“It’s Friday night,” Gram said over her shoulder. “The Orbans want us to come for dinner. Wash your face and . . .”
Lily didn’t wait to hear the rest. Mrs. Orban would know about Albert and Ruth. She went into the bathroom quickly to comb her hair and run water over her hands. The water came in spurts at first, the way it always after the winter. Lily leaned forward to look in the mirror, wondering if she looked different this year. She closed her eyes, remembering that Friday night last summer, getting ready to go to the Orbans’, and Gram holding the washcloth over her red eyes, after she’d cried for Poppy. And she thought about Albert, with his dark hair and blue eyes.
If only Albert were there.
Lily thought about her problem list for the first time in a long time. Lies, and Daydreaming, and Friends, need. She didn’t lie anymore. Every time she started to lie, she thought of Albert and closed her mouth. She still daydreamed, though. Sister Benedicta had told her that all writers did that, and that as long as you knew the difference between lies and daydreams you were in good shape.
Now Gram was knocking at the bathroom door. “Poppy’s gone down to the Orbans’ ahead of us,” she said, “and if you don’t hurry in there, the dinner will be ruined. They’re all waiting . . .”
Lily made a face in the mirror, then scooped up a handful of water for her face. “I’m ready,” she said, “ready now.”
They walked down to the Orbans’ on the road side, the tufts of grass bright against the sand, Lily carrying the cat along with her.
Halfway down the road, Lily could smell the fish cooking. She could hear Poppy talking, and the rumble of Mr. Orban’s voice. Mr. Orban’s Ford was in the driveway, the headlights still painted black. She’d help him scrape them off first thing tomorrow.
Gram was looking toward her, and leaned over suddenly to kiss Lily’s cheek. “It was a long war, a terrible war,” she said, “but sometimes, even in the worst times, something lovely happens.”
“What . . . ,” Lily began. She reached up to feel her cheek, the first time she could ever remember Gram kissing her when it wasn’t time to leave for school, or to go to bed.
She put her arms around Gram. “Szeretlek,” she whispered so softly she didn’t know if Gram had heard.
And then she saw that Gram was pointing, nodding at her, and smiling. Lily looked toward the Orbans’ house, almost knowing what she was going to see, not believing it could really happen, that it wasn’t just Mrs. Orban waiting at the door. She thought about the cat. Of course Albert had kept the cat. That meant . . .
And there he was with the same mop of dark hair, and those bright blue eyes, and next to him, a girl with the same eyes, and she was smiling too.
Lily stopped to kiss Gram, and then she was walking toward them, feeling a little shy, but only for a moment, because Albert was pulling Ruth down the steps, and she could hear him saying, “It’s Lily, it’s my best friend, Lily.”
Dear Reader:
I truly hope you’ve enjoyed reading Lily’s story.
It seems that Lily’s world has always been in my head. I’ve wanted to write about that world for years. Rockaway Beach, the Atlantic Ocean, ships steaming in convoys toward Europe, and the Second World War were part of my childhood. I remember the summer of 1944, remember the invasion and the news of the allied armies as they marched across France and liberated Paris late that August. I remember the fears of that time, and how personal it all was. I was surprised that other people, sometimes even adults, thought about the same things I did and had much the same worries. But most of all, I remember that friendship, in the secret world of childhood, added comfort and joy and was the very texture of my life.
I’ve written about friendship before, but in a lighthearted way, laughing as I’ve worked through the lives of Casey, Tracy & Company and the Polk Street Kids. But this time, I wanted to explore what happens to people as they forge a relationship in a more serious way. I wanted to tell my readers that even though the times are different now, people have always worried about the same things . . . loss and separation, the future, and sometimes war. I want readers to know that love and friendship make a difference.
Patricia Reilly Giff
Patricia Reilly Giff is the author of many beloved books for children, including the Kids of the Polk Street School books, the Friends and Amigos books, and the Polka Dot Private Eye books. Her novels for middle-grade readers include The Gift of the Pirate Queen and the Casey, Tracy & Company books. She lives in Weston, Connecticut.
ALSO BY PATRICIA REILLY GIFF
The Gift of the Pirate Queen
Matthew Jackson Meets the Wall
Shark in School
Poopsie Pomerantz, Pick Up Your Feet
Love, from the Fifth-Grade Celebrity
Fourth-Grade Celebrity
The Girl Who Knew It All
Left-Handed Shortstop
The Winter Worm Business
Rat Teeth
Have You Seen Hyacinth Macaw?
Loretta P. Sweeny, Where Are You?
Tootsie Tanner, Why Don’t You Talk?
Published by
Delacorte Press
Random House Children’s Books, Inc.
1540 Broadway
New York, New York 10036
Copyright © 1997 by Patricia Reilly Giff
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Giff, Patricia Reilly.
Lily’s Crossing / Patricia Reilly Giff.
p. cm.
Summary: During a summer spent at Rockaway Beach in 1944, Lily’s friendship with a young Hungarian refugee causes her to see the war and her own world differently.
1. World War, 1939–1945—United States—Juvenile fiction. [1. World War, 1939–1945—United States—Fiction. 2. Friendship—Fiction. 3. Refugees—Fiction. 4. Beaches—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.G3626St 1997
[Fic]—dc20
96-23021
CIP
AC
eISBN: 978-0-385-72993-2
v3.0
Patricia Reilly Giff, Lily's Crossing
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