SAM
“Want to play marbles?” Zack asks at recess time. We join a group of boys kneeling on the ground, and Zack pulls out a small green bag. “You can share mine today.” He gives me three. They’re the see-through kind with colors spreading out like feathers in the middle. I look closely at the blue one; it’s not plain blue, but has two shades, just like my favorite one at home. I hold it tight in my fist, my tummy aching for home so bad.
I watch the other boys make triangles with their fingers, screwing up their eyes as they get ready to flick their marbles. I sit on the ground with them. The smell of hot tarmac makes me think of the boardwalk, burning my feet in the hot summers. The memory hits me hard in the gut, and my eyes sting with tears. But I blink them away and make myself think of the game instead. I’ve always been pretty good at marbles. I’ll show them what I can do. I lie down, taking my time to line my marble up. With one eye screwed up tight, I flick it with just the right amount of force. Too much and it will fly past the target. Too little, and it won’t make it far enough.
Yes!
“Pas mal,” one of the bigger boys says. He means not bad, which means really good actually. It feels like when a teacher says your work is excellent, but it’s an even better feeling.
I look at the boy. “Merci.”
He nods at me. A nod like that is a sure sign of respect.
Another boy pushes me out of the way. “Mais dépêche-toi. La cloche va sonner.”
I understand what he said—the bell is going to ring. French words are creeping into my head like ghosts walking through walls. I don’t mind so much, but there’s no way I’ll ever speak the language.
After recess, we have music. Zack tells me that they call the teacher Tonton Marius, because he’s from the south. I must look blank, because he adds, “You know, from Marcel Pagnol.”
“Who’s he?”
“Mon Dieu! You really don’t know anything, do you? He’s a famous writer and he makes films, and the main character from his best books is called Marius and is from the south. Haven’t you seen Manon des Sources? It came out last year.”
I shake my head, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. I’m not used to being the one who doesn’t get stuff.
“I went to America once,” Zack says in a softer voice. “But I can’t remember it—I was only one. My dad said he’d take me back when I was older. Is it true everyone has a TV there?”
“I guess so.” Everyone I know has one, but I’m not sure that means every single person in America does.
“Wow! Is everyone rich?”
“I don’t think so.” I remember the street sweeper. He didn’t look rich. I’ve never really thought about it.
After music with Tonton Marius, it’s math. I’ve always been pretty good at math, and there are no words involved, just a long list of sums. I get on with them quickly.
The teacher walks up and down the lines between the desks, tapping now and again on a desk with a ruler when she finds a mistake. She comes and stands over my desk. “Bien, Samuel, ça se voit que tu as déjà fait des mathématiques.” Her voice is soft, like a song. I look up and smile. I guess she just told me how well I’m doing. “Maintenant, il faut travailler ton français.”
Later, Zack says, “Do you want to come to my place after school?”
“You bet!” Anything’s better than going back to the dreary apartment. “Can you get your mom to ask Sarah?”
“Who’s Sarah?”
“The lady who picks me up.”
“What? I thought she was your mom.”
“No, my mom’s in America.”
“But Monsieur Leplane said you were coming to Paris to live with your parents. He said you’d been moved—displaced, he said, ’cause of the war.”
“Did he? Well, he doesn’t know the whole story. It’s secret.”
“Secret? What do you mean?”
“I’m not really supposed to talk about it.”
“But I’m real good at keeping secrets. Swear on my life.” He puts his hand over his heart and looks so serious it makes me want to laugh.
“I’ll tell you as soon as I can, Zack, promise. Just not yet.”
“Okay.” Zack shakes my hand. It makes me feel real grown up.
“But I’m sure Sarah will let me come.”
So, as planned between us, after school, Zack gets his mother to ask Pretend Mom if I can come for a play date. She looks pleased with the idea, smiling over at me as if it’s the best news she’s ever heard.
“Come on, she said yes.” Zack pulls me along. I glance back and see Pretend Mom following us, chatting away to Zack’s mom.
“Is she coming too?” I ask.
He looks back at them. “Yeah, guess so. Why?”
“Nothing, just wondered.” Damn! She’s probably telling Zack’s mom the whole story. Now Zack will find out. And then he’ll know I lied to him and that will be the end of our friendship. What can I do?
“Zack,” I say, “I have to tell you a secret. When we’re on our own.”