Free Troubling a Star by Madeleine L'Engle

I’m enjoying poking around this city and realizing how much more I would be enjoying it if you were with me. I’m having fun listening in on conversations people don’t realize I can understand. This is a strange place. It’s quite obvious that it’s no longer the democracy it was under El Zarco. There are too many soldiers with automatic weapons for my liking. They seem ready to shoot, and one of them for no reason that I could see simply stopped me from walking down what looked like an ordinary street.
    Tomorrow I’m going to the pyramids, and I’ve been assigned a soldier to accompany me. I don’t know why. I can go by myself perfectly well. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but it’s as though they don’t want people to see everything. I remember my dad talking about feeling the same way during a trip to Russia when the KGB was in power in the Soviet Union. I’m not sure it’s that bad here, and I guess soldiers and guns are common in any country where there’s a dictator. I’m very glad Cook will be with you. Despite his monastic otherworldliness, he’s also a very with-it guy, and you’ll be fine with him. His Spanish is good—a little more classical than mine.

    I paused, letting the pages drop in my lap, wishing momentarily that I was taking Spanish at school. Then I read on.

    You’ll be here in another month. Yay! Seeing everything I’m seeing. I’m looking forward to getting to the Falklands, not
just to see Seth and the Leedses, but to get my first glimpse of penguins.
    I hope everything is okay with you, and I feel really terrific that you’re coming to LeNoir Station. I look forward to showing you around. Not that there’s much to see, but maybe we can ride an iceberg together.
    Love,
Adam

    My heart soared. And then, probably because I didn’t need it, I got asked to the Christmas dance, and by a reasonable guy who played soccer and was in my Shakespeare class. But, on the whole, school seemed pretty peripheral. I did my homework, but most of my mind was on Antarctica. Nanny promised to keep notes for me, and she’d also let me know all the gossip. But I was in a hurry each day for school to be over so I could get on the bus and go to Clovenford to Aunt Serena’s. Usually I stopped off in the kitchen to see Cook.
    â€œI’m glad you’re having this trip, Miss Vicky.” He was stirring something on the stove that wafted a delicious odor into the room.
    â€œI’m too excited to tell you how excited I am. And I’m very glad I’m traveling with you. Can’t you just call me Vicky?”
    Cook gave me his most monkish look. “In this day and age of instant intimacy, it isn’t bad for you to be treated with a little formal courtesy. If I am old-fashioned, you will have to humor me.”
    â€œShouldn’t I call you Mr. Cook, then?”
    The crown of his head, where it was bald, caught the
light. He flashed me a smile. “Cookie is fine. Perhaps when we’re traveling I’ll be less formal.”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œAfter I leave the ship at Port Stanley, Benjy Stone will take charge of you. Benjy is the penguin expert, and a good friend of Seth’s and mine. And then, at the end of your trip, I’ll meet you at Puerto Williams—that will be the Argosy ’s last port of call for this voyage.”
    â€œHow will you get to Puerto Williams from Port Stanley?” I asked.
    â€œSeth has a fifty-foot stinkpot he bought from an old friend in the Pacific Northwest. He sailed it from Seattle all the way to the Falklands, so I can promise you she’s a seaworthy ark. The Portia , Seth’s boat, has been in very rough waters and weathered many a storm.”
    â€œI’ll get to meet Seth!”
    â€œOf course, Miss Vicky, in Port Stanley. I say ‘of course’ and I hope it will be of course, but Seth is more reclusive than I ever was, and