"Yes. They even lent me some books to bring home."
"You gotta good teacher?"
"She's very nice. Miss Moulton."
"You grow up to be teacher, Rosa. We needa good teachers for Italian childrens."
It seemed obvious that Rosa hadn't heard about the boys going home. But she would by tonight. Then he'd be in a pickle. If she demanded to go, he was likely to be sent home with her. But if she stayed, they might force him to go to school, and then the jig would be up, for sure.
Mr. Gerbati finished slurping in the last of his coffee and scraped his chair back.
"Oh, so soon! Scusami, Salvatore. Mr. Gerbati always first back from colazione." She made an attempt to whistle with her mouth. "Got to pull the—the, you know—"
Jake jumped up. He wasn't going to let the old man leave him behind.
Word from Home
When Rosa returned to school after the midday meal, she was immediately greeted by one of the other Lawrence children. "Did you hear about the Colonni boys?" and when Rosa said she hadn't, the story began to pour out. She could tell that Tony had mixed up several versions in his excitement, but the main point was clear. The Colonni brothers' father said that he had not given permission for his sons to come to Vermont, that they had gotten on board the train instead of some other children. All the Barre people were swearing that they had been told that every child had had the proper permission card signed. Perhaps, in the confusion, some child might have boarded by mistake, but they could hardly believe that two children could have escaped their notice.
Rosa listened in horror. She knew perfectly well that Sal had no permission card and that he had boarded and passed almost unnoticed. But if a mistake had been made with these two boys, the Barre committee would be on the alert for other mistakes. She needed to warn him, but there was no way to do so before that night.
Tony, who was telling her breathlessly about the case, wound up by saying, "And they don't want to go home at all. They got plenty to eat and warm clothes. They like it here. It's a vacation, just like the union promised."
"They don't want to go home?"
"No. They're mad as wet cats."
Oh, if it had only been Rosa, not these silly boys, who was leaving tomorrow. Then she'd be home and she wouldn't have to worry about Mamma and Anna and Ricci anymore, much less Sal and all his problems and lies. It was hardly fair. Boys who didn't want to leave having to go, while she, who wanted so much to go home, must stay. Not only stay, but dream up more lies to help that wretched boy, whose real name and story she didn't even know, except that there was something dark, some shadow he was running away from. Of course, she was curious—anyone would be—but she was also terrified that he might tell her everything, and then she'd have the burden of even more lies as well as some wicked secret to keep hidden.
When she came in from school, she found Sal in the kitchen stuffing his mouth with bread and cheese. She made him leave his snack on the table and come into the hall with her.
"Can't it wait?" he asked grumpily. "I'm eating."
"They're sending two of the boys home to Lawrence tomorrow."
"Oh, yeah," he said, already turning to go back into the kitchen. "I heard already."
"You don't understand." She grabbed his arm. "They'll be checking on everyone now. They think there may have been a mixup boarding the train...."
"Yeah?" He was trying to act nonchalant, but she could tell he was worried.
"Well, what are we going to do?"
"Nothing. I told you I'd be leaving soon."
"But if you run away now, I'm the one who'll have to explain why."
He gave her a wry grin. "You're getting good at explaining. You'll think of something."
He was infuriating. "I have a good mind to march right into that kitchen this minute and tell Mrs. Gerbati everything!"
Alarm crossed his face, but he controlled it. "You wouldn't do that."
"And just why wouldn't I?"
"Because you're in too deep, that's why."
She knew he was right. The Gerbatis trusted her. They wouldn't understand if she suddenly announced that all she had said about Sal had been lies.