Drita, My Homegirl

by Jenny Lombard

  “It looks like the Maxie and Drita bus just arrived,” I say because now my grandma and daddy, and Drita’s mom, dad, grandma and baby brother all come walking into the room at once. There are lots of kisses and hellos going all around.

  “I like your hair!” my grandma says to Drita.

  “Nënë did it!” Drita says, shaking her head so her braids bob up and down.

  “Mrs. Kelmendi, maybe one day you can do my hair too!” I say.

  “Maxie, of course!” Mrs. Kelmendi says. “Now please come here.”

  “What for?” I ask.

  “I want to fix shirt.” I go over to her so she can straighten out my collar. “There. You look so nice. Are you ready?” she asks.

  “Oh, she’s ready,” my grandmother says.

  “Now don’t be nervous!” my daddy says.

  Over his shoulder, I see someone walk into the classroom.

  “Don’t turn around,” I tell him. Because I want it to be a surprise. Miss Surprise comes up and taps him on the shoulder.

  “What are you doing here?” Daddy says when he sees who it is.

  “Maxie invited me,” Lisa says. “She called me on my cell phone first thing this morning. Hi, girlfriend,” she says and gives me a peck on the cheek.

  “Hi,” I say back.

  My dad looks so shocked, I swear his chin almost hits the floor.

  At the front of the room, Miss Salvato raises her voice so that everyone can hear. “Kids, friends and family members. If you’ll take a seat, we’ll get started.”

  Everyone sits down in the folding chairs we set up at the front of the room. There are so many people, a few of the kids have to sit on the windowsill, but no one minds. Now my teacher nods her head at me.

  “Okay, Maxie,” she says, “you’re on.”

  I feel so nervous, for a second I think I’m going to faint, but I don’t.

  “Yo Maxine!” someone yells, sassing me.

  “Don’t you razz me, Jordan,” I yell back, “I know where you live.” And the whole room laughs, ’cause I guess this has got to be my funniest joke ever.

  I take a deep breath just like my grandmother told me. The room quiets down. Then I start.

  “On October fifteenth, current events came to our school. And I don’t mean current events in the way we usually get them here, which is kind of boring, but I mean news, real news.

  “I don’t know if you know about Kosova. I didn’t. I mean, I might have heard the words on the television, and seen the pictures, but they didn’t mean a thing to me until I met a girl named Drita. Then I started to find out more.

  “Kosova is in the Balkans. It’s very pretty and there are a lot of trees and mountains. But there’s a war there between the Serbians and the Kosovars and it’s been going on a long time. No one knows who started it, and no one knows how it will end, but there are a lot of Kosovars killed or missing, just because of who they are. A lot of people are afraid and are running away, even mothers with little babies. Someone who runs away from a war is called a refugee and that’s who Drita’s people are. Refugees. Runaways.

  “The way Drita tells it, Kosova was a good place to live once. There were fun places to go like the park or the market, and they did stuff like watch soccer games. Her family, the Kelmendis, felt safe. But then something started to change.

  “Some days, kids would throw rocks at her on the way to school. Other days she would hear gunshots. Then some people got taken away in the middle of the night. Drita’s mom looked everywhere for her favorite cousin, but no one knew where she went to. Soon her family got too afraid to go outside. Her daddy had already left to come here, and he was supposed to send for them. But they didn’t hear from him for a long time, because in the war all the phones stopped working.

  “Then one night her grandmother shook her. She didn’t even have time to pack, but that was all right because Drita’s family slept in their clothes, waiting. Her mother carried her down the street, where there was a bus. It was full of people and lots of kids, all scared, all wanting to leave.

  “They drove a long time, she says, and she was scared the whole way but never cried, not even when some soldiers on the border of a country called Macedonia stopped the bus. Everyone was afraid the soldiers would keep them, but they didn’t, they let them go.

  “Ten days later, Drita was here, in New York. It was the first time she had seen her daddy in over a year, but her family was lucky. Not only did they get out, but her father had a job and an apartment all ready for them.

  “But when I met her, I didn’t know about Drita’s story. All I knew is she was a new girl, and different from me. That made it easy for me to laugh at her in the beginning. But then when I got to know Drita, I started finding out that even though on the outside we were different, on the inside we were just the same. I’m real lucky I got to know her because she’s a really great person and a good friend. But you don’t have to take my word for it. You can find out about her yourself.”

  Just like we planned it, Drita jumps out of her seat and comes running over.

  “Now,” I say to everyone, “who has a question for Drita, my homegirl?”

  I don’t even believe it! It seems like every person in the room raises their hand at once.

  “Maxie, who should I call on first?” Homey says, looking out over the sea of hands.

  “I don’t know, Drita, but something tells me you’re about to have a lot of new friends.”