Mehmet Goes Missing Again



My first thought was to wake Papa and tell him that Mehmet was gone. But Papa was sleeping soundly for once, and I hated to worry him. Mehmet had probably just made a trip to the latrine. That was it. I was just being my usual anxious self. I lay down again. Adil snuggled up closer. If it was this cold in September, whatever would we do when winter came? I turned so I could hear any movement of the tent flap. Whenever it moved I stiffened, willing Mehmet to come in and lie down, but each time it was only the wind.

Finally I couldn’t stand it another second. I carefully climbed over Adil and felt the ground cloth along the flap. Then I began to pat frantically along the front of the tent. Mehmet had taken his blanket. I covered my mouth to keep from calling out, crawled out of the tent, and stood up outside.

With the cooler nights, I had taken to sleeping in my clothes. Good thing. I could scout around and see if I could find him before the rest of the family woke up. If Mehmet had told Papa or Mama he was leaving, he wouldn’t have sneaked out in the middle of the night.

There was enough moon for me to see my way around the tents in the family encampment. Mehmet wouldn’t be here, I was sure. He must have gone to the KLA tents.

I took a deep breath and started through the trees toward the campfires of the guerilla fighters. I hadn’t taken many steps before I felt cold metal poking into my backbone.

A flashlight shone in my face. “It’s only a little girl,” a man’s rough voice said. “Where are you going in the middle of the night? Did you miss the path to the latrine?”

“I’m looking for my brother.” My voice was shaking, even though I knew in my head that the fighters wouldn’t hurt me.

“How old is your brother?”

“Thirteen,” I said.

“Oh,” the voice behind the flashlight said. “I thought you meant little brother. Don’t worry, your brother can take care of himself. Go back to your tent.”

“Hishis name is Mehmet Lleshi. If you see him, will you tell him his family is worried about him?”

“There’s no need to worry. He’s fine, I’m sure. Go on back, now.”

There was nothing else I could do. I crept back into the tent and lay down between Isuf and Adil. I couldn’t sleep, and the night stretched on and on until, at last, it was morning.

Papa was up first. I followed him out of the tent and told him that Mehmet was gone, along with his blanket. He nodded. “Tell your mother not to wait breakfast,” he said. “As soon as the fire is made, I’ll go look for him.”

Everyone wanted to know, of course, where Papa and Mehmet were, but I told them that Papa had just said we were not to wait breakfast, that they would be home soon. Mama gave me a worried look, but she said nothing.

It was mid-morning before Papa returnedwith a glum-faced Mehmet walking a few steps behind. At least my brother still had enough respect left for Papa not to defy him. I was relieved to know that.

I didn’t speak of Mehmet’s disappearance until later when he and I were gathering firewood. “I’m glad you’re back,” I said to him.

“I’m old enough to volunteer,” he said. “Papa seems to forget that I spent two months in jail. I’m not a child.”

“I’m still glad you’re back,” I said.

“When I’m fifteen I’ll go, no matter what Papa says.”

But Mehmet wouldn’t be fifteen for fifteen months. Surely the war would be long over by then.

The next morning when I woke up, Papa was gone. “Where’s Papa?” I asked Mehmet.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. He was gone when I woke up. Mama said he left the message that I was to be in charge, so I’m expecting you to listen to me for a change.” He sounded almost like my bossy old brother again. “I’m making the fire now, so it’s up to you to organize the fuel gathering.”

I looked for Mama and found her trying to wash herself behind the tent. It was the best anyone could do for privacy. “Where has Papa gone?” I said, feeling as though my world was flying off in every direction. First Mehmet, now Papa.

“Shh. He’s gone to fetch Uncle Fadil.”

“But it’s miles”

“He got a ride partway.” She pulled her dress down over her head and then put on her coat. “We’ve got to leave here,” she said quietly. “Before we lose your brother.”

(To be continued.)

Newspaper shall publish the following credit line in each installment of the work:

Text copyright 2005 by Katherine Paterson

Illustrations copyright 2005 by Emily Arnold McCully

Reprinted by permission of Breakfast Serials, Inc.

www.breakfastserials.com

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