me, I saw she was a stranger.
"
Perdóneme,
" I said as politely and carefully as I could, but at the sight of me, the old woman darted right past, shaking her head and muttering something in Spanish that sounded like, "
No tengo dinero, no tengo dinero.
"
"
Dinero
âdoesn't that mean money?" I asked as the
old woman disappeared around a corner. "I bet she thought we were begging."
"Great," Amy said. "We didn't even have a chance to ask her where the nearest police station is."
"Will you stop being so sarcastic all the time?" I frowned at Amy. "If you want to know,
that
really gets on
my
nerves!"
"So now we're even!"
Without saying anything else, we walked side by side down the narrow street, passing closed doors and shuttered windows. Once a little boy rolled past on a skateboard, but he just laughed when I asked him where the nearest police station was. He didn't even look back before he vanished into the fog.
The street ended in a square containing a cafe, a grocery store, and a
farmacia,
all closed. On benches around a fountain sat five old men, two playing checkers, the others watching and laughing. At the sight of us, they looked at each other and muttered in rapid Spanish.
"
Gitanas,
" one said as I approached, phrasebook open to the page about the police station.
"
Socorro,
" I said, "
soy americana.
"
"No
tengo dinero,
" one gentleman interrupted me before I even got to the police part. "
¡Vamos!
"
"
Por favor,
" I tried again. "
¿Habla us ted inglés?
"
"
¡Vamos!
" Two of the old men got up and started toward Amy and me.
"
¡Policia!
" I cried, as Amy tried to pull me away. "
¿Dónde està la comisaria mas cercaria?
"
But the old men were all shouting now, making no
effort to understand me, and they looked very angry. Scared, I ran from the square with Amy.
"They definitely don't like Americans here," I said as we ran down Calle de los Angeles.
"They don't understand anything you're saying," Amy said. "You might as well give up and throw that dumb book in the trash."
Suddenly I stopped and pulled Amy into an alley. "The Volkswagen's coming!"
We ducked behind a pile of boxes. It was the bus all right, and Grace was driving with Phillip beside her. She was scanning both sides of the street, a frown creasing her forehead. I started to jump up and wave but Amy pulled me down.
"What's the matter with you?" she hissed as I struggled to get away from her. "Are you crazy?"
"It's Grace and Phillip," I told her. "They're looking for us!"
"It's a trick," Amy said. "Orlando and Charles are probably hiding in the back."
"I never thought of that." I listened to the engine fade away into the fog. With the Volkswagen prowling the streets searching for us, how were Amy and I ever going to get back to Segovia?
Then we heard another noise. A real bus was lumbering toward us. It was old and dusty and its sides were plastered with advertisements, but the sign on its front said Segovia.
"Come on, Amy!" Limping out of the alley, we ran after the bus as it vanished around a corner.
When we caught up with it, the bus was sitting all by
itself on the edge of the square. The old men were still playing checkers and kibitzing. They had been joined by three teenage boys on bicycles who seemed to have nothing to do but pedal around the fountain.
Trying to avoid attracting their attention, Amy and I edged along the side of the square, staying close to the walls, hoping the fog would hide us.
"Where's the driver?" Amy whispered as I peered through the open door of the bus.
"I don't see him," I said. "Maybe he went in there."
I pointed across the square at the cafe. Its doors were open now. From inside, I could heard voices. The delicious aroma of hot rolls and coffee wafted through the cool air, and my stomach rumbled so loudly I thought the old men would hear it.
"Do you have any money?" Amy asked.
I felt in my pockets and pulled out some coins. A five-peseta piece, a one-peseta piece, and
"
Perdóneme,
" I said as politely and carefully as I could, but at the sight of me, the old woman darted right past, shaking her head and muttering something in Spanish that sounded like, "
No tengo dinero, no tengo dinero.
"
"
Dinero
âdoesn't that mean money?" I asked as the
old woman disappeared around a corner. "I bet she thought we were begging."
"Great," Amy said. "We didn't even have a chance to ask her where the nearest police station is."
"Will you stop being so sarcastic all the time?" I frowned at Amy. "If you want to know,
that
really gets on
my
nerves!"
"So now we're even!"
Without saying anything else, we walked side by side down the narrow street, passing closed doors and shuttered windows. Once a little boy rolled past on a skateboard, but he just laughed when I asked him where the nearest police station was. He didn't even look back before he vanished into the fog.
The street ended in a square containing a cafe, a grocery store, and a
farmacia,
all closed. On benches around a fountain sat five old men, two playing checkers, the others watching and laughing. At the sight of us, they looked at each other and muttered in rapid Spanish.
"
Gitanas,
" one said as I approached, phrasebook open to the page about the police station.
"
Socorro,
" I said, "
soy americana.
"
"No
tengo dinero,
" one gentleman interrupted me before I even got to the police part. "
¡Vamos!
"
"
Por favor,
" I tried again. "
¿Habla us ted inglés?
"
"
¡Vamos!
" Two of the old men got up and started toward Amy and me.
"
¡Policia!
" I cried, as Amy tried to pull me away. "
¿Dónde està la comisaria mas cercaria?
"
But the old men were all shouting now, making no
effort to understand me, and they looked very angry. Scared, I ran from the square with Amy.
"They definitely don't like Americans here," I said as we ran down Calle de los Angeles.
"They don't understand anything you're saying," Amy said. "You might as well give up and throw that dumb book in the trash."
Suddenly I stopped and pulled Amy into an alley. "The Volkswagen's coming!"
We ducked behind a pile of boxes. It was the bus all right, and Grace was driving with Phillip beside her. She was scanning both sides of the street, a frown creasing her forehead. I started to jump up and wave but Amy pulled me down.
"What's the matter with you?" she hissed as I struggled to get away from her. "Are you crazy?"
"It's Grace and Phillip," I told her. "They're looking for us!"
"It's a trick," Amy said. "Orlando and Charles are probably hiding in the back."
"I never thought of that." I listened to the engine fade away into the fog. With the Volkswagen prowling the streets searching for us, how were Amy and I ever going to get back to Segovia?
Then we heard another noise. A real bus was lumbering toward us. It was old and dusty and its sides were plastered with advertisements, but the sign on its front said Segovia.
"Come on, Amy!" Limping out of the alley, we ran after the bus as it vanished around a corner.
When we caught up with it, the bus was sitting all by
itself on the edge of the square. The old men were still playing checkers and kibitzing. They had been joined by three teenage boys on bicycles who seemed to have nothing to do but pedal around the fountain.
Trying to avoid attracting their attention, Amy and I edged along the side of the square, staying close to the walls, hoping the fog would hide us.
"Where's the driver?" Amy whispered as I peered through the open door of the bus.
"I don't see him," I said. "Maybe he went in there."
I pointed across the square at the cafe. Its doors were open now. From inside, I could heard voices. The delicious aroma of hot rolls and coffee wafted through the cool air, and my stomach rumbled so loudly I thought the old men would hear it.
"Do you have any money?" Amy asked.
I felt in my pockets and pulled out some coins. A five-peseta piece, a one-peseta piece, and
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