The Day of the Pelican by Katherine Paterson Read Free Book Online

distant dream. The chestnuts were ripe now, and she had eaten so many she felt as though she might turn into one. But when they were gone, it would be winter in the foothills as well as up on the mountains. Meli kept thinking longingly of home, of the old house that had been school, and of her friends, especially Zana. There was an old saying: "You never really know someone till you've eaten a sack of salt together." Zana and she were too young to have eaten that much salt, that many meals together, but they had shared so much—their worries about school, about growing up—as, she supposed, girls anywhere might. Over and above these ordinary thoughts, they had agonized about their land and its people. What was to become of them if the Serbs kept pressing them down? It had been a comfort to talk to each other about their fears without any adult seeking to quiet them. More than the shared fears, though, there was the shared laughter. Even when the world about them was grim, they could always find something to giggle about.
    But whenever she thought of Zana, she couldn't help but remember that horrible day when the two of them had misbehaved, causing Mehmet to disappear.
If I had just not drawn that stupid picture of Mr. Uka looking like a pelican, Mehmet wouldn't have been arrested, and we would all be warm and safe in our own beds right now.
    The hills were filling up with families who had fled cities and towns below. Surely
their
being here was not all her fault. Indeed, each family seemed to have its own reasons for hiding in the camp, none of which had anything to do with her. She tried to comfort herself, blaming everything on Milosević and the Serbs, who wanted to get rid of everyone in Kosovo who wasn't Serbian, even though the Albanian Kosovars far outnumbered the Serbian ones. She had been born into a Kosovo that had, if not true independence, at least a degree of self-government as part of Yugoslavia. Baba, peace-loving Baba, had served his term in the Yugoslav army. Then Slobodan Milosević came to power, and he took away whatever independence the Kosovars had enjoyed under Tito.
Milosević is scared of us. There are too many Albanians poor and out of work in Kosovo. He sent his army and police down from Serbia to keep us under control. Yes, it's not my fault; it's his fault that we are here in the hills, cold and running out of food.
There were terrifying reports now of whole villages being slaughtered by the Serbian security forces, and rumors that the United Nations would soon be involved.
    "Why don't the Americans help us?" she asked Mehmet. Despite Mama's disapproval, every day Mehmet would sneak over to the military camp and get the news. The KLA had a shortwave radio. If Meli wanted to know what was going on, she had to ask her brother. "I thought you said that the Americans were going to help us."
    He made a rude noise with his mouth. "The Americans won't do anything. They re too busy trying to get rid of their president to pay attention to
us.
"
    ***
    Then one cold morning Mama made everything a little better. She had taken from her dwindling stores the last can of goulash. Meli's mouth watered as she watched Mama's strong fingers rip open the tab and plop the contents into the pot on the stove. When it was warm, Mama handed a spoon and the whole potful to Mehmet. He gobbled it down like a starved puppy.
He might have shared
was Meli's first thought, and then she realized that Mama was up to something.
    The flour for making bread was almost gone, so for the rest of them Mama was making a sort of gruel from pounded chestnuts on the gypsy stove. As she stirred this strange concoction, she said, "Mehmet, I think you should start a school for the younger children. All they do is shiver."
    Mehmet shrugged. "I don't have paper or pencils, much less books."
    "You can clear a place where it's flat near the fire and write in the dirt," Mama said. "At least you can help them with their letters and numbers."
    It