Page 113 - Devil's Arithmetic by Jane Yolen

ing horn had stopped. Others in the barracks were per-
forming the same slow unfolding. She looked around,
her eyes and mind still fuzzed with sleep.
The door to the barracks was flung open and a guard
stuck his head in. •
"If you want food, get in line. Now. Schnell. You
must eat. Hungry Jews are dead Jews. Dead Jews do
not work."
"Food!" Hannah whispered to herself, and the dream
she'd had came back to her: all that Seder food and the
familiar faces around the table, faces she could almost—
but not quite—name. She imagined the taste of the
roast beef and saliva filled her mouth. Standing, she
smoothed down the wrinkled skirt of her dress and
looked around for Gitl.
Gitl was bending over one of the lowest shelves. Han-
nah recognized her by the awful red print dress. Hur-
rying over, Hannah called out, "Food, Gitl! They'll give
us food. If we hurry. At last!"
Gitl stood up slowly and stared past Hannah to the
door as if she did not see her. Her mouth whispered
something but no sound came out, and her hands clenched
and unclenched into fists.
Something forced Hannah to bend down and stare
into the shelf. Little Tzipporah lay curled in a ball, her
finger in her mouth like a stopper in a bottle. There
was a fly on her cheek. Hannah reached out to brush
it off.
"Do not touch her," Gitl said.
"But . . " Hannah's hand hovered over the child's
.
cheek and the fly that would not leave.

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