“If you are going to live with a Catholic family, first of all, you must give up your scarf.”
Hannah hesitated and looked at me with stormy eyes. It was all I could do not to stomp back up the stairs and leave her.
Slowly, she pulled off the scarf, and her dark hair dropped down around her shoulders.
“Good. Now, it’s best not to wear black stockings or boots. Here, switch with me.”
The girl did not move.
“I can’t do this,” she said.
“Hannah—”
“Three minutes left,” said the woman, standing at the door.
“You need to hurry,” I said.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Hannah said.
I stood and brushed my skirt. “Fine then. I’m leaving.”
“My boyfriend says I am dead to him for doing this.”
I sat back down. Boyfriends could be such trouble!
“You can’t base everything on a boy.”
“He hates me anyway, now. Says I am abandoning my parents.”
“Your parents want this, and your boyfriend will see it’s best.”
The woman stepped toward us. “Finish up, now.”
“They are only taking away the men,” Hannah said. “Maybe I am better off staying home—”
“It’s better to live with a new family than be sent off to work somewhere. Go through with the plan, and you can get food to them—”
“Impossible.”
“People do it all the time. For now, you must cheer up. No sad eyes. The SS look for that.”
She wiped her face and sat up straighter. A start! She was a pretty girl with a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
“Take my shoes. Quickly now.”
“Two minutes,” the woman said from the door.
“Oh, I couldn’t,” Hannah said.
“You must. Your boots are a dead giveaway. Switch with me.”
What if I was stopped? I had authentic papers, and Papa would help me no matter what. Hannah pulled down her dark hose and traded them for my white anklets. I took her boots—just a bit smaller than my shoes.
“There. Now turn around.” Fast as I could, I braided her dark hair in one fat plait down her back. “Unmarried Catholic girls wear one braid. Do you know the Lord’s Prayer?”
She nodded.
“Good. Learn the Polish national anthem too. They’re asking for that more now. And remember, if someone offers you vodka, no sipping. Take it in one gulp, or refuse it altogether.”
“It’s time,” the woman said.
I admired my handiwork.
A white Bible lay on the table. “That is a pretty Bible.” I handed it to her. “Just make sure you crack the binding. Make it seem used. And in church, genuflect like this, right knee to the floor, and make the sign of the cross”—I demonstrated—“so. No—the right hand. Yes. Just follow the others. And don’t chew the host. Let it melt in your mouth.”
She took hold of my arm. “Will I have to eat pork?”
“Just say you were sick once from it and can’t stand the sight—”
“Thank you,” Hannah said. “I have nothing to give you.”
“Iwona, please,” the woman said.
“Don’t worry about it. And above all, don’t fret. Your Polish is good as anyone’s. One last thing.” I unlatched my silver cross necklace and fastened it around her neck.
The girl looked down at her chest.
“This may be hard for you to wear, but every Catholic girl has one.”
Pietrik would understand.
I went to the door and stopped for one last look. Hannah stood, Bible in hand, looking much like any Catholic girl on her way to Sunday mass.
“It has been over five minutes,” the woman said. “Perhaps you should wait until dark?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said. Pietrik would be waiting.
I headed back upstairs, through the pharmacy, and out to the street. It felt good to be out in the fresh air, my job well done. That is my last assignment for a while, I thought as I headed for the cinema. A peek at my watch told me I would be early for my shift. My boss would be happy. All I wanted was to get there safely. Pietrik would be there if I needed help.
I made good progress, but before I was even out of Old Town, I felt someone following me. I bent to tie Hannah’s boot, the paper package crinkling in my sack, and glanced behind me. There was the brownshirt who’d seen me at Z’s, busy dispersing a group of young people. Had he seen me go into the basement? I shook off the bad thoughts and ran on.
I made it to the theater, five minutes early for my shift. The theater marquee read THE ETERNAL JEW. Once the theater had been requisitioned by the Nazis, all films were sent from Nazi headquarters, Under the Clock, and no Poles were allowed in, but just from the name we knew this film was Nazi propaganda. The line at the ticket booth was already forming, the German customers queued up, that expectant look of theatergoers on their faces. A new thing the Nazis had forced upon us was patriotic music, played via loudspeaker outside the theater. A loop of the “Horst Wessel Song,” the Nazi Party anthem, a dirge-like march, complete with trumpets, resounded across the cobblestone square all night long, even through the movie!
“The flag on high!” sang the German choir. “The ranks tightly closed! The SA marches with quiet, steady step.”
I slipped through the ticket booth door and caught my breath. It was a small room, barely the size of a small bathroom, and featured a paper-shaded ticket window and one high stool. Had anyone followed me? I flipped on the lights and touched the cashbox, cold and smooth, to calm myself. I would need to keep my wits about me, sort the money, and keep the window shade pulled down for now.
Where was Matka? She was due with the cheese sandwich she’d promised. As a former nurse, she’d been pressed into service in the Old Town Hospital. Why was she late this one time when I was starving? The smell of the German candy bars made me crazy with hunger.
I moved the shade aside and peeked out the ticket booth window. An electric jolt ran through me. Was it possible? The brownshirt who’d seen me at Z’s stood talking with two older Hausfrauen in the ticket line.
How glad I was to see Pietrik burst into the ticket booth and take his usual seat on the floor at my feet, under the window, back to the wall. His cheeks, flushed pink, made his eyes seem extra blue. Luiza, his little sister, was close behind. She slid her back down the wall to sit next to him. She was almost the complete opposite of Pietrik: While he had light eyes, hers were dark. He was serious. She laughed a lot. At fifteen, she was half his size.
“How did your trip to Z’s go?” he asked.
I sat high on the ticket taker’s stool and arranged my skirt to make the best presentation of my legs. “Well enough, with one loose end—”
He sent me a quick glance, a warning not to speak of it in front of Luiza.
“I’m searching for my greatest talent,” Luiza said. “What do you think it is, Kasia?”
Why did Luiza have to bring up the silliest subjects at such a time? I pulled the shade aside and checked the line out front. The brownshirt was still there, now in an animated conversation with two men. About me?
“I don’t know, Luiza,” I said. “You’re a good baker…”
“That’s something anyone can do. I want something unique.”
I looked outside again. Something was not right. Don’t be paranoid, I thought as I sorted the money and ran through my mental list:
Candy price cards set? Check.
Cashbox sorted? Check.
Now that our movie audience was mostly German, I needed to be extra organized, for my boss would hear a terrible ticking off of complaints about my smallest slipup.
Zuzanna came into the booth and shut the door behind her.
“Kasia, why are you so white?”
“Did you see a brownshirt out there?”
She tossed her bag in the corner. “That’s a fine hello. I’ve been in the country doctoring the sick in exchange for the eggs for your breakfast, dear sister.”
I pulled the shade aside, and there he was. He had moved on to speak with a young woman in line.
“I think he followed me. From Z’s. Leave. Now.” I turned to Pietrik. “You and Luiza too. If they find you here with me, they’ll take us all.”