A Little Piece of Ground Read Free Page A

making for the wrecked bus park which the soldiers had taken over and where they had their base. He could imagine the great armored machines lying down there, like a row of green scaly monsters, crouched, waiting to crawl back up the hill and pin the people of Ramallah down in their houses again when the two precious hours of freedom were up.
    Karim’s stomach lurched with fright at the thought of what Jamal and his friends would be doing. They’d be picking up stones and hurling them at the tanks, shouting insults at the soldiers inside. The soldiers would have their fingers on the triggers of their rifles and they’d wait for a bit, and then they’d get angry, or they’d panic, and they’d fire. Someone, sure as anything, would get hurt, or even killed.
    If it’s Jamal, thought Karim, he’ll be a martyr, and I’ll be so proud of him I’ll never, ever think anything bad about him again.
    He had set off by now and was running fast towards the school. With luck, it wouldn’t take long to hand in his schoolwork and grab the next assignment.
    Joni was at the school gates already. He was moving bizarrely, spinning and kicking on his sturdy legs, and punching out with his plump arms. The boys who were streaming past him on their way in through the battered old gates looked at him oddly, but Karim, used to Joni’s habit of practicing karate kicks, was unimpressed.
    He had run fast for the last ten minutes and, unused to exercise after the long days indoors, was so winded that for a moment or two he couldn’t speak. He bent over, gasping for breath.
    When at last he straightened up, he found Joni’s foot high up in the air, four inches from his face. Karim pushed it down.
    â€œListen,” he said, “I got to Level Five in Lineman.”
    â€œYou didn’t.”
    â€œI did.”
    He was impressed, Karim could tell, but he was trying not to show it.
    Joni followed Karim up the stairs towards the upper row of classrooms. Other boys were crowding round the open doors.
    â€œWhere’s Mr. Mohammed?” Karim asked one of them.
    â€œNot here,” he said. “He hasn’t turned up. He’s not coming.”
    â€œGreat!” Karim disliked his stern teacher. He grabbed Joni’s arm. “There’s no point in hanging around here any longer. We can go and play soccer. I’ve got to meet my mother at the supermarket, but she won’t be ready till at least seven thirty. We’ve got nearly an hour.”
    A crowd of boys was already assembled on the soccer field behind the school and a game had just begun. There was no time to organize teams. Everyone joined in, playing around, dodging and passing and shooting at the goal.
    For the first few minutes Karim felt clumsy and breathless, running as if his legs were as stiff and weak as matchsticks, missing the goals he tried to score and being easily outmaneuvered by anyone who tried to tackle him. Then, suddenly, he felt his skill coming back. Power vibrated through him. A rare magic tingled through his feet.
    The light was going now, the sun sinking fast towards the horizon. The white stone walls of Ramallah were turning a pale yellow. Soon they would be golden, then pink. In more normal times, the smell of frying onions would be wafting from open windows and music would drift across the town from a dozen radios. Tonight, though, the return of darkness would bring only the soldiers and the tanks, the occasional burst of gunfire and the wail of sirens.
    Karim had just scored a peach of a goal and was enjoying his triumph with squawks of delight when the caretaker came running round the side of the building. His red and white checked keffiyeh headdress was flapping round his shoulders and he was waving his arms urgently.
    â€œOut! You’ve all got to get out now!” he shouted. “I’m shutting up the compound! I’ve got to get home before the tanks come back!”
    Karim