Trouble in Paradise (2 page)

“Don’t let them get to you,” one of the girls—her name was Lesley—said. Besides Miss Hilroy, we were the only two people left in the room.

“What?”

“The lot at the back. Don’t take it personally.”

She had a very gentle accent. She smiled, and I felt myself starting to blush. I put my books in my bag, slung it over my shoulder and we walked to the door and out of the class. I took a quick look around. Nobody was waiting. Kids were scattered across the playing field, heading home. It was sunny and warm outside—not hot, but nothing like Canada in December.

“Those blokes feel like they’re better than us Onions,” Lesley said.

Now I was just confused. “Onions?”

She laughed. “That’s what we call ourselves … those who were born and raised on the island. We’re Onions … you know, like Bermuda Onions.”

“Okay, but I’m not an Onion.”

“Do you think you’re better than
us
because you’re from
Canada?”
she asked, suddenly sounding annoyed.

“No, of course not, it’s just … just … we don’t think we’re better than anybody.”

“So maybe they’re right in treating you badly if you’re not better than anybody,” she said.

“But we’re not worse … we’re all the
same
where I come from.”

“But not where
they
come from,” she said. “Every Englishman thinks he’s better than every colonial, whether it’s somebody from Canada or Bermuda. But that lot thinks they’re better than almost every Englishman, too.”

“They don’t seem that special to me,” I said.

“That’s because you don’t know who they are.”

“I don’t care who they are,” I said. I paused. “Who are they?”

“I’m not really sure, it’s all pretty hush-hush, but I know they have to be from pretty important families or they wouldn’t be here.”

“Again, I don’t get it.”

“Do you think that ordinary people can send their children away to Bermuda to get away from the Blitz?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” I admitted. “But I don’t care if the king of England sent over his kids, I—”

“Some of them
are
royalty,” she said, cutting me off.

“They are?”

She nodded. “That’s what I heard. You know, third and fourth cousin sort of things.”

“I still don’t care. We’re all in this war together and we’re all on the same side. Only Hitler thinks he’s better than other people, and that’s what we’re fighting against.”

“You don’t seem to be afraid of a fight,” she said.

“I’m not afraid of them. They’re just a bunch of kids.”

“And what are you, an old man of twelve?” she asked.

“No, it’s just … just … I don’t know.”

If I’d told her the truth, she wouldn’t have believed me. She would have thought I was either the biggest liar in the world or an escapee from the loony bin. Better to change the subject. The weather was usually safe. Or maybe the view? We were standing at the back of the playing field on a hill overlooking the ocean. Below us it stretched out in both directions as far as the eye could see.

“This sure is beautiful.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “This?”

“Well … yes. Don’t you think?”

“I guess I really don’t think about it much. This is just home.”

“But … look at the ocean,” I said.

“Hard
not
to look at the ocean in Bermuda.”

“I mean the colours.” The water was bright blue in some places and emerald green in others.

“Honestly, I hardly notice.”

“And the colours of the houses,” I said. “It’s as if a bunch of kids with crayons decided what they should look like.” The houses were brilliantly painted in bright colours—reds, yellows, greens and blues in different combinations. Each was topped by a white ridged roof.

“Don’t houses look like that where you’re from?” Lesley asked.

“Not even close. They’re mostly bricks and wood, and not painted like this.”

We started down the path toward the beach. Most of the kids had already gone ahead of us.

“Which way do you go?” she asked.

I motioned to the left.

“Shame. I’m going the other way or I would have let you carry my books.”

I was too stunned even to attempt a reply.

“There’s my brother,” I said, gesturing to where he was waiting up ahead. He was standing with a girl.

“He’s cute. Too bad it looks like he’s already taken.”

“I don’t know about the taken part, but cute has never been a word I’ve used to describe him.”

“No, he’s definitely a looker,” she said. “Must run in the family.”

I started, and she gave me a little smile. I quickly looked away.

Jack saw me coming down the path and gave a dirty look, which I knew meant he didn’t want me to come any closer.

“I’m going to wait here for a minute,” I said.

Lesley stopped beside me, but gave me a questioning look.

“You know … so he can have some privacy.”

“That’s considerate.”

“Yeah, considerate … sure.”

And smart. I didn’t mind getting a bunch of grade sevens mad at me, but Jack was a different kind of animal. He had both a temper and the strength to make that temper count for something.

“Can I ask you a question?” Lesley asked.

“Of course.”

“I know why those kids have come from England, but why are you and your brother here?”

“Because our parents are stationed here … like I said.”

“But there are lots of soldiers and sailors stationed in Bermuda as part of the war effort, and as far as I know, none of them brought along
their
children.”

“It’s because we have both parents stationed here,” I said. “And because they needed them both here, the deal was that we got to come along.”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense.”

That was our cover story, so it was
supposed
to make sense. It was certainly more believable than the truth: we
had been relocated so that Nazi agents wouldn’t be able to find us and would go on believing we’d been killed in a car crash. That was the story that had been cooked up for us. It had even been an article in
The Whitby Reporter
! Funny that it was so much easier to believe than what had really happened—that we’d foiled a Nazi plot to set off a massive explosion at a munitions plant. Sometimes the truth really is a lot stranger than fiction.

As we stood there and waited, Jack said something and the girl giggled and laughed. She put a hand on his shoulder and then, to my utter shock, gave him a little kiss on the cheek and a hug!

“Looks like you were wrong. He
is
taken,” Lesley said.

The girl released Jack and headed off down the beach.

“Can we go now?” Lesley asked.

“Sure … of course.”

We started back down the path toward Jack.

“Are you going to introduce me to your brother?” Lesley asked.

“If you want, I can—” I stopped mid-sentence. Jack wasn’t alone. Two other students, about his size and probably in his grade, suddenly appeared out of nowhere—and one of them pushed Jack! Before I could even think to react, Jack hauled off and punched the guy square in the face. He crumpled to the ground.

CHAPTER TWO

I RACED DOWN THE PATH.
“Jack!” I screamed. “Jack!”

He didn’t turn around. He kept his eyes on the two boys—one helping the other—running away down the beach.

“Jack, are you all right?” I yelled as I skidded to a stop beside him.

“I’m good, but it wasn’t me who got punched. Might be a better question to ask him,” he said, gesturing down the beach. The two boys were still moving away, although the one who hadn’t been hit looked back anxiously over his shoulder.

“But why did you punch him?”

“He shoved me. Didn’t you see?”

Lesley—who I’d completely forgotten about—stopped beside us.

“Um … this is Lesley,” I said. “And this is my brother, Jack.”

“I could tell you two were brothers,” she said.

“He doesn’t look anything like me,” Jack said. “I’m good-looking.”

She laughed. “Not by the way you look, by the way you act.”

Now Jack looked confused. “Has George been punching people?”

“Not punching—also not backing down. Those Brits don’t seem to like either of you,” she said.

“How did you know that guy was a Brit?” Jack asked.

“I know everybody in the school, and he’s from away. So why did he shove you to begin with?” she asked.

“He said something about how I shouldn’t be talking to that girl because she was of a different
station
… whatever that means.”

“It means that she’s ruling-class English and you’re a lowly colonial,” Lesley said.

“I figured it didn’t mean that she wasn’t good enough for me,” Jack said. “I told him to go take a hike and then he shoved me, so I popped him.”

“We’re supposed to stay out of fights,” I said.

“Sounds like you were barking up the same tree,” Jack said.

“Maybe, but I didn’t actually fight anybody.”

“Neither did I. I punched somebody and he ran away. That’s hardly a fight.”

“Besides, he started it,” Lesley said.

“Hey, I like this girl,” Jack said, and Lesley smiled. “All I did was finish the fight … well … maybe it’s finished.”

“Maybe?” I asked. “What else are you going to do?”

“I’m
not going to do anything.”

I understood what he meant. Maybe the guy who got punched would talk to his friends, and we didn’t have any friends yet … unless you counted Lesley. I figured she could probably deliver a pretty good punch.

“But even if he comes back with a couple of friends, I’m still okay. I don’t mind being outnumbered three to one,” Jack bragged.

“Don’t you mean three to two?” Lesley said, pointing at me.

I waited for Jack to make some smart comment.

“Yeah, you have a point. My baby brother can handle himself. He could have probably taken the two of them without my help.”

That wasn’t what I’d expected him to say.

“Thanks.”

“Sure … but really … how tough could they be if one punch sent them both packing?”

He had a point.

“We’d better get going, Georgie.”

“Georgie?” Lesley asked.

“No, it’s George. My name is George.” Oh great, I thought, nothing like starting over in a new place and bringing your old baby nickname with you.

Jack laughed. “Right, he’s George … but you call him Georgie if you want. Now, give your girlfriend a kiss goodbye, Georgie, and let’s get on our way.”

“She not my—”

Lesley reached over and kissed me on the cheek! And before I had a chance to react, she’d turned and was gone.

“Not a word!” I threatened Jack.

“Not a word,” he agreed. “But maybe a little song. How does that go again? … uh … yes, I remember.
Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie, kissed the girls—
”

I took a swing at Jack, but he dodged away and I almost fell over.

“—and made them cry!” he continued.

“At least I’m pretty sure that Lesley isn’t a German spy,” I said.

Before I could regret my words, Jack grabbed me by my school blazer, spun me around and pulled me up on my tippytoes so I was facing him eyeball to eyeball.

“Want to repeat that?” he asked.

“Not really. I think I’m pretty sorry I said it the first time.”

His angry look dissolved into a smile and he lowered me.

“I guess I deserved it,” he said.

“Not really. I’m sorry.”

Jack’s last girlfriend—really, his first and only girlfriend—had turned out to be a Nazi agent who was really twenty-two years old. She’d lied about everything, starting with her age. But to be fair, we’d lied, too, in order to protect our family’s cover story.

“Who was that girl you were with?” I asked.

“Her name is Louise. She’s very nice. She’s in my class.”

“Maybe in your grade. According to those two guys, you’re definitely
not
in her class,” I joked. “I’ve got a bunch of them in my room who are just like that.”

“I don’t care where they come from or who they think they are,” Jack said, “I just know I’m not taking it from anybody. And you make sure you don’t either, understand?”

“I understand.”

“Hey!” a voice came from behind.

We both turned. Coming down the beach were eight or nine boys, all in our school uniform. Leading the pack were two familiar faces—the guys who had run away. I felt a chill go down my spine. That’s why they’d been running, to get help.

“We could run. They wouldn’t catch us,” I said.

“They wouldn’t catch us today, but we’d still have to come to school on Monday. You get going … walk away and I’ll make sure they don’t go after you.”

For a split second, I almost agreed. “No. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“Last chance,” he warned me.

A noise caught my attention. Four more boys came out of the bushes behind us, blocking our getaway.

“Too late now,” I said.

“Watch my back,” Jack said.

The group slowly surrounded us. They knew they didn’t have to rush because we had no place to go.

“Where do you get off?” one of them, the biggest and oldest, demanded as he stopped right in front of Jack, his arms crossed over his chest. “You think you can just go around talking to whoever you want?”

“I don’t know. Right now it’s like I have to talk to people I don’t even want to talk to,” Jack replied.

The big guy looked thrown by Jack’s comment. He’d expected something different—maybe fear or an apology or Jack to back down or something. I was feeling enough fear for both of us, but I knew nobody was going to back down.

“Do you know that was somebody special you kissed?” he demanded.

“First off, I didn’t kiss anybody, and second, unlike you, only somebody special would kiss me.”

The boy looked shocked, and a few of the others snickered before he silenced them with a stare.

“And from the way he ran away after I punched him, I guess there must be somebody else who’s really special,” Jack said, “a special little girl, because no man would run away like that.”

“Cheeky little blighter,” he said. “You’re going to regret your actions and your words. I’m here to teach you a lesson.”