After she and Mama had washed the dishes, she went to her room and tried to do her homework. Baba had said they must go back to school. But how could she unless Mehmet went as well? Even though she rarely saw him at school, she had to know that he was there—that they were holding together against those who despised them.
She dimly heard the telephone ring in the kitchen and didn't think to wonder who might be calling. But before long Baba knocked on her half-open door. "Meli, are you dressed?"
"Yes, Baba." She whispered so as not to wake Vlora, who was sleeping peacefully in the other bed.
"Wash your face and comb your hair. We have visitors coming."
Visitors? At nine o'clock at night?
Then she heard Baba at Mehmet's door. She didn't want to listen to them argue. She couldn't bear it. She went quickly to the bathroom and washed her face. She patted down her hair and then went into the kitchen, where Mama was busy making coffee. She had changed into her nicest dress.
"Mama?"
"Take some chairs from the kitchen into the parlor, Meli. We need more chairs in there."
As she was bringing in a second chair, Baba and Mehmet emerged from the boys' room. "Help your sister, Mehmet," Baba said.
Mehmet brought in a chair and sat down on it, his body as stiff as a pole. Meli and Mama sat on the others. She waited for some explanation from Baba, but none came. At length they could hear footsteps on the stairs. It sounded like a number of people. Police! They are going to arrest us for being Muslim. No, that was crazy. Police didn't call ahead to say they were coming. And Mama wouldn't be dressed up and making coffee if she thought they were all going to be hauled off to jail. It was a ridiculous fear. Still, it was a few seconds before her heart stopped racing. Just some of the welcomers, surely. But why would they come so late at night?
At the knock, Baba nodded at Meli, so she got up and opened the door. The first person she saw in the dark hallway was Mrs. Rogers; just behind her was Mr. Marcello, and with him Adona. Why was Adona here? They hadn't needed a translator for months. Mehmet or she or one of the other children had done all the translating for their parents. The three visitors were in the process of taking off their shoes. Adona must have told the others to. Americans didn't seem to know how important it was.
"Let the guests in, Meli," Baba said. He and Mama stood up.
When Mehmet saw his coach, he started for his bedroom, but Baba grabbed his arm.
"How are you, Meli?" Mrs. Rogers asked.
Meli tried to smile back, but her face felt frozen.
Adona stepped forward and said to Baba in Albanian, "These are the children's coaches for playing soccer." She introduced Mrs. Rogers and Mr. Marcello to Mama and Baba. The adults shook hands formally. Then Baba indicated that everyone, including Mehmet, was to take a seat. The three guests sat down on the couch.
"I have made coffee," Mama said shyly to Adona. "Shall I bring it out? We don't have any cola or mineral water, but..."
Adona shook her head. "I don't think so," she said. "It's late. They won't stay long."
Mr. Marcello was sitting on the edge of the couch cushion. He had taken off his baseball cap and was playing with it. The light from the ceiling fixture seemed to bounce off his bald scalp. Finally, without looking at Baba, he spoke to Adona.
"Tell Mr. Lleshi," the coach said, "that I've come to apologize for what happened to his son today."
Adona translated. Mehmet sat like a stone on the kitchen chair, his lips tight, a bruise on his face dark against his red cheek. Meli could still see the dried blood in his nostrils.
"Tell him," the coach continued, "that it will never happen again. I will not tolerate this kind of behavior. Tomorrow those boys are off the team. For good." As Adona translated, Meli saw that Mr. Marcello had a hole in one of his socks. She could see his big toe sticking out like a tiny bald head. Poor man, she thought. How hard this must be for him. She glanced at Mehmet to see if he felt any pity for his coach. If he did, there was no sign of it.
"And you should tell Mr. and Mrs. Lleshi that I totally agree with Coach Marcello," Mrs. Rogers said. "I am cutting every girl who took part in that scene in the locker room today."
But that would be the whole team! Meli thought, and then wondered how her coach had found out what had happened. Someone must have been ashamed and told her. Meli hoped it had been Rachel.
"I should have been there. I'm usually just next door in my office, but I had been called to the main office, so I wasn't there when it happened. Otherwise ... I cannot tell you how sorry I am."
Baba listened, his head bent toward the translator to make sure he understood every word. When Adona finished, he looked up at the coaches. "Sank you," he said. Then he turned back to Adona. "Tell the kind teachers that it would not be a good thing to remove those boys and girls from their teams. They will only become bitter and hate my children all the more. Tell the teachers that my children are strong. They have endured many hard things in their short lives. They can also endure this." He waited for Adona to say the words in English; when she paused, he continued. "Tell them my children wish to be respected as fellow teammates and not despised because of their heritage. That is the way of the old country. This is America, tell them. In America, everyone has a new beginning."
When Adona finished translating, Mrs. Rogers smiled, first at Baba and then at Meli. "And what about you, Meli?" she asked softly. "Do you agree? Should I let everyone stay on the team?"
"Yes, like Baba said."
"Even Brittany?"
"You can't have a team without a goalkeeper."