awayâ but even if he saved his own skin, theyâdfind the packet, and that would mean trouble for everyone. Yossi reached another corner and glanced back. They were less than a block away. Winded, he glanced around, seeking an escape. The grocerâs where theyâd got the rotten eggs! It was up ahead, and Yossi remembered there was an alley behind it. He darted into the narrow passageway between the grocerâs and the shop next door, and turned into the alley. The wooden crate behind the grocerâs was overflowing with spoiled vegetables, rotten fruit, sawdust and broken eggs. Wedging himself between the back of the building and the crate, Yossi crouched down, his nose filling with putrid smells.
Footsteps pounded up the passageway, then thundered past his hiding place. âWhereâd he go?â the supervisor yelled.
âI know he came this way,â Max said, walking right past the crate.
The supervisor paced back and forth. âWell, thereâs no sign of him.â
âBut I saw himââ
âPhew! It stinks!â the supervisor said. âCome on, letâs go.â
They disappeared down the passageway.
When their footsteps had faded, Yossi eased out from behind the crate. He snuck through the passageway and looked down the street. Max and the supervisor were a block away. Yossi turned in the opposite direction, running as quickly as he could, reaching back with both hands to steady the bundle. Heâd gone half a block when he heard, âThere he is! Get him!â
They must have turned around and seen him! Panting, zigzagging from street to street, not sure where he was, Yossi ranâ¦ranâ¦. Turning down an alley, he found himself at the ice rink. And there were the French boys, skating back and forth, sticks in hand.
âHelp!â Yossi cried in Yiddish, then sank to his knees at the edge of the ice.
The tall blond boyâthe one whoâd told Yossi the name of the gameâskated over. The other boys gathered around.
âBundleâ¦packetâ¦,â Yossi panted in Yiddish, pointing to his load. âSteinerâs⦠theyâre comingâ¦â He looked over his shoulder fearfully. âHide me!â He put his arms over his head. â
Sâil vous plait!
â he added desperately, hoping heâd got the words right.
For a long moment the blond boy stared at Yossi. He peered up the street. Then he sprang into action. Speaking rapidly to the others in French, he beckoned toward the end of the rink, where the burly boy in the red stocking cap was standing in front of the snowbank. The burly boy skated over. The blond boy ripped the bundle from Yossiâs back and handed it to the burly boy, who was quickly joined by two others. Digging with their hockey sticks, they quickly hollowed out a space in the snowbank, shoved the bundle into it and covered it with snow.
The blond boy led Yossi across the ice, holding Yossiâs elbow as his booted feet slipped and slid. He thrust Yossi in front of the snowbank and switched Yossiâswoven cap with the red stocking cap of the burly boy. He shoved the boyâs stick into Yossiâs hands. Shouting something at the others, he batted the lump of coal down the ice. The game resumed, just as Max and the supervisor came running down the street.
Leaning on the stick for balance, Yossi watched the two visitors out of the corner of his eye.
âNot again,â Max cried, stamping his foot.
âWhere is he?â the supervisor said.
âHe canât have just disappeared!â
The supervisor shrugged. Edging closer to the ice, he called in a mixture of Yiddish and English, âYou boys! Did you see a boy go by? With a big bundle on his back?â He gestured to indicate the bundle.
The boys shrugged and shook their heads as if they had no idea what he was talking about. They continued their game, zooming up and down the ice. The blond boy got control of the
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley