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of potholes as she makes her way between the unloading zone and the factory. She’s happy and so am I. When I see her not far from the spot where I sort things with the Betov family, I stand up and wave to her. Stambek does the same, and we shout, “Hello!” Gloria honks three times and flashes her lights. All the pickers of nickel are startled, and Stambek laughs like a madman until his father slaps his head. Then we calm down and go back to work. But the most important thing is that at night Gloria doesn’t cough as much.
    Stambek has four sisters. The youngest one is only six years old, and the oldest is thirteen. In the middle there are the twins, Suki and Maya, the ones I like best. To tell them apart, Mrs. Betov gave me a tip: Suki has a beauty spot close to her mouth, whereas Maya’s is located between her eyebrows, likea period between two sentences. I look at the twins a lot, but I can’t decide which one is prettier. And when one of them happens to talk to me, I mumble and I get confused. I become a complete idiot. Exactly like Gloria when Zemzem gave her his flask of water and she couldn’t say a word.
    Even Stambek notices that his sisters make my heart beat faster. Every time my eyes rest on them, he puckers his lips and makes kissing sounds.
    “Stop it!” I tell him. “It’s disgusting!”
    His face drops. “Really? It’s disgusting?”
    “Yes!”
    But, like always, he forgets everything and does it again until my cheeks become warmer than the coal under the samovar.
    At night in our shed Gloria notices me daydream.
    “What makes you sigh like that, Koumaïl?” she asks.
    “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
    “Just as I thought … you’re in love.”
    I grumble, and Gloria laughs as she makes pancakes.
    “There’s nothing wrong with being in love!” she says. “It’s probably the most beautiful thing in the world. When I walked with Zemzem along the railroad tracks, I was happier than ever before.…”
    She sighs loudly and starts daydreaming too, her gaze lost through the plastic of the window.
    After a while I jump up. “Is something burning?” I cry.
    “God damn it!” Gloria says, retrieving the burned pancakes.
    I make a face. “They’re like coal now!” I say.
    “Tsk, tsk, tsk! They’re well done, is all!”
    I sit on the floor, on top of the tarp that we found and use as a rug. We smile at each other as we chew our burned dinner. Sometimes I have the feeling that my heart is directly linked to Gloria’s.
    “Even if I’m in love,” I say, “I’ll always love you, right?”
    “Of course, Monsieur Blaise! And don’t forget your real mother. You must think of her, too!”
    I nod to make her happy.
    But as hard as I try to imagine Jeanne Fortune’s frail figure and pale face, I can’t see my mother as other than tall, with dark hair and red cheeks, and a little on the heavy side.

chapter twelve
    ONE spring day Stambek and I go to the hiring station, but Chief refuses to give us grapnels. He says that no one is going to work today because it’s a religious holiday.
    “Religion is fine and a day of rest is great, but what are we going to eat tonight?” I grumble.
    Suddenly Stambek decides to bring me to a spot that he discovered when he was taking a walk. When Stambek has an idea, he can’t let go of it! I decide to follow him, and this is how I discover the lake.
    It’s about an hour away on foot from the corrugated-iron area, in a wild spot where the wind whirls. Stambek explains that he found this place when he followed a group of people carrying fishing rods. I see that there are a lot of fishermen along the shores of the lake.
    “Tonight we’ll eat fish!” my friend shouts.
    We don’t have fishing rods, but we’re handy, and given the diverse rubbish that’s around us, we’re not short ofsupplies. An old radio antenna, a plastic thread, a rusty nail—and we’re ready.
    We make our way over the soft bank, our shoes sinking in the mud. On the opposite