The Sky is Falling. Sidney Sheldon

       Chapter Three

      School was an unbearable ordeal for Kemal. He was smaller than the other kids in his classes, and to his deep shame, that included the girls. He was nicknamed ‘the runt’ and ‘the shrimp’ and ‘the minnow’. As far as his studies were concerned, Kemal’s only interest was in math and computers, where he invariably got the highest grades of anyone. An offshoot of the class was the chess club, and Kemal dominated it. In the past, he had enjoyed soccer, but when he had gone to try out for the school varsity team, the coach had looked at Kemal’s empty sleeve and said, ‘Sorry, we can’t use you.’ It was not said unkindly, but it was a devastating blow.

      Kemal’s nemesis was Ricky Underwood. At lunchtime some of the students ate in the enclosed patio instead of the cafeteria. Ricky Underwood would wait to see where Kemal was having lunch and then join him.

      ‘Hey, orphan boy. When is your wicked stepmother going to send you back where you came from?’

      Kemal ignored him.

      ‘I’m talking to you, freak. You don’t think she’s going to keep you, do you? Everyone knows why she brought you over here, camel face. Because she was a famous war correspondent, and it made her look good to save a cripple.’

      ‘Fukat!’ Kemal shouted. He got up and leaped at Ricky.

      Ricky’s fist went into Kemal’s stomach, and then crashed into Kemal’s face. Kemal fell on the ground, writhing in pain.

      Ricky Underwood said, ‘Anytime you want more, just tell me. And you better do it fast, because from what I hear, you’re history.’

      Kemal lived in an agony of doubt. He did not believe the things that Ricky Underwood said and yet … What if they were true? What if Dana does send me back? Ricky is right, Kemal thought. I am a freak. Why would someone as wonderful as Dana want me?

      Kemal had believed his life was over when his parents and sister were killed in Sarajevo. He had been sent to the Orphans Institution outside of Paris, and it was a nightmare.

      At two o’clock every Friday afternoon, the boys and girls in the orphanage would line up as prospective foster parents arrived to evaluate them and select one to take home. As each Friday approached, the excitement and tension among the children rose to an almost unbearable pitch. They would wash and dress neatly, and as the adults walked along the line, each child would inwardly pray to be chosen.

      Invariably, when the prospective parents saw Kemal, they would whisper, ‘Look, he’s got only one arm,’ and they would move on.

      Every Friday was the same, but Kemal would still wait hopefully as the adults examined the line of candidates. But they always picked other children. Standing there, ignored, Kemal would be filled with humiliation. It will always be someone else, he thought despairingly. No one wants me.

      Kemal wished desperately to be part of a family. He tried everything he could think of to make it happen. One Friday he would smile brightly at the adults to let them know what a nice, friendly boy he was. The next Friday he would pretend to be occupied with something, showing them that he didn’t really care whether he was chosen or not, and that they would be lucky to have him. At other times, he would look at them appealingly, silently begging them to take him home with them. But week after week, it was always someone else who was chosen and taken away to wonderful homes and happy families.

      Miraculously, Dana had changed all that. She was the one who had found him living homeless on the streets of Sarajevo. After Kemal was airlifted by the Red Cross to the orphanage, Kemal wrote Dana a letter. To his astonishment, she had telephoned the orphanage and said that she wanted Kemal to come live with her in America. That was the happiest moment of Kemal’s life. It was an impossible dream come true, and it turned out to be a joy even greater than he had ever imagined.

      Kemal’s life had changed completely. He was grateful now that no one had chosen him before. He was no longer alone in the world. Someone cared about him. He loved Dana with all his heart and soul, but within him was always the terrible fear that Ricky Underwood had instilled, that someday Dana would change her mind and send him back to the orphanage, to the life of hell he had escaped. He had a recurring dream: He was back in the orphans’ asylum, and it was Friday. A line of adults was inspecting the children, and Dana was there. She looked at Kemal and said, That ugly little boy has only one arm, and she moved on and picked the boy next to him. Kemal would wake up in tears.

      Kemal knew that Dana hated for him to get into fights at school, and he did everything he could to avoid them, but he could not bear to have Ricky Underwood or his friends insult Dana. As soon as they realized that, the insults about Dana increased, and so did the fights.

      Ricky would greet Kemal with ‘Hey, have you packed your suitcase, shrimp? On the news this morning it said your bitch stepmother is going to send you back to Yugoslavia.’

      ‘Zbosti!’ Kemal would yell.

      And the fight would begin. Kemal would come home with black eyes and bruises, but when Dana asked him what had happened, he could not tell her the truth, for he was terrified that if he put it into words, what Ricky Underwood had said might happen.

      Now, as Kemal waited in the principal’s office for Dana to arrive, he thought, When she hears what I’ve done this time, she is going to send me away. He sat there miserable, his heart racing.

      When Dana entered the office of Thomas Henry, the principal was pacing the floor, looking grim. Kemal sat in a chair across the room.

      ‘Good morning, Miss Evans. Please sit down.’

      Dana glanced at Kemal and took a seat.

      Thomas Henry picked up a large butcher knife from his desk. ‘One of Kemal’s teachers took this from him.’

      Dana swiveled to look at Kemal, furious. ‘Why?’ she asked angrily. ‘Why did you bring this to school?’

      Kemal looked at Dana and said sullenly, ‘I didn’t have a gun.’

      ‘Kemal!’

      Dana turned to the principal. ‘May I speak to you alone, Mr Henry?’

      ‘Yes.’ He looked over at Kemal, his jaw tight. ‘Wait in the hallway.’

      Kemal got to his feet, took one last look at the knife, and left.

      Dana began, ‘Mr Henry, Kemal is twelve years old. He’s lived most of those years going to sleep with the sound of exploding bombs in his ears, the same bombs that killed his mother and father and sister. One of those bombs took off his arm. When I found Kemal in Sarajevo, he was living in a cardboard box in a vacant lot. There were a hundred other homeless boys and girls there, living like animals.’ She was remembering, trying to keep her voice steady.

      ‘The bombs have stopped, but the boys and girls are still homeless and helpless. The only way they can defend themselves against their enemies is with a knife or a rock or a gun, if they’re lucky enough to get hold of one.’ Dana closed her eyes for an instant and took a deep breath. ‘These children are scarred. Kemal is scarred, but