April 27, 2009~

Eastwood is crowded with weekend shoppers from the surrounding towns. The three of us push through the packed roadsides and sidewalks and avoid the cars sluggishly moving through the streets. I fight back the emotions that I wish I could display to my friends. I try my hardest not to think of Edward or Alice or Emmett or Rose…or Bella. If I do, I will upset myself even more.

"What convenience store are we looking for, exactly?" Kerry asks, coming up behind me. It begins to rain and we take cover under a store awning.

"I don't know," I say. "It has to be an old one because of the whole Underground Railroad factor."

Max nods. "What about that drug store on the corner over there?"

Kerry and I turn to see it. It has an old wooden sign with the brown paint peeling. On top of that, it's faded and has ancient-looking apartments above it.

"That looks like the place, if anything," I tell them. "C'mon." We dash across the street and into the store.

A bell chimes as Max opens the door. Inside, it smells musty and old. There is a check-out desk by the display window, and then aisles of small convenience store goods. The old man at the desk is asleep, snoring loudly. He has wispy gray hairs on his head, but he is mostly bald and he is wearing a white apron over his clothes. The ceiling is so low, that it makes me feel uncomfortable.

"Um, sir," I whisper as we approach the desk.

He does not respond.

"Excuse me, sir," I say a little louder.

"Hey, ce qui est vous l'action*? Can you not see he is sleeping?" a girl about eighteen says in a thick French accent. She emerges from the back room. She has a smooth face and golden brown hair loosely braided as it hangs to her side. Her eyes are a light coffee brown.

Kerry goes bug-eyed; I can practically read her mind—I don't understand French!

"Ma'am, do you work here?" Max asks, which was a stupid question.

"Oui, monsieur," she replies. "He is mon grand-père. Are you seeking some aide?"

"Yeah, but we need you to take us to the deportation room."

The girl's eyes widen. "No, je ne comprends pas," she stammers and begins to fix some of the items on the shelves.

"Nous avons besoin de votre aide. Si nous ne le recevons pas, nous mourons," Max tells her. I didn't know he's fluent in French! Apparently Kerry doesn't either. She stands there, her jaw dropping.

The girl sighs with defeat. "Bien. Je vous y prendrai," she finally agrees.

Kerry and I exchange glances.

"Come," she beckons. "Follow down the stairs." She leads us into the back room and down a long flight of stairs and through a door. There is a dark mysterious corridor lying ahead of us.

"Cette région du bâtiment est vieille. Soyez très prudents et ne devenez pas perdus," the girl tells Max, who then turns to us and says, "Stay behind us and don't screw this up."

The girl giggles and rolls her eyes, bringing us deeper into the secret chamber. She shines her flashlight on all parts of the tunnel and maneuvers us through stairwells and forks in the path. Max talks to her in French, and she blushes a lot, but Kerry and I remain silent. Finally, we come to a glass wall blocking our path among the dirt walls and ceilings.

"We go through here," she instructs and pushes open a door into a small place with lava lamps and bean bag chairs everywhere. The rugs are fuzzy and soft…and welcoming.

"Sit anywhere," the girl says, clicking her flashlight off. "Next party will leave in—" She checks her wristwatch. "—six hours."

She walks behind a door and calls out "Alsace!"

"Que?" a gruffer female voice calls out.

"Nous avons plus de déportés..." The girl continues to talk to someone else in the other room as we sit down on a bean bag chair. A few other children are in the room, scared and shaken, and I wonder why they are here. I choose not to ask.

"So…now what?" Kerry questions. "We have six hours until we lift off from Eastwood and lure Edward away. What's the plan after that?"

"Well…" Max continues to come up with plots that will help us, or at least he hopes that will be the case. I drift off into another world and just think about life before it was difficult.

Suddenly and girl emerges from the room with the other golden-brown haired girl. This girl, who I believe is named Alsace, has spiky black hair that is dyed purple and blue in some spots. Her skin is so pale it is almost blue, and she wears dark eye makeup and black lipstick. Her clothes are Gothic and she wears huge black boots. The choker around her neck has spikes on it.

Kerry takes a step back.

"I heard we have new deportees," Alsace announces matter-of-factly. Her French accent isn't as thick and I have a feeling she can speak English better than her friend. "Step forward."

A line has formed, and we are in it. Only a few children in ragged clothing step back. Again, I wonder about them: how long have they been here?

I peek down the line at the other new deportees. Carrie and Stacy from school? What the heck are they doing down here??

"We leave at nine o'clock sharp," she spits. "Any late arrivals wait until tomorrow."
A little boy with dirt smeared across his tan face whispers, "Where are we being—?"

"No questions!!" Alsace snaps. "We take you where we take you and that is it. Now line up according to gender in two separate lines. We will organize your travel groups."

I look at Max frantically. We could be split up! But he just grins and salutes to me, as if nothing is wrong. Just then, the nicer girl comes forward and whispers something to Alsace. Then, Alsace nods and points to Kerry, Max, and me. "You three, you travel together."

I stare at Max in awe, but he doesn't see me. I'm just glad he stayed with us; without him, Kerry and I would've been split for sure.

"Lorraine will take you in three hours," Alsace says. "Grandfather and I will take the other two groups in six hours." With that, she walks away. Wait, Alsace-Lorraine**? (I knew i studied for that social studies test too hard--it's appearing in my dreams!)

"Merci, madame," Max tells her.

Lorraine smiles. "It will be my pleasure, monsieur," she says to him. Kerry shoves me a little, then raises her eyebrows. "Love is in the air," she whispers.

I stifle a laugh.

Let's just hope everything works out okay. So far, so good.

Then, I woke up.

*French Translations:
Ce qui est vous l'action?: What are you doing?
Oui, monsieur: Yes, sir
mon grand-père: my grandfather
je ne comprends pas: I do not understand
Nous avons besoin de votre aide. Si nous ne le recevons pas, nous mourons: We need your help. If we do not get it, we die
Bien. Je vous y prendrai: Fine. I shall take you there
Cette région du bâtiment est vieille. Soyez très prudents et ne devenez pas perdus: This region of the building is old. Be very careful and do not become lost.
Que?: What?
Nous avons plus de déportés: We have more deportees
Merci, madame: Thank you, madam

**Alsace-Lorraine is a region in Northeastern France. It was one of the things Germany had to give back to France in World War I.