America
Design: Serena Chenery
Development & Marketing: Kieran O’Shea
Published by Apprentice House
Apprentice House
Loyola University Maryland
4501 N. Charles Street
Baltimore, MD 21210
410.617.5265 • 410.617.2198 (fax)
www.ApprenticeHouse.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
PROLOGUE
October 1968
I’ve never been this scared of anyone before in my whole life.
That’s why I had to lie to my sister, Mentayer, who’s been watching out for me since Grandma had her stroke last summer. I never ever lied to Grandma in my whole life, and I only lied to Mentayer once before. Until now. I can’t tell her why I’m so scared because if she knows, they’ll come after her. Maybe I can tell Ms. Sylvia. Maybe she can help.
Ms. Sylvia’s my normal teacher, but because of the teachers’ strike, she has to be the principal for the whole school, which is why I’m in the main office now, waiting for her.
“Markus, what are you doing here?”
I jump and start to stand up. But my head is fuzzy and I fall back down on the bench. Ms. Sylvia lifts up the end of the counter and comes and sits next to me. I look down at the floor.
I try to open my mouth but it’s stuck. I lift my shoulders and they stay stuck there.
“Where’s your sister?” Ms. Sylvia’s voice is higher than usual.
“I told Mentayer to go without me.” I look down at my feet, pull them out from under the bench without picking them up, then push them back under the bench again. I pick at the zipper on my jacket, try to pull it up and down. But it’s stuck, too.
“You’re shaking.” She puts her arm around my shoulders and pulls me up from the bench. I let her steer me behind the counter to where the door to the principal’s office is hidden behind the filing cabinet. She holds my hand to go in.
It’s as big as a gymnasium inside. The ceiling seems almost up to the sky.
“Now sit down and tell me what’s going on.” Ms. Sylvia points to a chair along the wall. I sit on the edge of it and tap my feet on the floor, first the left one then the right one, over and over, back and forth. She brings a chair next to me and sits down. I don’t know where to start, how far back to go, how to explain everything. Mentayer says I don’t always think things through. Maybe she’s right.
“What is it, Markus? Did something happen?”
I look up at her sideways. If she guesses, then it isn’t like I told.
“What has you so frightened?” She puts her arm around me, pulls me close.
I want to tell her. I want her to make everything okay. But I don’t know if I should tell her all of it or part of it. I wait for her to make another guess, but all she does is look at me and bite her bottom lip. Then she crouches down and twists her body so she’s looking straight at me but I can’t look at her.
“You can tell me,” she says. “It’s okay.” She nods and smiles. Her eyebrows are up in her forehead. She blows some air out through her mouth and it makes an impatient sound, but that can’t be what it is, because Ms. Sylvia never loses her patience.
She puts her hand on mine and squeezes it. “Maybe it’s something we should tell the police?” she says.
I jerk my head up and look at her. I move over to the other side of the chair, farther away. “No. No. Not the cops.” I turn away from her and stare at the dark brown wood on the wall. I was wrong. Ms. Sylvia can’t help. She doesn’t understand. I shouldn’t have come.
“Look at me, Markus. Please. Tell me what’s going on.”
I look at her but only sideways. “It’s okay, Ms. Sylvia. I’m fine now.”
She doesn’t believe me. She keeps asking questions, and I keep saying “It’s okay, I’m fine” so she won’t call the cops. Maybe if I keep saying it, it won’t happen to me, and I won’t be scared anymore, and I will be fine.
“We’ll talk more about this later,” she says. “Frank is out back waiting. We’ll drive you to your uncle’s.”
I have to stay at my uncle’s apartment until Grandma gets out of the hospital. I wish I could stay with Ms. Sylvia and her husband, Frank, like Mentayer gets to.
A loud bang on the door makes me jump. Three tall men walk in with a big dog on a leash. They look like some of the men who hang around on the street corner, but I don’t recognize any of them. Ms. Sylvia smiles like she’s happy to see them.
“Have a good evening, Mrs. Waters,” one of them says. “You can go home now.”
“Wonderful,” she says. “Markus and I are ready to leave.”
She holds out her hand and I take it.
“Have a good night,” she says to the men, “and thank you.”
We walk out the door at the back of the school. Some of the teachers who are striking are waiting in the parking lot. They start shouting at Ms. Sylvia. They say mean things. Lines crinkle up on her forehead, the kind Grandma gets sometimes when she watches the news on TV.
“Hey, buddy,” Frank says. “I hear you stayed to help your teacher out today. Mighty nice of you.”
Ms. Sylvia’s busy getting into the van and doesn’t hear him, so I don’t have to lie to her again. Next to my sister and Grandma, she is the next best person I love in the whole world.
“You okay, Markus?” She turns around and looks at me in the back seat. The lines are back on her forehead.
I nod and smile to make the lines go away, and they do. She smiles and turns around and looks out the front window until we get to my uncle’s apartment building. Frank double-parks in front and I reach for the door handle.
“Thank you for the ride,” I say, the way Grandma taught me.
“You sure you’re okay?” Ms. Sylvia asks. “Want me to walk you in?”
“I’m fine,” I say. “Thank you.”
I go to the front door of the building, then turn around and smile and wave. Ms. Sylvia waves and smiles back. I open the outside door, and before going in, I turn and wave one more time. Their van pulls away and moves down the street. I walk up the steps, pass the
