Page 166 - Devil's Arithmetic by Jane Yolen

Hannah said nothing. The memories of Lublin and
the shtetl and. the camp itself suddenly seemed like the
dreams. She lived, had lived, would live in the future—
she, or someone with whom she shared memories. But
Rivka had only now.
Without thinking through the why of it, Hannah
snatched the kerchief off Rivka's head. "Run!" she
whispered. "Run to the midden, run to the barracks,
run to the kitchen. The guard is new. He won't know
the difference. One Jew is the same as another to him.
Run for your life, Rivka. Run for your future. Run.
Run. Run. And remember."
As she spoke, she shoved Rivka away, untied the
knot of the kerchief with trembling fingers, and retied
it about her own head. Then, as Rivka's footsteps faded
behind her, she walked purposefully, head high, after
Shifre and Esther.
When she caught up with them, she put her arms
around their waists as if they were three schoolgirls just
walking in the yard.
"Let me tell you a story," she said quietly, ignoring
the fact that they were both weeping, Shifre loudly and
Esther with short little gasps. "A story I know you both
will love."
The strength in her voice quieted them and they began
to listen even as they walked.
"It is about a girl. An ordinary sort of girl named
Hannah Stern who lives in New Rochelle. Not Old
Rochelle. There is no Old Rochelle, you see. Just New
Rochelle. It is in an America where pictures come across

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