Now the sunshine baked Sarah’s arms, freckled from the frolic of a carefree summer concluded. As Sarah’s stomach groaned with the weight of her mother’s veal sofrito and fasolia green beans, Benjamin paused beside a light post. He set his book upon the rail and wiped his hands against his black trousers. Then he peered down at the tiny ripples of cerulean sea and eventually squinted out at the distant lumps of forested mountains and land.

“Sarah, on the Sabbath we rest, but the sea never does. It’s always moving to new places.”

“That’s true.” Sarah watched the sea and its gentle waves, and wondered where they were off to. She’d never been outside of Corfu, whereas the sea had such exotic stories to tell. “It’s a very wise thing to say.”

Sarah went to pat Benjamin’s hand, but before she could do so, a cluster of boys around Benjamin’s age ran past. One of them, a tall boy with a face sharp like a fox, sang, “There goes Benjamin Batis with his flaming-red hair and his lovely, little dress.” The other boys pealed with laughter, trouncing along the shoreline.

In a flash, Sarah’s feet took off. When she caught up with the fox boy, she grabbed him by his sleeve.

“Hey!” he protested. “You’ll rip it.”

“Rip it! I have a mind to rip it right off! Don’t you ever speak to my brother like that again. Don’t you ever! Do you hear?” Sarah tightened her grip on his sleeve and was assuaged when the boy’s face paled, sufficiently spooked.

“Signomi, signomi. I didn’t mean—”

“You did mean. Next time you pass my brother, you don’t even look in his direction, you understand?”

“I understand.”

The fox boy swiveled his head, like Sarah was going to punch him or something. Not so brave after all, fox boy, eh? “Good.” Sarah released her grip. “Go.”

But the fox boy and his friends didn’t move, frozen as a column of Italian soldiers marched by with their long rifles and circular hard hats. Sarah recognized one, a kind general for whom she’d helped bargain for strawberries in the market because she knew Italian and he didn’t know Greek.

Once the soldiers had passed, Sarah shouted again, “Go!” and this time the bullies darted away without laughter in their wake.

Sarah returned to a pensive Benjamin, staring off at the sea. She fingered one of the curls that wrapped around his ear.

“Do I look like a girl, Sarah?” Benjamin asked.

“You don’t,” she said firmly. She could just murder those boys. She really could.

“My pants are baggy. Like a dress, must be.”

“They don’t look like a dress. But perhaps we’ll have Baba make them tighter. You need to eat more!”

She smiled, but Benjamin didn’t smile back. “Why do they say things like that to me?”