Free The Day of the Pelican by Katherine Paterson Page A

being on watch. When Meli woke up she saw that Mehmet was still sitting up, as wide-awake as he had been when she fell asleep.
    ***
    They began walking again that afternoon, and just as the night before, they were walking toward an endless procession of their countrymen heading westward. Though they weren't just walking now; they were climbing. Meli knew from all Mr. Uka's geography lessons that they must cross the hills into eastern Kosovo before they could reach Macedonia. Baba and Uncle Fadil were right, no matter what Mehmet thought. Surely the passes through the Cursed Mountains to the west and the Sharr range to the southwest would have been too much of a barrier for a family like theirs.
    But although the distance seemed relatively short if you looked at a map, and the hills far gentler than the mountains, the walk from the Plain of Dukagjin to the eastern plain was a hard trek for the Lleshis. Cars and tractors pulling wagons loaded with people and household goods rolled slowly past them. Meli tried not to envy the riders or worry that she and her family were indeed heading in the wrong direction. She kept telling herself that they were all together. That was the important thing. They had one another. And a pot. A pot that held water. She guarded that old pot as carefully as if it had been Mama's treasured photo.
    Once across the hills, they found that they were no longer walking against the flow of refugees. "Where are all these people coming from?" Meli asked Mehmet.
    "Prishtina," he said.
    It should have been easier, walking with the crowd instead of against it, but if they stumbled in their weariness, they found themselves pushed and jostled from behind. Once Meli caught Baba counting heads, making sure everyone was still there, still together in the crowd. Around them there was a constant clamor of conversation, of children crying and adults trying to comfort or cajole. On and on they walked. Then, without warning, the clamor turned to shrieks.
    "Get off the road!" someone screamed, and as soon as they did, three cars came racing into their midst. Almost before the vehicles came to a stop, Serb policemen were jumping out of the doors, shouting at the crowd, "This way! This way!"
    "Hold on to the boys, Meli," Baba ordered. "Don't let them separate us."
    In her haste, she dropped the precious pot. It rolled away, clanging on rocks. Should she try to get it? No, she must hold on to her brothers. The pot was gone. She grabbed Isuf's and Adil's hands and pressed as close to Baba and Granny's wheelbarrow as she could.
    "This way! This way!" the policemen kept yelling, herding the Albanians as though they were balky sheep, pushing them across railroad tracks and down toward a tiny rail station. One of the policemen grabbed the handles of Granny's wheelbarrow. He started to tip it up as though he was going to dump her out. Mehmet jumped forward to catch her.
    "Get her out of my way!" the man ordered.
    Carefully, Mehmet helped Granny to her feet. She swayed and clutched at Mehmet.
    The policeman waved his pistol in the air. "Hurry!"
    "My grandmother has trouble walking," Mehmet said, glowering at the policeman.
    "Not another word," Baba muttered. He lifted Granny in his arms and began to walk, all the family close behind.

EIGHT:  
Terror and Tragedy

    T O MELI IT FELT AS THOUGH THEY WERE WAITING FOR A train that was never coming. Eventually, people began to sit down on the platform. She tried not to think about the stories she'd read in school about trains that took people to concentration camps and death. She tried not to watch the policemen, who were patrolling the edges of the crowd, waving their guns in the air, threatening to shoot troublemakers. There was to be no food, no water, even. And, more immediately, she was desperate to relieve herself. She whispered this to Mama.
    Finally, Baba got up and went over to speak to one of the policemen. The man nodded angrily. Baba came back and spoke softly to Mama. He had