Free I Must Betray You by Ruta Sepetys Page A

nearby.
    He wrote: These are videos that friends send us from home.
    I took the pad from him: Your friends send you American movies?
    He wrote: No, they film themselves with their video cameras.
    â€œNot many visitors here,” he said aloud. “It’s nice to see people once in a while.”
    Wait. Americans not only had video players and color TVs, they had video cameras to make their own movies? I looked at Dan, confused. The image on the screen was frozen. He handed me the headphones. I put them on and he pressed a button on the video machine.
    A scene suddenly came to life. Three American guys were in a huge kitchen amidst a blaze of light. The ceiling alone had four lightbulbs. And they were all on.
    â€œThe Super Bowl is in New Orleans this year, but I wouldn’t bet on your precious Cowboys, Dan.”
    Their voices rolled through the headphones. I heard them speaking, but my eyes were glued to the screen. Stuck to the lower right corner. Staring at a table and a large glass bowl—
    Of bananas.
    Not just one banana. Many bananas. Large bananas.
    A woman entered the kitchen and a boy began to complain.
    â€œAw, Mom, you stepped in the frame. We’re making a video for Dan to cheer him up.”
    â€œYeah, apparently communism sucks,” laughed another boy.
    â€œIt’s not funny,” said the woman. “Dan’s father says it’s very difficult in Romania. Hello, Dan!” she called to the camera as she circulated around the kitchen. “Tell your parents I said hello and that we miss them! Wish them a Happy Thanksgiving for us.”
    As the mother spoke, she opened the door of a gigantic, towering refrigerator. Even the inside of the refrigerator had a light. And then I saw it. I felt my mouth opening. The wide shelves, they were all packed. Stuffed from top to bottom.
    With food.
    All kinds of food. In bottles, cans, cartons, dividers, and drawers. So many colors and quantities.
    Of food.
    I leaned closer to the screen.
    Fresh. Ripe. Just waiting to be eaten.
    A pang of desperate sadness filled my chest and crawled up into my throat.
    That refrigerator had enough food to feed a Romanian for an entire year.
    The woman on-screen removed a cluster of Coke cans from the refrigerator. She carried it to the table, along with a plate of crackers, sliced meats, and cheese. No one pushed or lined up. The boys casually grazed at the food while continuing to speak to the camera. I stared.
    The bananas. Weren’t they going to eat the bananas? But the bananas remained in the bowl.
    Untouched.
    A hand on my shoulder. It startled me. I removed the headphones.
    â€œSorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Dan gestured to the TV. “Cool, right? Far away but seems like they’re so close.”
    â€œYes, cool,” I said, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat.
    â€œI’ve gotta go,” said Dan.
    â€œYou going to the American Library?”
    â€œNo, meeting my parents at the embassy.” He paused, looking at me. “How did you know I go to the library?”
    Damn. I was so thrown by the food. I slipped.
    â€œOh, all Romanians have heard of the American Library,” I lied. “Seems like a place where I could practice my English.”
    â€œSure.” Dan nodded. “I was planning on going Saturday to see if they have any new magazines. You can come with me if you want. Come by after school and we’ll go together.”
    â€œOkay.”
    I followed Dan out of the room. My head felt detached, spinning with thoughts. Liliana’s question floated back to me.
    Cristian, do you ever wonder if any of it’s real? The things we see in American movies?
    The video I saw that afternoon was not a fabricated script.
    The boys on-screen were not actors.
    They were real people, in a real house in the West, with real food.
    It was all true.
    And everything we’d been fed?
    It was all lies.

22
DOUĂZECI ȘI DOI
    We walked