A Thunderous Whisper (10 page)

“Kaixo, Ani. Arratsalde on, señora,”
Mathias said when we were only a few feet from him.

My eyebrows scrunched together at the sound of him speaking in Basque.

Mamá lifted an eyebrow and looked him up and down. “Do I know you?” Mamá asked him in Spanish, then, staring at his walking stick, realized who he was. “You’re the boy with the customers, right?”

“Sí, señora.”
He stuck out his hand. “I’m Mathias García.”

“Hmph.” Mamá ignored his outstretched hand. “Make sure you split the profits evenly.
Neska
over there may not catch on, but I will,” she said, and with that, she stepped around him and continued down the street, carrying the nearly empty basket.

“Why are you speaking in Basque?” I asked. “It won’t impress Mamá, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Mathias shrugged. “Worth a shot. Thought it might help with the Friday deliveries.”

“She already said yes,” I mumbled as we started walking.

“Great! I knew you’d convince her.”

I didn’t look at him.

Mathias picked up his pace so he could walk backward and face me. “So, the other day, after I saw you at the school, I hung around outside one of the cafés listening to some of the old men. Turns out Franco’s trying to form a blockade of the ports. Even laying mines and stuff. Our side’s been finding them, though.”

“Hmph. Our side,” I muttered, my mind still on Papá’s letter.

“I wonder if that’s the type of information we’re delivering.
Stuff about the blockade, or maybe it’s about the ground troops.”

I shrugged. The idea that the war was this thrilling for him turned my stomach.

The excitement in Mathias’s voice was unrelenting. “If only we could read one of those letters.” He stopped for a moment. “I bet we could really help if we knew what to be on the lookout for.”

I kept walking, not bothering to look back. “Yeah, sure,” I said in a voice that he could still hear even though I was several steps ahead. “Because we’re really going to make a difference. Pfft.”

I heard the familiar tap of the
makila
as Mathias caught up with me. “What’s eating you? You’re acting like you don’t care about what we’re doing.”

I spun around and spat, “What we’re doing? We’ve delivered
one
message. Something a carrier pigeon could do. So, yeah, I guess I really don’t care.”

Mathias took a step back. “I’m not sure what’s gotten into you, but we
are
making a difference.”

“If that’s what you want to believe, fine. I’ll do the deliveries because we need the money, but I just want this war to be over. It doesn’t matter who wins or what Hitler or Franco does.”

“Wow, princess.” Mathias shook his head. “That’s a ridiculous thing to say … no matter what’s eating you.”

I shrugged off his comment. “Maybe so, but it’s true.” I paused. “And don’t call me princess.”

He gave a long whistle. “You are in one bad mood.”

I glanced up to see Mamá standing by our window looking down at us. “Mamá’s waiting. I’ve got to go.”

“Fine. See you on Friday?”

“I guess.” I plodded up the steps of my building. “Not that it really matters,” I muttered.

“You’re wrong, prin—I mean Ani,” Mathias called out as I started to go inside. “There’s something in the air. Something is going to happen.… I can feel it!”

FOURTEEN

S
chool dragged on as never before. Everything seemed so pointless. I wished I hadn’t pretended to be sick, because now I felt like I really needed to stay in bed.

All day long, I’d been convincing myself that I didn’t want to see Mathias or do the Friday deliveries, but as I walked home and saw him on the front stoop, a sliver of anticipation crept back into my chest. Quickly I pushed it away. I had to remember that I was nothing more than the daughter of the
sardinera
.

“Hurry up!” Mathias waved me over.

I kept my slow stride.

He tapped his foot, waiting for me to get closer.

“The sardines are upstairs. I’ll go get them.” I spoke with no emotion.

“No, wait.” He gave me a slightly wicked smile. “I’ve got an idea. Can I go up with you?”

I stared at him. It was completely wrong to allow a boy into our apartment without Mamá being home.

“Are you crazy? There’s no—”

He pulled out an envelope and showed it to me. “Look, the back flap isn’t completely sealed. If we steam it, it’ll probably come unglued and we can see what’s inside.”

I took the envelope and flipped it over in my hands.

Mathias nudged me. “C’mon. You know you’re as curious as I am.”

I shook my head. “I can’t let you up. Mamá would kill me.”

“Fine, then you steam it open. Just promise not to read it until you come back down.”

I hesitated. What if I messed it up?

“I just hold it over boiling water?” I asked.

“Yes, but don’t get it too close, because then the paper will get soggy. And hurry. I’ve got to be home before sundown or my mother will kill me.”

The envelope seemed to get heavier. “What if we can’t get it closed again?”

“Take a look.” He pointed to the back flap. “Part of it never sealed, so we can lick it closed. Plus, if you steam it right, the glue will get tacky and we can just press it down.”

I pulled out the key and took a few steps toward the door. I glanced around. No one was watching. “Fine, come up and do it.”

In an instant Mathias was by the door. “This is going to be good!”

Waiting for the water to boil, I wondered what we could possibly do with any information we might learn.

“This is pretty stupid,” I said just as the first of the bubbles rose from the black pot.

“Why? No one has to find out that we know. And if we understand what’s going on, we can keep our eyes open for things.”

I didn’t want to be involved any more than I already was. I’d survive this war by doing what I did best: being invisible. “I’m just doing this because it’s the quickest way to finish up the deliveries and get my share of the money.”

Mathias rolled his eyes. “So you told me yesterday.” The water began to boil, and Mathias held the envelope several inches above the pot. “I don’t know why you’re acting this way.” He paused. “It’s not like you.”

“You don’t even know me.”

Mathias ignored my statement, concentrating on keeping the sealed part of the envelope close to the rising steam.

“See,” he said, his eyes not even blinking. “It’s already loosening up. Get me a knife.”

I opened the drawer next to me and handed him the sharpest one.

He slid the blade under the open end, toward the now loosely glued side. The flap lifted easily, without even a crinkle.

“Pretty good, huh?” He was obviously pleased with himself.

“What does it say?” I asked, leaning over his shoulder as he unfolded the letter.

Mathias shook his head. “It’s written in Basque. You read it.”

I scanned the short letter. “I understand the words, but they don’t make much sense.”

“Just tell me what it says. Maybe we can figure it out.”

I read the letter twice before translating it into Spanish.

“It starts by talking about a party and how it will be a wonderful event. Says that now that the party has been
moved from Madrid to Bilbao, they’ll need to look at the guest list again.” I paused to stare at Mathias. “This is about a party? When Bilbao has barely any food and people are starving?”

He shook his head. “
Party
must be a code. Maybe Madrid isn’t their only focus in the fighting.… Keep reading.”

I looked down at the paper. “It says that their first guest has already arrived in Bilbao but that he had great difficulty getting there because of the storm coming from the west. To avoid future storms, the other British guests are advised to stay in France for a few days. But then they should take the same road that their first guest took.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm? We’re couriers announcing the arrival of some British people in Bilbao. This is what’s so important?”

“I’m not sure the letter refers to people.”

“Whatever … It isn’t that important, and neither are we.” I folded the letter back into the envelope.

“No, just hear me out. If someone found the letter, it might not seem important. But what if the guests are ships?”

“Ships?” I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah. Listen, I heard my father talking about a British merchant ship that had to be protected by the Brits’ navy because some of Franco’s destroyers wanted to stop it from going to Bilbao. It was in the newspaper.”

“The Brits? They’re not helping end this war, so who needs them?”

“Ani! Without those British ships bringing food and supplies into Bilbao, a lot of people would starve. Guernica might
do okay because there are so many farmers and fishermen around here, but other cities are in real trouble. It’s not only about this place.”

I shrugged off his comment and gave him back the envelope.

“Actually, I’ve got to hand it to Franco. It’s a pretty good plan ’cause starving people usually can’t fight.” Mathias flipped the envelope over and licked it closed. “If Franco’s guys can maintain a blockade long enough, they’ll be able to just waltz in and take over. Genius.”

“Genius would be to have this war end now,” I said, grabbing the basket of sardines Mamá had left next to the partially open window. She always kept them there so they’d stay as cool and fresh as possible. There was never a doubt as to where the
sardinera
lived.

“Done!” Mathias showed off the perfectly sealed envelope. “You ready?”

I was already out the door.

FIFTEEN

M
aking my way down to the first floor, I could hear Mathias’s
makila
tapping on each stair behind me. The sound bothered me. His breathing irritated me. Everything about him right now was a nuisance.

“Hurry up!” I called back before stopping in midstride.

I recognized the tone in my voice. The arch of my shoulders as I carried the basket down the stairs was also familiar. I could even imagine the look on my face. I was turning into Mamá.

“What’s the matter? Why’d you stop?” he asked.

I glanced at him. He wanted so much to make a difference, to be involved. Just like Papá … just like me.

We were all fools.

“Hey, is this about the deliveries? You’re not getting scared we’ll get caught or something?” Mathias whispered.

“No.” I waited a moment longer on the staircase, then I rolled back my shoulders. “Let’s just go. The sooner we start, the sooner we finish.”

All the way to Señor Beltran’s home, we walked in silence.

Once there, we went around to the back and made our delivery, and then we continued to the next stop. That’s how the next three stops went. Nothing eventful. In fact, the silence made it just like walking with Mamá. The only difference was that we were carrying the basket of sardines together.

As the church’s cupola came into view, Mathias dropped his side of the basket. A few sardines tumbled out, flopping onto the street. “I can’t take it anymore.” He stared at me as if I was supposed to say something. “What
is
the problem?”

“Nothing,” I answered, bending down to pick up the spilled sardines.

Mathias slapped the basket’s rim with his
makila
. “No! You’ve been acting weird since yesterday. Something’s up.”

I stayed still, waiting to be ignored.

“Tell me,” he demanded. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

From my crouched position, down by the basket, I answered, “I don’t have friends.”

“Do you really and truly want me to leave you alone, then?” he asked, and I could hear the anger and frustration behind his words. “Because I can definitely do that. You can go back to being by yourself.”

I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. I could feel my nose twitching as I tried to hold back the emotions climbing their way to the surface. Seconds later, a single tear ran down my cheek.

“Aw, shoot! Don’t cry.” He put his hand on my arm. “You
don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. We’ll finish this last delivery and go home.”

I quickly wiped the stray tear away and declared, “I’m not crying. I never cry.”

Mathias looked confused. “Okay.”

My knees felt wobbly, so I turned to sit on a nearby stoop. Mathias followed my lead.

After a minute of not saying anything, I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Papá is fighting on the front lines,” I said softly.

“Uh-huh, but you knew that.”

“No, I mean really fighting. He won’t be working in the kitchen, he’ll actually be in battle.” I let out a shaky breath. “I always thought that since he was older, they wouldn’t make him fight. Even though the army needed volunteers, Mamá thought they’d take one look at him and send him home.”

“How old
is
he?” Mathias asked.

“Does it matter? The point is, no one comes back from the front lines.”

Mathias looked down. “Some will.”

“I just have this feeling that Papá won’t. That I won’t see or hear from him ever again.” The thought I’d feared, the one I didn’t want to face, was finally put into words. Another tear threatened to trickle out. I rubbed my eye before it could escape. “Then I’ll really be alone,” I whispered.

“You’ll still have your mother,” he offered.

I shot him a look.

Mathias smiled. “You’ll still have me.” He gave me a nudge.

I looked into his eyes … then punched him lightly in the arm. It was all I could think of doing.

“What was that for?” he asked, rubbing the spot where I’d hit him, although I was certain it hadn’t hurt.

“For being my friend,” I said with a slight smile. “A very good friend.”

He knocked his knees against mine. “We’ll always be friends.”

“And spy partners,” I added with a smirk.

“Finally! I caught you filthy spies!” a voice from behind us exclaimed.

Before I could turn or stand, a hand grabbed the back of my shirt collar and dragged me up.

My heart beat so hard that I thought it would bruise my ribs.