Mehmet shrugged. "They don't make so much of prayers here," he said.
***
Christmas, Baba had heard of. How could you live among Christians and not hear of it? Again, though, there didn't seem to be much religion in it.
"What is Santa Claus going to bring me, Baba?" Vlora asked.
"I don't know this Santa Claus person."
Once more, Mehmet took charge. He wheedled a little money from Mama and got the younger children presents "from Santa Claus": a tiny doll for Vlora and a soccer ball for Isuf and Adil to share. It was hardly enough to brag about to their friends, but it was something, and Meli was grateful that Mehmet cared enough to make them feel included in the American celebrations. The welcomers came with gifts: warm socks, gloves for the older members of the family and mittens for the younger, winter caps, and a ham for their Christmas dinner so big that it lasted a month. They hadn't eaten pork in Kosovo—it was against Muslim customs—but somehow in this land of strangeness it felt fitting.
Then it was 2000, a new year, a new century, a new millennium. All the terror and loss the family had endured since the day of the pelican were in the past. All the wars and oppression that their nation had suffered were of another age. "Everything is new!" Baba declared. "Alhamdulila! God be praised!"
***
Meli found she was actually getting used to school. She didn't know for sure when the torrents of noise broke into sentences that actually made sense to her, but by her fourteenth birthday in June, English was no longer the headache-making racket it had been in September. Her ears had become accustomed to its strange sounds, and the new words began to feel far less clumsy in her mouth. There was a special school term in the summer for people who needed to catch up. The days were hot and the building was not air-conditioned, but her old school had been even hotter. The classes were small, and she could understand almost everything that went on. It was only when the other students talked and joked among themselves that she had trouble following.
As for Mehmet, he had discovered that there was a group of boys who gathered every afternoon on the school soccer field to play. At first he just stood and watched, but soon he joined in, so Meli would go on home without him. He would return later, his face flushed, his eyes wide with excitement. It was a real regulation field with good, almost new balls, and the other boys were skilled enough to provide a challenge. "Of course, I am the best," he declared.
Mr. Marcello, the high school boys' soccer coach, stopped by one afternoon to watch the boys play. When the game was breaking up, he called Mehmet over and asked him to try out for the regular team.
***
One afternoon in August, when the boys' team had begun its fall practice, Meli took Isuf and Adil over to the school to watch Mehmet and his teammates. She tried not to gaze across the school grounds to the distant field where the girls' team was practicing. If only she had been allowed to play at home. It looked like so much fun, and here girls could play, too. But she'd never learned; she'd only watched.
"Look, Meli, over there. Those are girls."
"I know, Isuf. They have a girls' team, too."
"Really? Then why don't you play?"
"I don't know how."
"Yes, you do. You've watched millions of times. You could do it." Then, without another word, Isuf took off running toward the far field.
She shaded her eyes, trying to see where he had gone.
"He's talking to somebody," Adil said. "Is he supposed to talk to strangers?"
"I think it's a teacher, Adil. It's okay."
"I think we'd better check on him."
She took his hand and walked over to the other field. Isuf was talking animatedly to a woman.
"She's the coach, Adil. It's okay. She's a teacher."
Adil let go of Meli's hand and ran over to his brother. Both the coach and Isuf turned to see where Adil was pointing, and then they followed him to where Meli stood.
"Your brother tells me you might be a soccer player," she said.
Meli shook her head. "No, it's my older brother who is the soccer player. Not me."
"But if your brother is such a fine player, I suspect you might have some talent as well. How about coming tomorrow and trying out for us?"
Meli's heart began to pound. What if...? "I don't think my father would ... I mean, in our family, girls don't..."
"Would you like for me to call him?"