Children of Exile Read Online Free PDF Page A

behave.”
    A second later he was completely still again, an unseeing, unmoving crossed-arm statue.
    â€œYeah, thanks a lot, Edwy ,” I muttered. “So nice of you to help.”
    I was counting on Edwy to hear the sarcasm in my voice—and counting on Bobo to be too young to notice.
    I couldn’t deal with Edwy just then.
    I stepped on down the aisle to the next row of crying, terrified children who needed my help.
    It was only later, when we were buckled in and about to take off, and I was whispering to Bobo, “We’re fine, we’re fine, we’re going home and you’ll love it there, everything’s going to be okay,” that I let myself think of Edwy again. The image popped into my mind of him sitting like a statue, a smirk frozen on his face. Except—he hadn’t actually stayed perfectly still. There had been the slightest movement in the corner of his eye. Had it been a tic? A twitch? A mostly hidden wink?
    Or was it a tear?
    Had Edwy been crying too?

CHAPTER FOUR
    â€œWhere is home?” Bobo asked.
    We were taking off; I had to rip my attention away from the window to answer him.
    â€œIt’s over the mountains and across the sea,” I said. “Remember? You learned about it in school.”
    I could have told him all sorts of names just then: Atlantic, Pacific, Amazon, Nile, Kilimanjaro, Everest, Denali . . . I could have taught him the geography of the entire planet. I could have told him tidbits about all sorts of places: how the golden rice he loved to eat came from the Philippines and Taiwan and America; how the Freds had taken their name from the Norwegian word for peace, since a famous peace prize was given out in Norway. But I didn’t say anything else, because I didn’t want to miss my last glimpse of Fredtown.
    It looked so small now.
    A moment ago we’d been on the ground, and just our one moment of traveling had made the crowd of Freds at theairport shrink down so completely that I had to squint to be sure they were still there. Then Fredtown was just tile roofs and leafy trees and the grid of streets; then the streets and the trees and the roofs seemed to merge, and the only feature I could make out for sure was the broad smear of green in the middle of Fredtown that had to be the park.
    â€œI want to see!” Bobo said, tugging on my arm.
    Just one moment, I thought. I just wanted one moment to myself, to feel my own feelings and think my own thoughts. And to say good-bye in my own way.
    But I sat back so Bobo could see out the window too. He strained forward against his seat belt.
    â€œClouds,” he said. “We’re swimming in clouds.”
    I looked again—he was right. Fredtown was too far behind us to see anymore, and now we were surrounded by what seemed to be white cotton batting. From school, I knew the clouds were just water vapor, but it looked like we could step out the window onto the nearest cloud; it looked like we could bounce and tumble and jump from cloud to cloud like they were the greatest playground ever.
    Maybe we would do that, all us kids from Fredtown. Maybe we’d just stay in the clouds and play forever. And never go home.
    A sudden gap opened in the clouds, and I gasped.
    â€œOh, look, Bobo, it’s the Old One,” I said. “The mountainwe always see far off in the distance from Fredtown—this is what it looks like from above.”
    Below us, the mountain was a mottled green and brown—no, those were just shadows from the clouds. My eyes were playing tricks. The mountain itself was solid rock, strong and enduring, a gentle watchman who’d stood by Fredtown for as long as anyone could remember. I blinked back tears—I hadn’t thought I’d get this one last glimpse. If I could, I wouldn’t stay and play in the clouds; I’d stay and gaze at the Old One.
    â€œTake it with us,” Bobo demanded. “Take Old One, too!”
    He was