Free Samurai Summer by Åke Edwardson Page B

brought me food in bed. The plate was steaming and it smelled good. Maybe it was pork chops. I remembered that my dad liked pork chops. We had pork chops on Saturdays sometimes—every third or fourth Saturday.
    I sat up. It smelled of eggs and ham.
    “You’ve got to eat a little, Tommy,” said Matron. “Eat this.”
    “What is it?” I asked thinking it was that same old oatmeal she was holding even though the whole room smelled of eggs and ham.
    “Ham and eggs,” she said.
    The first thing I thought was,
Is it Sunday?
Sunday breakfast in bed.
    “I… don’t want any,” I said.
    “Don’t be silly,” she said. “It’s fresh out of the pan.”
    First I thought I’d show off my pride and refuse to accept it. I’d prove that my willpower was stronger than my hunger. Then I thought about how I’d eaten all that other disgusting stuff they’d served before. This didn’t seem disgusting at all. And just because it was Matron who was standing here now with ham and eggs, I decided to take it because that proved I had won this round and they had admitted defeat.
    I reached out and took the plate. There was a fork lying on it. The plate was still warm as though it had been in the oven.
    Matron left the dormitory—a shadow that disappeared. I could hear her footsteps on the stairs.
    “Maybe they’ve been poisoned,” I heard from the bed next to mine. “The eggs.”
    Sausage peeked out from under the blanket. I could see how he had trembled while Matron had been standing there. That was the first time she had ever paid a visit to the dormitory in the middle of the night.
    “Matron sprayed arsenic on the yolk.”
    “Want to try it first?” I asked.
    He came over and sat on the edge of my bed.
    “Mmm, smells good.”
    “Want a piece of ham?”
    “Nah, you eat it,” he said, looking a little worried. Maybe he really believed what he had said about it being poisoned.
    I put a piece of egg and a piece of ham in my mouth and chewed. It tasted wonderful.
    Then the others began to stir. Micke came over to my bed and then Lennart.
    “I wonder what this means,” said Lennart.
    “Does Matron want to make peace?” asked Micke.
    “With me?” I mumbled with my mouth full of food.
    “Maybe just for now.”
    “Never trust a grown-up,” said Lennart.
    Those were the truest words ever spoken. Never trust agrown-up. It was impossible to figure out why Matron had done what she had done, and right now I couldn’t really think straight. I was starting to feel warm all over my body. When I was really hungry I always felt cold.
    “She was scared,” said Micke. “They didn’t dare let you starve anymore.”
    “They could have just fried up the oatmeal instead,” said Lennart.
    “Mmm,” said Sausage, taking in the smell again. “If this is what you get out of it, then maybe I should refuse to eat.”
    “You want those last bits?” I offered, and I pushed the plate toward him. I felt full like I had swallowed a barrel of cement. “It wasn’t poisoned.”
    Sausage gobbled up the piece of egg in half a second. You’d think it was the first time he’d eaten a fried egg.
    “Mmm!”
    “So what happens now?” asked Lennart.
    “What do you mean?” I asked, and I stretched out my leg, which had started to cramp from balancing the plate on it.
    “Does this mean peace?” asked Lennart.
    “I certainly hope not,” said Micke.
    “Nothing’s changed,” I said, “except that we won this round.”
    “Maybe they’ll send you away anyway?”
    “It’s a lot of work for them,” I said. “They’re too lazy to organize everything they’d need to get me out of here.”
    I pointed at the plate that Sausage was busy licking.
    “That was easier.”
    “So what happens the next time we refuse to eat?”
    “We?” I threw my legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. “Did anyone other than me refuse to eat?”
    “The next time someone refuses,” said Micke. “You or one of us.”
    “They’ll get ham and