Part 20 (1/2)
”I'd dropped the wrong card. Your father's card. So I gave it to her. And you know what she did?”
They looked at each other.
”She gave us all ration cards. That's what she did.” And Mama opened her mouth and picked up her song again, her voice rising lightly, effortlessly as a bird.
”Haven't you heard?” Philippe was saying to Jean-Michel. ”That's a boche salute!”
Julien, behind them, threw Benjamin a wink. ”Toldja they'd listen,” he said under his breath. A rare smile bloomed briefly on Benjamin's face.
”No, it's not,” hissed Lucien from across the aisle. ”Not when it's our flag.”
”Well doesn't it look a little funny? And then getting all worked up about the Jews-the boches started that, y'know-”
”The marshal's only saying the truth!”
Papa's ruler rapped twice across his desk. ”Lucien, would you care to share with us whatever it is you find so fascinating?”
Lucien reddened. ”Uh, non m'sieur. Sorry, m'sieur.”
Too bad, thought Julien. Papa would have told him a thing or two.
They'd been telling everyone a thing or two, he and his friends. Telling everyone the truth. Some of the farm kids had never seen a newsreel in their lives; how were they to know? Somebody had to tell them.
Even Roland had never seen one. They'd stood by the wall at break that first day, as the whole school buzzed about what was wrong with Astier, and Julien and Jean-Pierre had described that newsreel of a Hitler rally, with ma.s.sive, frenzied crowds all saluting and screaming ”Heil!” over and over for what seemed like hours.
He also told Roland, privately, how Benjamin could have lost his citizens.h.i.+p. ”Don't tell him, please,” he said. ”He doesn't know. And it's already bad enough for him.”
”Sure.” Roland's eyes glinted. ”Some other people are gonna hear it though. I can't believe that.”
Everyone they knew, anyone who would listen to a word they said, heard the message. Everyone in their cla.s.s, everyone from last year's soccer teams. Roland repeated the description of the rally to all his friends on neighboring farms. And to his parents, who told it in their Fellows.h.i.+p meeting. Roland's brother, Louis the schemer, raised his hand in his history cla.s.s to ask Papa why he didn't salute the flag, and the next morning, a good third of the cinquieme cla.s.s descended on Julien's group at the wall during the flag salute, hollering that Petain was a traitor. Julien had to laugh. He wondered if he'd been like that, too, at thirteen.
After cla.s.s that day, as boys poured out the doors into the fall suns.h.i.+ne, Philippe turned to him. ”Hey, Julien,” he said. ”We gonna do any soccer this year?”
”Open games,” said Julien. He and his group stood by the wall in the suns.h.i.+ne, ignoring the last flag salute of the week. ”Eleven men on each team, but mix 'em up every time. Or every other time. Whaddya think?”
”Yeah,” said Dominique happily.
”Where're we gonna get twenty-two guys?”
”Half the quatrieme cla.s.s would jump at the chance, I mean last year-”
”Half the quatrieme cla.s.s is ten people!”
”What's wrong with the guys we had last year?” said Philippe. ”Are we doing this without Henri? It's his ball.”
”You know he won't go for the open-game thing.”
Julien felt light-headed. Floating. He heard his own voice speaking quietly.
”I have a ball.”
Silence fell. They were all looking at him.
”Then,” said Roland softly, ”we don't need him.”
Dominique was looking over Julien's shoulder. Grinning. ”Hey, Gilles,” he said.
Julien's head whipped round. Gilles sauntered up to them, dropped his cartable on the pile, and sat on the wall.
”Hey, Gilles, ca va?” He glanced over at the flag salute. ”You're not going?”
”I'm late.”
”They're not done yet.”
Gilles shrugged, then looked Julien in the eye. ”Okay, if you really wanna know, I don't like that salute.”
”What's Henri gonna say?” asked Roland with his crooked smile.
”Y'know,” said Gilles, ”I don't really care.”
Philippe snorted. ”Yeah. Mister King of France needs to get off his high horse these days. He wants us all to follow him around telling the sixiemes they're unpatriotic if they don't salute.”
Gilles nodded. ”I'm tired of it.”
Julien and Roland looked at each other. ”Well,” said Julien, ”I don't know if you want to join us, then.”
”Yeah,” said Roland. ”We've been going around telling the sixiemes they're unpatriotic if they do salute.”
They laughed. The French flag was snapping in the breeze, and the circle was breaking up. Julien glanced over. Sure enough.
”Here he comes, guys,” said Philippe.
”Watch out, it's the king.”
”Make way! Make way!”
”Hey, where's his white horse?”
There was laughter; but Henri was close now, and his face was set.
”Gilles,” said Henri crisply, ignoring the rest of them. ”We missed you.”
”I was late. And it's voluntary.”
”Voluntary!” spat Henri. ”I don't know what's come over this school. I've never seen such a limp bunch of little girls in my life. Come on, Gilles. Tell me the truth.” His eyes were hard with challenge, cold as ice.