Pickpocket Page 6

  As she hands it to me, she leans in. “Don’t worry,” she says. “Your petite amie will be fine.”

  My petite amie? She means Selina. But Selina isn’t my girlfriend!

  Still, I’m glad Henri told Clara the truth—even though Clara got some of the details wrong.

  “Merci, Clara.” I tuck the socca into my backpack. Next I buy sausage, cheese and a baguette. Then I start walking.

  I pass the port, where the cruise ships are pulling in. Then I step onto the winding path. It’s carved out of the jagged rocks above the sea. Benches and flat spaces have also been cut into them. People are lying there—the sun beating down on them as they talk and eat their picnic food.

  While I walk, I think back to when I first came to Nice. I’d thought summer would drag on forever. But next week I’m going home to Canada. I’ll miss Henri and my new friends.

  As for getting the money I need to pay back my parents, it hasn’t happened. Other than buying the necklace for my mom, I gave most of what I earned to Selina. I’ll probably need a part-time job while I finish high school.

  When the path ends in front of me, I take the long staircase up to the street. I can soon see the beach up ahead. I walk for another ten minutes.

  My mind soon turns back to Selina. When I was planning her escape, I didn’t think about what would come after. About how tough it would be not knowing how she’s doing. That will make it extra hard to leave Nice. I don’t think I’ll ever stop wondering if she’s safe.

  Just then a guy about my age nearly runs over me.

  “Oh no! Désolé!” he cries as a frisbee clips me in the shoulder.

  “No worries,” I say. I toss the frisbee back to him.

  “What a bad catch, Paul!” one of his friends calls.

  Paul and his friends keep tossing the frisbee around. Every so often, they throw it to me too. They’ve drawn me into their group on this perfect little beach.

  Their joking around takes me back to the days I spent with my old friends. To the kids I used to hang out with before Tate and Owen. I still remember what Papa said about Colin and Anisha.

  I can’t believe the way they ditched Jean-Luc after Lena took sick.

  I didn’t admit this to Papa or anyone else, but Colin and Anisha didn’t ditch me. I just let my parents think that. It was easier than trying to explain what actually happened. That in those awful days after Lena died, I couldn’t stand the sadness on their faces when they looked at me. They didn’t know what to say to me. And I didn’t know what I wanted them to say.

  So I didn’t answer their texts. I switched classes and completely avoided them. On those days when getting out of bed felt too heavy and sad to manage, that was all I could think to do. But now, with the laughter coming from the group around me, I’m thinking that wasn’t the best idea.

  Then I start to wonder something else. Whether maybe Tate and Owen actually did me a favor by ditching me this summer. I think they probably did.

  With the frisbee soaring back and forth, I decide something. I’m going to get in touch with Colin and Anisha once I get home. It’ll be awkward at first. But I’ll tell them I’m sorry and that I was a jerk for ditching them after Lena died. I think they’ll understand.

  My new friend Paul drops the frisbee onto the beach. “I’m starving,” he says.

  All his buddies pull out some food and place it on a blanket. When they motion for me to join them, I add my stuff from the market. The socca is a bit soggy from being wrapped up. Everyone tells me it tastes amazing though. They smile extra widely when I tell them I helped make it.

  Later, when everyone else packs up, I stand up to leave too.

  “À la prochaine,” Paul says. Till next time.

  I wave, then start walking back to Old Nice. I follow the same winding trail along the sea—taking in the blue, blue sky and the salty air. After I pass through the gates to the old city, I go straight to Henri’s apartment.

  “Bonjour,” I call from the door.

  “Bonjour,” Henri says. He hands me an envelope. “For you. This arrived in the mail today. It was sent to Chez Rosa.”

  I don’t recognize the writing. But when I rip into the envelope, a photo slips out.

  It’s the picture of Lena and me. The photo from my wallet!

  Selina must have sent this!

  The photo looks more frayed and weathered than ever. I turn it over and see some writing on the back.

  “Merci. Ça va bien.” Thank you. All is well.

  So she’s okay. Selina is really okay. Suddenly a weight I didn’t even know I was carrying lifts off my shoulders and chest. Tears stream down my face.

  One thing is for sure. Selina did the hard work to make this happen. She took a chance on having a better life. She went for it. I am just glad I was able to give her a little nudge.

  I realize Henri is staring at me, waiting to be filled in. I hand him the photo. He reads what’s on the back of it. A smile covers his face.

  “Bien. I have a question for you, Jean-Luc,” Henri says. “I made an inquiry of an old friend here in Nice. A police officer who believes in this city, as I do. I asked Julien if he has heard of anyone forcing young people to become pickpockets.

  “Julien had heard of this,” Henri continues. “But the police have very little information. I said I might have some later. But that I first needed to know a certain young person was safe.”

  I realize what Henri is asking me. He wants me to tell the police about Le Patron. I know how fiercely proud Henri is of Old Nice. And I understand why. I have become very fond of this place too.

  “Oui,” I say.

  I realize something else. It’s time for me to make some changes. I need to do what Selina has done. I need to step forward into a new, better life. A life that includes friends who are actually friends.

  And, hopefully, a life that includes more visits to Old Nice. To where the sun sparkles off the sea, and the sky is the bluest blue. And to where a young pickpocket helped me turn everything around—starting with the day she stole my wallet.

  Acknowledgments

  The first time I traveled to Old Nice, the apartment I rented was next to a socca shop called Chez Thérésa. Every day, Thérésa’s family made the socca in the wood-burning oven, then transported it by scooter to the market. The mouth-watering flatbread won me over right away. The sparkling Mediterranean Sea, the charming markets and the winding streets also captured my imagination. I soon began dreaming of writing a story based around a socca shop in Old Nice.

  Several years later, my editor at Orca—who clearly has a sixth sense about such things—asked me if I might like to write an adventure story set in France. I quickly agreed, even though I didn’t yet have a full story in mind. Soon I was returning to Old Nice, though, inspired to dig more deeply into my earlier ideas.

  Upon my arrival, various people warned me about pickpockets. I also did some research on child pickpocket rings operating elsewhere in France. Luckily for me, I returned to Canada with my wallet intact and my new story fully mapped out.

  Thank you to the generous people of Old Nice who answered my questions over morning cappuccinos and afternoon glasses of rosé. Marc from Marc de café was especially helpful, as were his regular lunch patrons. Thérésa kindly offered me tips for making socca. My thanks as well to the friendly cab driver who explained the difference between driving motorcycles and scooters—like Henri’s Vespa—throughout the old town.

  A warm thank you to the entire Orca team for all that they do. Many thanks also to my family. Our shared time and love of Old Nice make every experience there even more joyful.

  Special thanks to my husband, Ken, who snapped hundreds of research photos. His patience in tracing my characters’ steps with me was truly heroic. Without him, I would still be hopelessly lost on those confusing, narrow streets…which, now that I think of it, sounds rather magical.

  Karen Spafford-Fitz is the author of several novels for young people, including Unity Clu
b, Vanish and Dog Walker in the Orca Currents line. She lives in Edmonton.