My Own Revolution Read Online Free PDF

lovely sweetheart. Or a Beatle’s girlfriend. I see a beautiful girl who could be, should be, my girlfriend.
    I step back onto the next step, level with Bozek. “Stay away from her,” I say quietly.
    “Oh, really,” he says, not seeming to care that I tower over him.
    Now he’s more interested than ever.
    I drop my books and grab the red Young Pioneer scarf around his neck.
    Karel pries my fingers loose. “Don’t, Patrik.”
    “You don’t want to get in trouble,” Emil says.
    Karel takes me by the forearm. Even though I loom over him, he leads me away. Emil gathers my books off the steps.
    Everyone is staring. “Let me go.”
    “Not yet,” says Karel.
    Not until we get to the street does he release me.
    When I look back, Bozek is moving down the steps toward Danika.
    “You can’t do anything about it, Patrik. Nothing,” says Karel. “Don’t make an idiot of yourself.”
    “Forget her,” says Emil. “There are plenty of other girls.”
    Not like her,
I want to shout. But I force myself to look away, saying, “Okay, okay. But leave me alone now. I promise I won’t go back. I won’t.”
    Wandering into a clump of trees, I sit down with my back against the trunk.
    My friends stand around.
    “You don’t have to babysit me.”
    “Then don’t do anything stupid,” says Emil. “Promise?”
    “Promise.”
    And then they’re off and I’m left with a pile of chewing-gum wrappers and old beer bottles. Behind me, Bozek, the son of a party member, is moving in on Danika.
    I take off my red Young Pioneer scarf and knot and unknot it. Any minute now, Danika will pass by here. When she does, I’ll step out and walk her home.
    But she doesn’t come. I wait for her until the tree shadows grow heavy.
    Has she —? The thought makes my stomach flip. Has she gone off with Bozek?

I have to find her. I check out hiding places in the lanes, behind bushes. A place where a boy could pull in a girl for a quick kiss. But there’s nobody.
    I go back to our building and up the 115 steps to our apartment to lie in wait.
    I position myself at the open window, my heart doing cartwheels.
    Sure enough, when she comes, she’s with him. They come up the walk together. My heart twists. I peer out, but keep hidden. She mustn’t think I’m spying on her.
    She and Bozek are standing close. The schoolbooks in their arms almost touch. They’re both still wearing their red scarves. They’re still wearing those even though it’s after school and they no longer have to demonstrate party loyalty.
    They’re idling on the walk, which is edged with flowers that Mrs. Smutny planted, kneeling in those cold fall days, pressing bulbs into the soil with her arthritic fingers. They’re looking into each other’s eyes right where Danika and I have played jump rope and hopscotch.
    I lift my camera over the windowsill and, without sighting, snap a photo of her. At the last second, before I can lift my finger, Bozek moves into the frame. Now I have mistakenly photographed not just Danika, but Danika and Bozek.
    “Patrik!”
Mami calls. “Come for supper.”
    “In a minute,” I call back. “I’m finishing some homework.”
    I can’t leave while Danika is down there. I have to know what happens. I can’t just leave these two unobserved. Maybe she’ll come up when the light falls. And Bozek will go away. Far away to wherever he lives. And then I can eat.
    At last he leans a little closer. The books touch. Is she holding hers like a barrier? Or does she tilt them just to the side so that Bozek can edge closer? I lean farther out.
    Too far. Danika looks up, sees me, waves. She calls out, “I see you up there, Patrik!”
    But she doesn’t guiltily draw back from him. She doesn’t think I care.
    Shielding his eyes with one hand, Bozek looks up, too. He waves as well. I wave back. But I’m not waving to him.
    Finally they whisper something together, laugh together, and Bozek goes off down the walk, looking back once, then again. I hear