A Way Through the Sea by Robert Elmer Page A

great,” said Peter. “I was going to stop by his house, but I wanted to get straight home instead.”
“Because of your outfit, right?” She started to giggle again.
“Come on, Elise. I’m fine.”
    But he wasn’t... not really. All the rest of that evening, Peter would feel himself shivering again. He kept thinking about what Uncle Morten had said to him. Stop shaking, he told himself as he got ready for bed around eight thirty.
    “Going to bed so early?” his mom asked. “Are you sure you’re all right, after that dunking?” She walked over and put her hand on Peter’s forehead. He ducked, but she stayed with him.
“I’m fine. Just a little tired.”
“Well, it’s been a long day for you,” she said, “and there’s no school tomorrow. You just get a good night’s sleep.”
“I will, Mom.”
    Peter almost told her that he felt strange, but there was no reason to get her more worried than she already was. I’ll feel better in the morning.
    He lay awake in bed, listening to everyone else in the apartment. Ten minutes went by. Twenty. An hour. So much for getting a good night’s sleep. Maybe he couldn’t sleep because of the nap he’d had on the boat. He rolled over, pulled up the covers, twitched and scratched. He tried counting pigeons. But no matter what he did, his uncle’s voice kept playing over and over again in his head. “If you really want to follow Jesus, it’s your move.”
    He put his pillow over his head, trying to make the thoughts go away, but, of course, they wouldn’t. It’s my move. Finally he fell into a restless sleep.
     
     

Rosh Hashanah
     
     
    9
     
     
     
     
    “One thing for sure,” Henrik announced as he and Peter were washing up for dinner at the Melchiors’ apartment later that week. He had a little trouble doing it one handed, his left arm still in a cast. But he managed all right. It was Thursday night, a school night, and somehow Peter’s mom and dad had allowed him to eat over at Henrik’s home. Maybe because it was a special Jewish holiday for the Melchiors, and Peter had been invited as the guest of honor. Peter was even going to be able to stay the night, which he didn’t understand at all because it wasn’t even a weekend. But both their moms had agreed over the phone, so he wasn’t going to argue. It was kind of like the way Peter’s grandfather had arranged for him to go out on the fishing boat. Strange, but okay.
    “One thing for sure,” Henrik repeated as they sat down at the small dinner table in one corner of the apartment. “We can’t let the dumb old war stop the Great Danish Pigeon Race.”
    “Oh?” Henrik’s dad had just sat down. His mother was bringing steaming dishes of food to the table, and the four of them were ready. “You had better explain that to me after we say the blessing.”
    Mr. and Mrs. Melchior looked more like brother and sister than husband and wife. They were both short and a little dark, at least darker than most other Danes. Mr. Melchior had a crop of thin black hair, cut short around his ears. Luckily, Mrs. Melchior had a lot more hair than that, though it was the same color. Henrik said once that his great grandparents had come to Denmark from Portugal, which was why his family looked the way they did.
    Mr. Melchior began the blessing. This wasn’t an ordinary night for Henrik and his parents, and it wasn’t an ordinary meal. It was, for Jewish families, the first day of the New Year celebration, called Rosh Hashanah. Henrik had said that this dinner was the first celebration in a ten day period that went all the way to something called Yom Kippur. The Day of Atonement. Peter was surprised they had invited him. He had never been to anything like this in the years since the Melchiors had moved to town.
    The guest of honor didn’t know exactly what was going on, so he just watched. Mr. Melchior looked at Peter, and Peter felt like a tourist visiting the Kronborg Castle for the first time. Henrik’s