“And England also? You were in England?” Yoni nodded. Ella handed him back his passport and reached behind her back to let down her hair. Her curls fell out and hid the earrings he had given her. “I don’t see why you couldn’t have waited,” she wanted to tell her brother. She was angry with him for not waiting to go abroad until after the army, but she couldn’t say anything. She looked aimlessly out to the sea. The wind and spray came at her. There was a masked splash, but the scream was unmistakable. They both leapt up to keep from getting wet; Yoni was tense. He was the closest. The little boy with the ball had run off the edge and hit his head. Below them the brown skinned boy was floating unconscious in the foam being smashed against the shallow rocks with every white-capped wave that rolled through and slowly drifting out to sea. Ella shivered as her brother leapt towards the water. The boy’s mother was running across the field. Everyone was yelling, but Yoni was there. He was almost there. He lay on his stomach across a rock. Another wave crashed over his head, but he held on tight. In a minute, they saw him drenched, spitting salt water and gasping for air. He had caught the boy in his arms in the wake of the undertow. Now two other men were carefully climbing down to help. The shawl wrapped mother screamed 54
in Arabic for her boy. Her little boy! Yoni only managed to pass the bloodied unconscious child to men on the rocks moments before another wave crashed over his head. He bobbed up again and found his grip. He even tried to grab the blue ball that had floated near him in the tide, but he knew to reach for the hand instead. The second man grabbed hold and pulled hard. The two of them stumbled onto shore. Sopping wet and salty, suddenly Yoni looked scared. He looked at his sister, and he looked at the boy. He heard the ambulance and the police sirens coming. He saw two soldiers hurrying toward the rocks, and he glanced again at his sister. Ella knew he was going to run.