Albanian by then—and one of them I’d only learned a few days earlier when Luca told us the story of a field trip he’d been on with the haven kids one afternoon. I shrugged again and said, “Mirëdita, balenë.” I was about to try to explain that it was all I knew, when Nora’s eyes narrowed.