| Subject: À la Vie! - Chapter 4 |
Author:
Diane
|
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted: Wednesday, October 20, 09:10:28pm
In reply to:
Diane
's message, "À la Vie!" on Tuesday, October 19, 01:16:54am
“Military school?” Michael repeated in total disbelief.
“Naturally, you would enter school as a commissioned officer,” his father explained dismissively.
“But why now? I mean, why tomorrow?” His head was still spinning.
“As we’ve already discussed, your tutors can do no more for you here. It is time for you to go away to school with other boys. Learn social skills.” Michael made no answering comment, as one did not seem to be required. His father cut to the chase. “You’re spoiled, Michel. You lack discipline. Culver Military Academy is the best school in Europe. You should feel honored to matriculate there.”
“When do I leave?” Michael asked, resigned. He knew that once his father had made up his mind, there was no changing it.
“Your flight to Tokyo leaves at 0630.”
“So early?” Michael asked in despair. He would not be able to say good-bye to Nikita—not even get a message to her.
“You’ll get used to rising at dawn, son,” the ambassador pronounced, completely misunderstanding Michael’s dilemma. “Your bags are packed. I suggest you make an early night of it.”
“Yes, sir,” Michael capitulated, wheels turning 100kms per minute. If he could get Marcel to drive him to the beach, he might be able to find Nikita’s home and tell her where he was going.
* * *
Nikita was home alone, nursing a sore back which had recently received a beating for her failure to do her chores. It was useless to explain to her mother that she couldn’t iron clothes when the electricity had been shut off and there was no heat from the iron. She sat in the closet which doubled as her bedroom, reading her favorite book, Heidi, by candlelight. She had mostly taught herself to read, with a few nudges from a kind neighbor, who had given her the book when she moved away. Nikita was determined to go to the Alps someday, and fall in love with a goatherd named Michael—er, Peter. Now where had that thought come from? She knew she had a teensy crush on Michael, just as she knew he thought of her as a sister. Oh, well. She would see him tomorrow. She turned the page.
* * *
Michael was walking along the beach, peering at the row of houses where Nikita had said that she lived. Very few had lights on, and his courage dimmed when he considered knocking door to door. As he stood contemplating his next move, he suddenly heard a low gravelly voice behind him.
“Looking for someone special, kid?”
He turned, and encountered a man who fit perfectly Nikita’s description of “Crazy Walter,” from the ponytail and bandana to the bare feet and metal detector. Good manners won out over momentary terror, and Michael extended his hand. “Michael Samuelle. You must be Walter. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Walter disregarded the outstretched hand, and peered deeply into Michael’s dark green eyes. Michael felt as though Walter were looking down into his very soul. He shivered.
“You’re Nikita’s friend.” Walter pronounced.
“Yes, sir,” Michael sighed in relief. “I have to leave the country suddenly, and I wanted to say good-bye.”
“I’ll give her the message.”
“I’d really like to see her,” Michael stated, growing a bit impatient. Marcel would not wait forever without informing his father of his late-night assignation.
“Can’t be done.”
“Why not?” asked Michael, exasperated.
“I’ll give her the message,” Walter repeated, and started back down the beach in the direction from which he had come.
Trusting Crazy Walter to carry a message about as far as he could throw him, Michael ran after him. “Wait! Please!” The old man stopped and waited for Michael, who pulled a dark bundle from under his windcheater. It was a black T-shirt, with the words À la Vie! in white script. It was the shirt Nikita had worn earlier during her swimming lesson. “Could you please make sure that she gets this?” he implored. “It’s very important.”
Walter looked steadily at Michael again before he nodded slowly. “Yair, kid. She’ll get it.”
“Thank you,” said Michael, relieved. He offered his hand again, and this time Walter took it. When Walter walked away, Michael climbed back into the limo and headed back to the embassy and out of Nikita’s life.
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
| |
Feedback: 