Kiki and Jacques Read Online Free Page A

bouncing through the snowy streets while they sang.
    It suddenly struck Jacques that after Mom died, they didn’t go caroling anymore. He never heard his father sing off-key again.
    Kiki wiped Amir’s chin and put the bottle away. “I am guessing that you like Messi. Am I correct? Are you a fan?”
    â€œWhat?” Jacques blinked.
    â€œMessi, you know—the soccer star.”
    â€œHe’s okay . . . I guess.” Jacques wondered whether Kiki could possibly know that he had three posters of Messi on his walls at home. “Why are you asking?”
    â€œMohamed says you are the best on the team,” Kiki replied. “You will be the captain, for sure, he says.”
    â€œYour brother told you that?”
    â€œNo.” Kiki smiled. “I heard him say it to my uncle.”
    Jacques dug his sneaker into a rut in the pavement. “Do you play?”
    Kiki hesitated before answering. “In my family, girls are not supposed to play soccer like that, not really. Some girls do, but my father, he was very strict.”
    â€œYou can try this out if you want to.” Jacques tapped the ball in front of her.
    â€œI don’t know. . . . If Mohamed catch me, he would be angry!” Kiki squinted as she gazed past the swing set toward the edge of the playground. “My brother is not even one year older, but he watches me now as if he is the father.”
    â€œIt’s really okay, there’s nobody around,” Jacques replied.
    Kiki cocked her head, pursing her lips. She still had Amir in her lap, burping as he shook the bottle.
    â€œI can hold him.” Jacques remembered how Mom used to sing and play clapping games with the babies that came into the bridal shop. He put his hands out toward Amir; it couldn’t be that hard.
    â€œI should not . . .” Kiki began, but suddenly Amir decided for them. He lunged forward, and Jacques instinctively squatted and caught him. Jacques whistled and made clucking sounds. To his amazement, Amir began to coo.
    â€œIt’s no big deal, go ahead.”
    Kiki stood on tiptoes, shielding her dark eyes as she carefully scanned the park. Then she concentrated on the ball for a minute, taking aim. She was only wearing leather sandals, but with a firm smack, the ball soared straight and sure to the other end of the playground.
    â€œHey, your sister’s not bad!” Jacques whispered to Amir. The baby pulled on Jacques’s nose and bounced.
    Every time Kiki kicked the ball, she stopped to look over her shoulder, craning her neck to search the fourcorners of the park. Finally, a calm look came over her face. She ran straight ahead, whacking the ball hard, pivoting and driving it forward. When Kiki jogged back, she was panting, but the gap between her teeth showed through a broad smile.
    â€œYou’re good! You should go out for the girls’ team.”
    â€œNo.” Kiki beamed. “This is not true. I am no good at soccer, and my English is terrible too.”
    â€œYou speak really well! How’d you learn?” Jacques asked.
    Kiki sat and rubbed her foot. “When we left my country, we came first to a place near Atlanta. We stayed there almost a year, and I had a good teacher.”
    â€œWhat was her name?”
    â€œHer name was Kiki.”
    â€œSeriously?” Jacques looked up.
    â€œIn Somalia, it was not always safe to go to school, and I had to help at home. When we got to America, I was behind in every subject. My teacher’s family came from Africa. She understood my situation and was very kind to me. Now I like to remember her, so I use the nickname.” Kiki smiled. “It makes things easier, you know?”
    â€œI get it,” Jacques replied. “I was named after my grandfather—but sometimes, kids just call me Jack.”
    â€œHey, you are not too bad with babies.” Amir was resting his head on Jacques’s shoulder. Kiki