Dear Blue Sky by Mary Sullivan Page B

thousand troops there. He’s fine.”
    â€œHow do you know?”
    â€œBelieve me, I know,” Dad said. “Have I ever lied to you?”
    â€œPromise?”
    â€œYes. Promise.”
    â€œThe war is stupid,” Jack said.
    Mom turned to him. Her lips pinched up. “Who said that?”
    â€œCassie.”
    â€œYou think it’s stupid too,” I said to her.
    â€œWe have to respect the troops.” Her voice broke. “We have to.”
    â€œBecause we’re blowing everything up,” Jack said.
    â€œIs that what she told you?” Mom asked.
    He nodded.
    â€œThey’re looking for weapons,” Dad said. “They’re hidden in houses, and terrorists are everywhere.”
    â€œBlue Sky says there weren’t terrorists before the war,” I said.
    â€œWho’s Blue Sky?” Mom tipped her wineglass to her mouth.
    â€œA girl from Iraq who has a blog I’ve been reading for social studies.”
    â€œDid did did did you hear the falling bombs,” Jack sang.
    â€œWhere’d you learn that?” Mom frowned.
    â€œSef’s box.”
    â€œWell, don’t sing it at the supper table, please.” She turned to me. “And why do you assume everything’s our fault? Why do you care about
them
so much?”
    I clenched my fork. “Mom, I care about Sef more than anything in the world.”
    For the first time since I told Dad on her, her eyes softened when she looked at me. She was beginning to come out of the Deep Freeze. Part of me was relieved, but part of me had gotten used to the silent chill of these past weeks. It was easier not to say anything.
    Dad looked like he felt sorry for me. “Sure there were terrorists. That country’s always been at war, and Saddam Hussein is a mass murderer. He’s wiping out the Kurds and anyone else—”
    â€œWas,” I said. “He’s in jail now. Anyway, that’s what Blue Sky said, and she lives there.”
    â€œWhere’d she get a name like Blue Sky?” Dad asked. “And did she say anything about the plastic shredders or torturing the soccer players?”
    â€œJoe,” Mom said.
    â€œWhat’s a mass murderer?” Jack asked.
    We all looked at him. Mom filled her wineglass.
    â€œYou don’t want to know,” Van said.
    â€œYes I do,” Jack said.
    â€œYou shouldn’t criticize our troops,” Mom said loudly.
    â€œShe didn’t say anything about the troops,” Dad said. “She just doesn’t have the full picture.”
    â€œI don’t want to hear it. All those troops are putting their lives on the line for that country,” Mom said. “Including my son.”
    â€œ
Our
son. Remember? It is
our
family. I want to keep it that way.” Dad turned to me. “And, Cass, as far as terrorism goes, Saddam Hussein is a terrorist. Facts are facts.”
    â€œSo we should start a war in every country whose leader is a terrorist?” I was suddenly so mad about everything. I needed someone on my side. Jack didn’t count. He was on everyone’s side. I closed my eyes and mouth. I didn’t say anything. I held on to that anger—squeezed it between my teeth. I had made a deal—I was trying to be good.
    Jack ran to the TV and began to shoot with his fingers pointed like a gun. “Pow! Pow! Mom, I got the mass murderers! Sef can come home!”
    â€œThank you, Jack.” Her eyes were watering. “I don’t even know if Sef’s getting something decent to eat over there.”
    Whatever he was having was probably better than what we were having, I thought.
    â€œSupper, Sef, supper! Supper, Sef!” Jack called into the TV.

CHAPTER 19
    NO WHERE IS SAFE
    ON THANKSGIVING NIGHT I looked for an email from Sef and found a new blog from Blue Sky.
    Â 
    Blue Sky’s Blog
    Â 
    November 23, 2006
    A lot days past. Sorry. The electricity is very bad, on and off, most