chapter sixteen
I am ten now, with a broken heart and bleeding feet and an empty stomach. And once again I’m walking on endless roads toward the unknown with Gloria and our gear. We’re refugees without refuge, and I really believe that I’ve caught a despair.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk!” Gloria says. “If I give you a thorough inspection, Koumaïl, I’m sure that I won’t find any parasites!”
I shrug. “Don’t bother. I’m older. I know that what I feel has nothing to do with lice.”
Abruptly Gloria stops walking and gives me a sideways glance. She throws the gear on the ground and opens it. We are in the middle of a snow-covered field, under a heavy sky filled with circling crows. What is she doing? I wonder. Does she think I want to camp here?
“It’s true that you’ve grown a lot, Koumaïl,” she says as she looks into the opening of the gear. “It’s time that I confide in you what my secret remedy is.”
I sigh. The snow is drenching my pants up to the knees and I ache all over. We’ve walked for at least a million kilometers. The scientists at Souma-Soula ordered us to evacuate from what they classified as a “dangerous zone.” What can Gloria possibly find to make me feel better? I want to know. Is she going to pull Suki, Maya, and Stambek out of her bag like a magician?
“Ah, here we are!” Gloria smiles as she shows me her old tin box.
She removes her gloves, and for the first time she opens the box in front of me. In spite of my bad mood, curiosity makes me come closer.
“I knew that one day we would need this,” Gloria says. “And that day has come.”
At first I see nothing but a pile of papers. Then Gloria unfolds them, and I stare wide-eyed when I understand what they are: a fat wad of bank notes—of American dollars. And, rolled inside them, two small notebooks with the universal word “passport.” Inside the passports are lines written in an alphabet I can’t read.
“This passport is in your name: Blaise Fortune,” Gloria explains. “The other one is your mother’s passport: Jeanne Fortune. The pictures are missing, but we’ll get new ones before we board.”
“Board? But …”
I’ve grown up, it’s true, but I’m not sure that I understand. Gloria laughs when she sees the puzzled expression on my face.
“The one and only remedy against despair, Koumaïl, is hope! That’s what I have in my box: hope!”
She puts the lid back on, satisfied.
“We’re going to use the passports?” I ask in disbelief.
“Exactly!”
“But … you’re going to take my mother’s place, then?”
“Yes.” Gloria smiles. “And at last you will officially be Monsieur Blaise.”
I can’t believe my ears. Around us there is only snow, sky, and crows, a kind of hazy landscape without limits, where dollars and passports are of no use.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“To France!” Gloria answers cheerfully as she lifts the gear over her back. “So, are you coming?”