The Klipfish Code Read Online Free Page A

At least there was one bright spot: her new friend, Hanna.
    The day they'd first met, Marit had been waiting on the pier with other islanders for the mail boat to arrive. Someone had tapped Marit on her shoulder and asked, "Where are
you
from?" Marit turned to discover a girl her own height, with shiny dark hair and a smile that revealed a slice of air between her front teeth.
    "Isfjorden," Marit replied.
    "My name's Hanna Brottem. What's yours?"
    "Marit Gundersen. I'm staying with my grandfather, Leif Halversen, and my aunt Ingeborg."
    "You mean Miss Halversen. She's going to be my teacher next fall."
    "Really? Oh, and this is my brother, Lars."
    Lars glanced away shyly, but his dimples deepened. "
Hei,
" he said, without meeting Hanna's eyes.
    Hanna told Marit about her family's new baby and two-year-old sister she looked after every day while her mother worked at the hospital in Ålesund. She pointed to a nearby red clapboard home facing the ocean. And Marit told Hanna about being bombed, how their cookstove had been blown partway through their kitchen wall, and how they hadn't been able to return home yet. That she wondered every day if her parents were all right.

    "That's terrible," Hanna said. "Much worse than no flour or sugar."
    "A lot worse."
    Hanna's eyebrows bunched over her tiny nose. "Then ... you're
refugees.
"
    Refugees.
The word had an edge to it, like a fence meant to divide those who belong from those who do not. Marit wasn't sure if this girl was making fun of her. What had she meant exactly? She bristled. "
Ja. I
guess so."
    Hanna touched her arm lightly. "That must be hard—to be separated like that from your home and parents."
    Marit could only nod. Whatever doubts Marit had about Hanna instantly vanished. She knew she'd made a good friend.
    ***
    As they waited for the mail boat to pull alongside the dock, Marit tapped her foot impatiently. Lars held
Marit's hand, and she let him. His small hand reminded her that he was only seven. Even at ten, she was having a terrible time being separated from Mama and Papa. More than once, she'd woken up from the same nightmare. Always, she was on a ship with her family and they were crossing the ocean, when out of nowhere, the legendary sea monster—the
kraken
—reached its terrible tentacles and suction cups around the ship and to the very top of the mast. Part crab, part octopus, it was enormous, and it finally found what it was looking for—Mama and Papa. It wrapped its slimy arms around their bodies and pulled them toward its pinching mouth, then sank out of sight, leaving a whirlpool behind. Marit clung to Lars as the ship twirled in dizzying circles, sucked slowly downward toward the bottom of the sea. That's when she usually woke up—terrified and sobbing.

    "
Hei,
Marit!" Hanna ran toward them, her braids whipping in the breeze. Marit dropped Lars's hand. "Hanna!"
    Soon after, the mail boat pulled up to the main dock.
    "What do you have for us today?" called Mr. Larsen, grabbing a line and tying it off. Owner of the general store, with a head of short sandy curls and matching beard, he was taller than most men on the island.
    "The usual," replied the captain. He tossed the leather mailbag to Mr. Larsen as a handful of passengers disembarked.
    "Do you have a letter from the Gundersens?" Marit asked Mr. Larsen, following him step by step to his shop.

    "Same answer, Marit. You'll have to wait—along with everyone else."
    A new sign in the window stated:
Out of potatoes. Don't know when we'll get them.
    Inside, the shop's shelves of food, household, and farm supplies seemed to dwindle every day. Mr. Larsen stood behind his counter and began pulling letters and parcels from the leather bag. Villagers crowded around. "Ivarsen!" he called out.
    "Here!" A young woman scurried forward, hand up.
    "Riste."
    "Over here." Marit recognized the fisherman who held his pipe in the air. He was a friend of Bestefar's.
    With each name that Mr. Larsen