Chapter 48

Nick twisted and turned in bed, trying to get comfortable with his ribs. At last sleep came.

I joined the other cadets milling the hallways, excited voices talking about how they will fight the Germans. The lieutenant came toward me. “You will accompany me everywhere! You are not to be trusted. You are a thief!”

I knew it was no use arguing. I swallowed my pride and waited.

“Come!” the lieutenant ordered. “We have new Gypsy prisoners to attend to.”

I followed him and a handful of other cadets to the Saumur internment camp. Since the first roundup, the camp had filled steadily. A dark stench hung over the buildings. I felt the bile rising from my stomach and willed the nausea to go away.

“Filth!” the lieutenant said under his breath but loud enough for me to hear.

We stepped through the huge entrance gate and surveyed the inhabitants—all dirty and ragged. Children, old women, a man with one leg, a boy who slobbered and rocked himself in a corner, a rabbi with a long beard and dirty robes, and Chaton’s father. I let out a gasp, and the lieutenant looked at me sharply. I added a cough, but the lieutenant saw my reaction. Was Chaton here too?

“You are to punish that man.” He held out his hand toward Chaton’s father.

“How?” I choked.

“Punish him as you were punished for your thievery.”

Punches and blows. I remained where I was, my arms hanging limply at my sides. Then the lieutenant shoved me toward Chaton’s father. I had so many questions for him, but first I must slap and punish him. I took a ragged breath, looked around at the cadets and the lieutenant waiting, and swung my fist, hitting her father in the stomach.

He replied with a grunt but nothing else.

“More!” the lieutenant said.

“Say something!” I begged. “Please!”

Chaton’s father’s eyes were slits of blackness.

With a sob, I hit him in the face next. The angles of the man’s cheeks and nose bruised my hand, and I wanted to suck on my smarting knuckles. The man didn’t make a sound as blood flowed from his nose, dripping onto his already dirty tunic.

“More!”

“I can’t!”

“I said more!” the lieutenant roared.

I swung my left fist in a feeble attempt to hit him under the chin. He reeled back but still made no sound.

“Make him ask for mercy!”

“He’ll never ask for mercy!” I shouted. “Don’t you see!”

“You are a coward and a thief!” the lieutenant said.

No, I wasn’t a coward or a thief.

Chaton, her mother, aunt, and grandmother were pushed into the camp.

“Non!” Chaton’s father finally yelled. “No more!”

Satisfied, the fox-faced lieutenant stepped back.

“You are done, cadet. Now I wish to take a stroll around.”

“Can I not wash my bloody knuckles first?”

“You may not!”

I followed wearily behind him. The lieutenant strode around the camp, staying away from the people, but looking in the dim cold barracks before pushing over a pot on the fire, spilling the contents into the dirt—vegetables and a thin broth.

“Clean that up!” he commanded to the old women, waiting and watching.

The women fell on the food, eating and scraping away the vegetables, putting some in pockets for later.

They passed a large metal grate on the ground. The lieutenant stopped and kicked at the side. “You there!”

I peered over the side. Four haunted faces looked up—three tiny and one big.

“Who are they?” I asked with a lump growing in my throat—horrified at what I had seen.

“Does it matter?” He spat on the ground. “Gypsies!”

“They are just people like us!”

The lieutenant turned, his face contorted. “They are not!”

“You’re wrong!” I said.

The lieutenant slapped my face. “Shut up!”

We came to another grate that was opened. Before I could stop them, the guards shoved Chaton’s mother, aunt, and grandmother into the hole; their cries rose as they hit the bottom with a thud. A guard held Chaton, who struggled toward the hole. I rushed to him and tried to grab Chaton’s arm. The lieutenant wrenched me back.

“No!” I screamed.

“In you go, you little hellcat,” the guard said as she tried to twist away from him. Her elbow caught him in the ribs, and he doubled over. He straightened and shoved her roughly into the hole.

I doubled over as the gorge burned up my throat.

I coughed and could contain my nausea no longer and threw up on the ground, the splatters streaking the lieutenant’s perfectly polished boots.

“Get him out of here!” the lieutenant ordered as a resounding boom filled the air.

“Hurry! No time to waste!” he said to the other cadets. “We must prepare to fight.”

The cadets led me to the school and left me there. Louis ran by and beckoned me to follow him.

****

Nick awoke the next morning with a headache and upset stomach. He remembered bits and pieces of his dream. Only the nausea remained. Was he catching something? Maybe he should stay home in bed.

“Mom!”

“Yes?” she called.

“I don’t feel very good. I feel like I could puke.”

She came into his room while putting on her earrings. “You have been pushing yourself with the extra work on the football field.” She came over and placed her hand on his forehead. “You are a bit warm. I’ll call the school.”

Nick climbed back in bed and closed his eyes. Would the dream come back?

****

—Where are you?— Cat —You sick?— Gary —Can you come over?— Cat —No. Sick.—

He spent the day sleeping, pushing away dreams, and willing his mind to be blank. He was tired of Jean Claude’s intrusion. “Go away!” he mumbled. “Leave me alone.”