Skating with the Statue of Liberty by Susan Lynn Meyer Read Free Book Online Page B

mouth. “Geef me a Frrrrench keeess!”
    Gustave felt all the grinning faces pushing in at him. He had no idea what to do.
    “Geez!” Disappointment flickered over her face. She half sauntered, half ran back to the other girls as they screamed with laughter, throwing flirtatious glances at Gustave. The boys at Gustave’s table were laughing too, and one of them reached across and poked his shoulder. Gustave heard the name “Martha” several times. Leo was scowling. He shoved the boy next to him, a bottle fell over, and milk poured across the table. Gustave jumped up, but some of the milk had already splashed onto his pants. Now he had to go through the rest ofthe school day with his pants wet and smelling like sour milk.
    At the next table over, September Rose and her friend Lisa were the only people in the whole cafeteria who didn’t seem to be laughing at him. September Rose flashed him a sympathetic glance. Then, almost as if she hadn’t meant to do it, she dropped her eyes back down to her lunch, picked up a hard-boiled egg, dipped it carefully in a small pile of salt, and started eating again.

10
    T he air outside the school building was cold, and it smelled as if it might snow again soon. Gustave walked home slowly, climbing over grimy mounds of ice at the curb and looking in the shop windows. A five-and-dime he had passed on the way to school that morning now had a red, white, and blue poster in the window with an American flag on it. Next door was a candy store. A few buildings over, the warm smell of spicy tomato sauce drifted out of Mama Regina’s Italian restaurant. And beside Mama Regina’s was a clothing store. Gustave stopped and studied the gray pants, crisp white shirt, and dark tie and jacket on the boy mannequin standing in the window. He had never cared about clothes before, but it wouldn’t be so obvious that he was a refugee if he had clothes like that.
    As he approached the corner of Amsterdam and West 91st Street, Gustave smelled the familiar aromaof Quong’s Hand Laundry, a mixture of steam and perfumed soap. He glanced in to see if Mr. Quong’s cat was in her usual spot on the blanket in the corner of the store window. Yes, there she was. Beyond her he saw a sign he hadn’t noticed before. BARGAIN: ABANDONED CLOTHES . He had figured out the word “bargain” already from seeing it everywhere in stores. And “clothes” he knew. Hesitantly, Gustave pushed open the door. A bell tinkled. Inside, it was warm, and a radio on the shelf was playing jaunty piano music as a woman’s voice sang a lilting song. The cat in the window meowed, stretched luxuriously, and then jumped up and ran over to him. Gustave squatted and petted her for a moment, then walked over to the small rack of clothing in the corner. She followed him, rubbing against his ankles.
    The clothing on the “bargain” rack was an odd assortment: some men’s shirts in different sizes; a few little girls’ dresses, one with a duck embroidered on the front pocket; and a pale yellow woman’s blouse with the shadow of a stain on the collar. The clothes weren’t new. They must be washing that people had never picked up. Between the blouse and a large gray pair of men’s trousers, Gustave saw one pair of boys’ pants, navy blue, sturdy, and about his size. They were definitely long enough to go down over his ankles, and suddenly he wanted them badly. He found the price tag. Two dollars. Not as expensive as new pants, surely, but still, it was too much money. He couldn’t ask his parents. Papa hadn’t even found a job yet. Reluctantly, Gustave slid the pants back onto the rack.
    “Can I help you?” A short, elderly Chinese man had come out of the back of the laundry and was peering at him curiously.
    “No.” Gustave felt like an imposter. There wasn’t so much as a penny in his pockets. What was that American sentence? He had heard it a few times while shopping with Papa. “I’m just seeing.”
    Mr. Quong squinted at