Lost Boys

by Darcey Rosenblatt

  He laughed. “I might say ‘because I could,’ and that’s part of it. But I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anyone care for a friend the way you care for Ebi. You weren’t going to let that friendship go, and for someone like you, someone who’s seen so much—well, that was impressive. When I saw I could honor that, it just made sense.”

  I could feel myself blushing. “I guess I’ll just say thanks again and hope you know what it really means.”

  Miles stood up and gave my shoulder a squeeze. “I’ve got it. Now get to lunch. You’ll want to teach Ebi about staying away from Pasha and Abass.”

  Ebi slipped into the fabric of my friends, and every day was a little less awful because he was there. Still, right away I realized things were different. All our lives Ebi had set the pace: where we went and what we did. Now, even though we didn’t have much choice, he looked to me to decide. Before the war Ebi would have jousted with Salar or Jaafer for their place as clown. I waited for Ebi to step up to his customary place as he settled in, but as the weeks went by, the one-armed Ebi was happy to sit in the second row.

  One Monday morning a few weeks after Ebi’s arrival, Miles was late for class. Sometimes we’d had to wait a minute or two for him, but fifteen minutes went by with no word.

  “This is very strange,” said Omid. “He was here last Friday, right? And he was supposed to be here today.”

  “Yeah, he taught that French class in the morning,” said Salar. “Then I saw him rescue one of those new little kids when two guards started pushing the kid around.”

  Fear skimmed my brain. A minute later when Miles walked through the door, my fists relaxed on the desk in front of me. But they balled up again when I saw the two bright spots of color on Miles’s white face. Something was wrong.

  Jaafer glanced at me and I looked at Omid. But nobody said anything until Miles sat down at his desk and slowly unpacked his case. Finally Salar couldn’t wait. “Miles, what happened? What’s wrong?”

  Miles looked up. He seemed to take us all in for the first time. “I’ve been sacked, boys. They kicked me out.”

  Before he’d finished his last sentence I felt like I was going to throw up. Even the boys who weren’t as close to Miles gasped, looking for their next breath.

  I was the first to say something. “No, Miles. Why? They can’t do that!”

  Miles caught my eyes and held them. When he spoke he sounded old and tired. “I’m afraid they can. I don’t know exactly why, but the major was very clear. I’ve overstayed my welcome and they control my visa. I have a day to settle things here, then I’m on a Red Crescent plane that leaves Baghdad on Friday.”

  “Friday,” wailed Salar. “Why Friday? If you had more time maybe you could get your journalist buddies to change his mind.”

  “Believe me, I’ve been arguing this for hours.” Miles stared out the high window as if he could see something we couldn’t. “I’m afraid there isn’t anything else to do. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they get someone else in here soon. Someone a bit less volatile than this Irish lunatic, eh, lads?”

  We all started to talk at once. My head pounded, and I felt sweat on the back of my neck. Through the noise Miles clapped his hands, making me jump. “All right, boys. That’s enough. For now we are going to forget this and have a normal class. I’ll come in again tomorrow or the next day for good-byes.”

  I don’t remember the rest of class. I don’t remember lunch or how I got back to lockdown. It was almost as if Uncle had died again. I lay on my mat, oblivious to the talk around me. I told myself it wasn’t the same as losing Uncle. Miles was alive and well. Miles was going away, but sometime, somewhere, I might see him again. But what it felt like was that Father was dead and Uncle was dead and Miles was leaving. It felt like loving people made no sense.

  The next morning I woke up wanting to talk to Miles. I hadn’t really talked to him the day before. I’d been too dazed, but today I wondered if we could figure out a way for him to stay. I’d push him again to call his friends at the Red Crescent to see if they could make a case for him. Maybe the major was in a better mood today and could be reasoned with.

  From the yard I watched for the opportunity to slip away. I edged toward the classroom building and after a while saw my chance to slide through the door. Just outside the classroom, I heard Miles and Salar talking. I crept closer and listened.

  “I told you boys the truth, Salar.” Miles’s voice was quiet but clear. “I’m not sure why they’ve ousted me. But I asked you to come here because I have a nagging fear it might be because Abass has developed an obsessive hatred for a few of you boys, and he’s done with me interfering. You remember I stepped in to rescue Reza a while back. Then two weeks ago I stepped in while he was beating on a boy barely twelve. This little kid may have been the last straw.”

  “It’s not fair.”

  “No, it’s not fair. Not fair at all. But it is what it is. I want to ask you to keep watch. I don’t want you to step in. You’re not one of Abass’s favorites, yourself. Just try to keep the boys away from him. Especially Reza. I might not have done him any favors when I interfered that time.”

  “I will.”

  Miles let out a low laugh. “Sorry I’m asking you to be the grown-up, Salar. It’s just until we can get someone else in here who can best you and Omid, eh?”

  I could barely hear Salar’s answer. “Yeah, right … right … sure.”

  “Come on, boy. Give this old Irish idiot a hug. Then I’ll ask you to go fetch Reza. I’d like to have a word with him before the big good-bye session.”

  I turned, tiptoed down the hall, and went back into the sunlight. Salar was distracted. It took him a few minutes to find me even though I was in plain sight, watching him.

  “Miles is in the classroom. Wants to see you.”

  “No new news?” I asked. “I mean, he’s still planning to leave?”

  “Looks that way.”

  “I can’t believe it,” I said, trying to keep from choking up.

  “You can say that twice,” Salar said as he walked off in the other direction.

  I said it again under my breath as I headed to the classroom.

  “Reza, come on in. Thanks for coming by.”

  “Miles, do you—”

  Miles held his hand up. “Stop, before you go on. I do have to leave. They’ve kicked me out. It’s dangerous for you boys and for me if I stay. If I go now I should be able to get a decent replacement. If I fight any longer to stay, they may decide it’s not worth it to teach you boys at all.” He sat down on the desk and waved me to a chair next to him.

  “A few things I want to say, lad. First and most important is to make you understand how critical it is for you to keep your head down and stay out of trouble. Abass isn’t a schoolyard bully. He’s a dangerous man, and there is no question the authorities here will take his side over yours. No question.”

  Miles reached out and tilted my head up to look at him. “It would mean a lot to me if you promised to stay out of his way.”

  “I will, Miles.” My mouth was dry, and the walls of the room felt like they’d moved six feet closer.

  “Good. Next I want you to know that I’m leaving you the tar. They won’t let you keep it in lockdown, of course, but I’ll leave it with Majid. He can make sure that when they let you boys out of here, you can take this baby with you.” He patted the leather case that lay on the desk behind him. “Maybe he can entrust it to the learned scholar who comes to take my place and you won’t have to wait too long to play it again.”

  “Thank you, Mil—” but the rest of the word stuck in my throat.

  Miles pulled a chair up next to me. The sound of the scraping reminded me of the day I dove through the window to reach the tar. It felt like yesterday and it felt like my childhood.

  “The last thing is—I want to give you this.” Miles handed me a small folded piece of paper. I held it without opening it. “That’s my mum’s address. You can always reach me through her.
Someday you will get out of here. Someday things will calm down in this part of the world. And on that someday, I want you to get on a plane and come visit your old friend Miles.”

  “I’ve never been on a plane,” I whispered.

  “Well, all the more reason to come.” Miles took a deep breath. “Reza, it’s not my place to tell you what to believe or what kind of man you’re going to be. Not my place.” He lifted my face again to meet his eyes. He held it there between his big hands. “But, Reza, you are special, a unique soul. You need to see enough of the world so you can choose who you’ll grow up to be. I’d be honored, I’d be truly privileged, if you’d let me be a guide for some of that journey.”

  I didn’t trust myself to speak so I nodded. Miles stood, extended his hand and pulled me up. I reached my arms and hugged him as tightly as I could, and he rested his chin lightly on my head. “Just come find me, lad,” he said hoarsely. “Just come find me.”

  I nodded again and found my voice at last. “I will, Miles. I promise, I will.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The next morning I saw what I was thinking reflected on other faces. Miles was gone. This day, the next, and every day we could imagine was going to be the same. Empty and colorless. So much dust swirled around the yard, I could barely see the other side. Ebi, Jaafer, and I sat with our backs against the wall. We kept our heads down and our mouths closed to lock out the dirt.

  When the bell rang for lunch, we rushed in to get out of the grime. Everyone had the same thought. In an instant a crowd of boys gathered at the door to the cafeteria. I waited for the line in front of me to move, trying not to smell the onions I’d eaten every day for almost a year.

  Without warning, the boy behind me stumbled, pushing me into the crowd. I fell, landing full force against someone’s feet. My heart sank when I heard Pasha’s voice.

  “Just what I’d expect. Reza the Ingrate trying to start trouble.”

  I stood up quickly. “Pasha, it was an accident. I got pushed. I didn’t mean—”

  “Don’t make excuses, moron.” Pasha shoved my shoulder hard enough that I fell back. The stench of sweat and boys surrounded me.

  I took an angry step toward Pasha, my blood boiling, my fists clenched. Then, like another hit, I remembered my promise to Miles to stay out of trouble. I stepped back, raised my hands in surrender, and said, “Okay, Pasha, I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful next time.”

  Pasha stood and glared. I turned to Ebi. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll go to the back of the line.”

  I felt my collar tighten as someone grabbed it from behind. I twisted to see Abass standing over me.

  “I suspected I’d find you in the middle of a brawl.”

  “It’s not a brawl, sir,” I said, struggling to be polite. “Someone tripped and knocked me into the crowd. No problems here.”

  “No problems—that’s right, because I’m going to remove you from any temptation.” Abass gripped my arm and dragged me away. “See how you like being by yourself for a while.”

  Several boys spoke, trying to defend me, but Abass silenced them with a swing of his club in their direction. The last thing I saw as the guard spun me around was Pasha’s grinning face.

  Abass led me down a dark hall and into a small room barely big enough to turn around in. It smelled like it had been closed for months, and the last time it was used was as a latrine. I started to curse but held my tongue, seeing Miles’s face, hearing my promise.

  Abass stood in the open doorway. He reached for his belt and pulled his knife from its sheath. The blade caught the light from the hall. Before I knew what was happening, Abass slapped me hard and I went down, my hands and knees connecting with the concrete floor at the same time. Almost immediately, his steel-toed boot hit my ribs. His second kick landed in the same place he’d kicked me weeks before. It was still tender and I rolled away from him, trying to protect myself, but the room was so small I had nowhere to go. He pushed me into the corner. With one huge hand he held me in place; with the other he punched my stomach. I groaned. He laughed and punched me again.

  “I got some lip for those bruises I gave you before, but none of these are going to show.” He pushed me harder against the wall. “And you aren’t going to talk about our time together—understand? If you do I’ll finish you and come after your little friend.” He brought his knee up hard between my legs. I couldn’t breathe, and what little light there was in the room went all sparkly. I’m not sure what happened next. I was only half-conscious on the floor while he kicked me again and again, rhythmically chanting something in Arabic. I couldn’t really hear him through the pounding in my ears. At some point he stopped and pulled me up, bringing his huge forearm across my chest, his knife at my throat.

  “Feel this, idiot?” The tip of the blade pressed cold against my skin.

  “Yes,” I whispered. Of course I did. I felt everything and everything hurt.

  “I am going to cut you now, but just a little.” My legs shook. I felt a prick and a sharp jab just under my Adam’s apple. Abass released me. “I don’t want you to die just yet.”

  He turned and left, snickering as he locked the door and left me in darkness. I moved slowly, feeling my ribs. I didn’t think anything was broken, but I was going to hurt for days. My hand went to my neck. There was blood, but I knew it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Abass was good with the knife. He could toy with me for months or kill me in an instant.

  I sat, my hand on my neck, trying to breathe normally, waiting for my eyes to adjust. As the minutes ticked by I still couldn’t see my outstretched hand. When the bleeding on my neck stopped I felt my way around the small room, avoiding the floor for fear of finding what I smelled. My hands found a rough canvas cot; I brushed it off with my sleeve and sank down.

  Every time the fear of Abass gripped my stomach, I tried to think of something else. I thought about what it would be like to take Miles up on his offer. I realized I didn’t know if he was going to his mother’s in Belfast or someplace else. Could I live with him? What kind of music would there be?

  I heard the distant sounds of the boys going to afternoon lockdown. I tried to remember every song I knew and sang softly to myself. Hours later I heard the boys heading to dinner. I longed for another helping of the gruel I’d had for breakfast what seemed a lifetime ago.

  The sounds of the camp drifted away into occasional footsteps in the distance. I wondered if Abass would leave me here until I starved.

  I finally drifted into sleep. A few minutes or a few hours later, I heard the lock turn. I stood up, wincing but awake and alert. I was not going to face Abass lying down. The light of a flashlight blinded me. Before I could see, I heard a lyrical voice I didn’t recognize. “Reza, are you here? Are you all right?”

  I squinted. It was Majid. I’d never thought about it before, but just then I realized that we’d hardly ever spoken, just a word here or there.

  “I’m okay,” I croaked.

  “What did he do to you?” Majid shone the flashlight up and down my body. “Can you walk?”

  I straightened and tried to move normally. “It’s not bad, but how did you know? And what are you doing here? Abass will kill you if he finds you.”

  “He won’t find me here. We both went off duty hours ago.” Majid led me by flashlight as he spoke. “Five of us went for dinner at Barsam’s house, and Abass drank a lot of whiskey.”

  “Abass? Drank whiskey? I thought he was religious.”

  “He puts on that show, but away from the camp, away from his family, it is different.” Majid opened a door that led to the deserted kitchen. He steered me to the sink, wet a cloth, and placed it on my neck, swearing under his breath. “I am not cut out for this job. Most of the others turn away when Abass and his kind torture you boys. I think some even like it. But I can’t stand it.” He shook his head.

  “Majid, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

  “He spent the first two drinks laughing about how he’d beaten you
and locked you up and the last three talking about his plan to torture and kill you.”

  I took a deep breath, remembering Miles’s words for the hundredth time. “Majid, maybe it’s not safe for you to help me.”

  “Most everyone on duty now is asleep. You’ll be back in your room in a few minutes. Abass is passed out at Barsam’s house and doesn’t go on duty until tomorrow afternoon. He’ll never know who let you out.”

  Majid crossed to a huge refrigerator and brought out a pot, placed it on the range, and lit the fire. After stirring a few times he turned to face me.

  “My young friend, you need to be very careful. I’ve seen Abass when he gets like this. He has killed before. He could kill you. You must make it your job to give him no reason to touch you.”

  “I try, but he looks for reasons to come down on me.”

  Majid nodded. “I never understand why he takes such a disliking to some boys. Your friendship with Mr. Miles didn’t help matters. Abass did not like Mr. Miles.” His brow furrowed, he filled a bowl with hot soup from the pot and placed it in front of me.

  The soup smelled delicious. I ate a spoonful and nearly yelled with surprise. “Majid, there’s meat in this soup—and vegetables, too!”

  Majid smiled and nodded. “It’s from the major’s lunch yesterday, I assume.” He motioned to the refrigerator. “I took it from his shelf.” He ran his hand across his forehead, the momentary smile gone. “With Mr. Miles gone and Abass in this state, you are very vulnerable. You must be careful.”

  “I’ll try to blend in, stay out of his sight.” The hot soup made me feel for a fleeting second that this might actually be possible.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Majid let me into our room. All the boys were sleeping. I slipped off my shoes and shuffled to my mat at the far end of the room. I lay down and pulled up the thin blanket.

  “What happened? Are you all right?” Ebi asked so quietly I wasn’t sure I’d heard.