Escolar Documentos
Profissional Documentos
Cultura Documentos
BRIDGE
S C H O L A S T I C P R E S S N e w Y or k
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w
Again, she was the only customer in the store, but as she
glanced around she realized that they had nothing in stock but
a gray pile of ground pork.
Shoo! the butcher said. Ive got work to do. He snatched
up a penknife and started picking his teeth with it. Laura left.
He was clearlydefiantlynot busy. The real problem
seemed to be that he was out of sausage.
Ever hopeful, Karen turned right on her quest for black
bread, toward the Palace Bridge, which led to Nevsky Prospekt
and the center of the city. Laura turned left, walking down the
University Embankment to the Builders Bridge that led to
Dormitory Number Six. She had to write a paper for Grammar
class on A Typical Day at My American University.
Leningrad State University dominated Vasilievsky Island,
which sat in the middle of the Neva River like an iceberg, dividing it into the Big Neva and the Little Neva. Karen was headed
over the Big Neva toward the main part of the city, where
most of the major tourist attractionsNevsky Prospekt, the
Hermitage, fancy hotels, other museums and monuments
glittered in the winter sun. Laura prepared to cross the Little
Neva to Petrovsky Island, where their dorma special dorm
for foreignersstood apart from the main university campus,
keeping the foreign students and their bad Western influence
safely isolated from the rest of the kids.
At the midpoint of the bridge, when it was too late to turn
back, there they were: two gypsy women carrying baby-shaped
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She pulled off her gloves and dug into the pockets of her
heavy sheepskin coat, but they were empty. She hadnt brought
any money with her. Forgive me, she said, struggling to find
the Russian words under the stress of the moment. No money.
Nothing.
The women stood in front of her, blocking her passage across
the bridge. Their eyes flashed angrily. By stopping, shed raised
their hopes for a handout, and now they wanted the payoff.
You have it. Give it to us!
Laura shook her head emphatically, hoping theyd understand. Im sorry. I dont. She stepped to the side, and they
closed in on her.
Please! The English words burst out of her involuntarily.
Ill bring something next time!
She pushed past them, not too hard for fear that those bundles might hold real babies after all, and started to run, awkward
and bumbling in her bulky coat and boots, slipping on the icy
surface of the bridge. The gypsy women chased her, quicker and
nimbler than she was. They managed to get in front of her
again, waving those swaddled bundles as if they might swat
her with them, in a way that definitely suggested there werent
any babies inside.
Give it to us! One woman grabbed at Lauras book bag,
tearing it open and reaching inside. The other stuffed her
hands in Lauras pockets, pulling out a Kleenex and tossing it
down in frustration.
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