Boy, Everywhere , livre ebook

Old Barn Books - M. Dassu A.

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126 pages

English

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Description

This debut middle-grade novel chronicles the harrowing journey taken by Sami and his family from privilege to poverty, across countries and continents, from a comfortable life in Damascus, via a smuggler's den in Turkey, to a prison in Manchester. A story of survival, of family, of bravery ... In a world where we are told to see refugees as the 'other', this story will remind readers that 'they' are also 'us'.

Sujets

Children's

Informations

Publié par	Old Barn Books
Date de parution	22 octobre 2020
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781910646656
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

For everyone who had to leave everything
behind and start again

AN OLD BARN BOOK
First published in the UK, Australia and New Zealand
in 2020 by Old Barn Books Ltd
Copyright © 2020 by A. M. Dassu

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.
Old Barn Books Ltd
West Sussex, RH20 1JW
Email: info@oldbarnbooks.com
Web: www.oldbarnbooks.com
Follow us on facebook, twitter or instagram: @oldbarnbooks
Teaching resources for our books are available
to download from our website

ISBN: 978-1-91064-664-9
eBook ISBN: 9781910646656

Distributed in the UK and Ireland by Bounce Sales & Marketing Ltd
and in Australia and New Zealand by Walker Books Australia

UK edition edited by Emma Roberts
Cover design by kind permission of Lee & Low Books Inc.
Cover illustration by Zainab Daby Faidhi
Design by Mike Jolley
First UK edition

Publisher’s Note: whilst the author, in the course of writing this book, spoke to many people who had been through the experiences described, the characters and events in this story are fictitious and not based on any particular individuals or their life stories.

Chapter 1
It all started going wrong during English. It was the last lesson on Thursday before the weekend began, we’d just finished reading To Kill a Mockingbird and Miss Majida stood at the whiteboard going through some comprehension questions. I was scribbling them down, my head resting on my arm, when Leila tapped me on my shoulder from behind and handed me a note.
Are you coming ice-skating tomorrow?
I’d started writing back when the door flew open and Mr Abdo, our principal, burst into the room.
I shot up from my desk the second he entered and straightened my shoulders. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on Mr Abdo, their faces blank.
‘Pack your bags. You’re all to go home,’ he said, rubbing the creases on his tired, worn face. ‘See you back here on Sunday morning.’
We didn’t need telling twice. Everyone slapped their books shut and the room erupted into noisy chatter. My best friend Joseph turned to me and our eyes locked in confusion.
‘Your parents and guardians have been called and are on their way to collect you,’ Mr Abdo added, loosening the knot in his tie, his lips thin and tight, lines deepening across his brow.
‘But why, Sir?’ asked someone from the back of the class.
‘There’s been a bombing. This is not a drill, eighth grade. We need to get you all home. You know the protocol.’ A collective gasp rose from the room.
Through the sash windows, the sky was a clear blue. I couldn’t see any smoke. Everything looked normal. The old orange tree stood firm in the sunlit courtyard, the gold crescent moon on top of the mosque’s minaret gleamed in the distance. Behind it the red, white and black-striped flag on top of the church tower fluttered gently in the breeze, cars were hooting their horns and the newspaper seller was still shouting out to people passing by his stall.
Where had the bomb gone off? Panic prickled through me as I thought of home. I wished phones were allowed in school so I could just call to see if Mama, Baba and Sara were okay. I grabbed my bag to get my iPad, but remembered it wasn’t in there. ‘Joseph, get your tablet out,’ I said. ‘Just want to check what’s happened – I left my iPad at home.’
‘They won’t have bombed anywhere near us, Sami. Don’t worry,’ said Joseph, pulling his tablet out of his bag and swiping to log in. ‘What shall I type?’ he asked, leaning in towards me.
‘Google “bombing in Damascus”.’
After a second, he pursed his lips and said, ‘Nothing’s coming up.’ He showed me the error message – the internet was down for the second time that day.
My shoulders tensed. I quickly reminded myself that it was usually the outskirts of the city that were bombed. Most of Syria was torn apart because of the war, but no one had gotten close to Damascus.
‘Your mama and baba are at work, right?’ Joseph asked, his eyes focused on my forehead. I realised I was sweating and wiped the back of my arm across my face.
‘Yeah, Baba’s at the hospital but Mama worked from home today because Sara wasn’t feeling well. They should be at the mall now,’ I said, glancing at my Swatch. ‘She’s picking up my football boots before the trials.’
‘Well, no one’s ever bombed the centre. The government’s always on high alert. Just chill, bro,’ said Joseph, lightly pushing his fist into my shoulder before turning to put his tablet away.
He was right. But every time there was a bomb alert, I couldn’t help worrying. Damascus is safe, I told myself. I took a deep breath, gathered my books, and packed them into my bag while Mr Abdo spoke to Miss Majida. She had her hand over her mouth and looked like she was about to burst into tears.
A backpack pushed past my arm, followed by another – everyone was leaving.
‘They’re doing you a favour, Sami. You weren’t gonna pass the English test later anyway.’ I turned to find George grinning at me, then pushing Joseph. ‘Neither were you, sucker.’
Even at a time like this, George couldn’t help being an idiot. Maybe it was his way of showing he wasn’t nervous like me, but it was so annoying.
‘You’re the one that’s gonna fail, loser,’ said Joseph, sticking his face into George’s.
George sneered at Joseph. ‘Shut up! You’re so fat, the only English letters you know are K, F, C.’ He turned to me, raising his eyebrows and running his hands through his hair.
So dumb, I thought. George still hadn’t gotten over Joseph coming from a non-English-speaking school.
The class babble and sound of scraping chairs made it hard to think of a quick response, but I had to stick up for Joseph, whose cheeks were now the colour of tomatoes. I rolled my eyes at George. ‘We’ll see. K, F and C are still three more letters than you know. Did you stay up all week thinking of that one?’ His grin grew, so I added, ‘Should I use smaller words to make sure you understand what I’m saying?’ It wasn’t the greatest comeback but I couldn’t think of anything else.
George’s mini fan club, which consisted of exactly two friends, tugged him away.
‘Loser,’ I muttered as they left.
Joseph and I joined the stream of kids leaving the classroom. Mr Abdo was now speaking to Miss Majida at the door, but she stopped talking the second I drifted towards it.
Joseph clutched his backpack, his head lowered. He was unusually quiet. Ugh. George had gotten to him again.
‘You want to go to Damer’s for ice cream after the trials?’ I asked to cheer him up.
‘Yeah, of course, man!’ Joseph said, his eyes sparkling with excitement. ‘Then we can go again tomorrow after ice-skating.’ He grinned.
Mr Abdo marched past us. ‘Hang on,’ I said to Joseph and ran to catch up with him.
‘Um, Sir, we’re supposed to be going to football after school. Where should we wait?’ I asked, wondering if Mama had collected my football boots.
He picked up his pace and strode into the classroom next door to ours and started talking to the teacher inside. I shrugged at Joseph as he caught up with me.
We rushed down the central stairway of the school behind the swarm of students and flowed into the large reception area, where our physics teacher, Miss Maria, was ushering everyone out of the side exit. I slowed down as I spotted Joseph’s dad in a smart dark-grey suit, sitting on the deep-buttoned green leather sofa with his head in his hands. No one else’s parents were inside, which was odd. The dark wood-panelled walls where the president’s portrait hung made him look even gloomier.
‘Baba?’ said Joseph. His dad looked up.
‘Ah, Sami, come here.’ Joseph’s dad stood up and reached out to hug me first. Weird. I went to him, feeling awkward, and as he embraced me tightly my heart began to race.
He pressed my head against his shoulder and ruffled my hair, then released me and grabbed Joseph. I stepped back, feeling woozy from inhaling his strong aftershave.
‘Right, let’s get you both home,’ he said in Arabic, turning from Joseph.
‘But what about the football trials?’ I asked. ‘Our driver is bringing my boots. I have to wait for him!’
‘Your baba asked me to pick you up. It’s not safe to be out today.’
‘But Baba!’ Joseph interrupted. ‘We were gonna get on the team today! This is so unfair!’
‘Joseph, I already told you, it’s not safe to be at the stadium.’
Joseph tutted, shoved the carved wooden door open, and walked out.
‘Thank you! I’ll keep you updated,’ Joseph’s dad shouted at the school receptionist as he followed Joseph out. I ran after him, my stomach lurching. Baba wouldn’t send Joseph’s dad to pick me up unless it was serious. Maybe the bombing was really bad. Baba would know because of the number of casualties coming in at the hospital.
The street outside school was a tangle of gridlocked cars and beeping horns. Cars were double parked across the sidewalk, leaving hardly any room to walk between them. The newspaper seller pushed papers and magazines into our sides as we walked past his stall, desperately trying to get them sold while the street was jammed with people. We all got into Joseph’s dad’s Honda CR-V and I pulled the seat belt over me slowly, looking out at all the parents frowning in their cars. Joseph glanced at me and then pulled out his tablet.
‘Can’t believe they dropped a bomb today of all days… I’ve been waiting ages for this,’ he muttered under his breath.
‘I know…’ I said. ‘I bet Avraham’s on his way with my boots as well. He’s probably stuck in all the traffic now.’
‘What did you end up ordering?’ he asked, pressing Play