Page 114 - Devil's Arithmetic by Jane Yolen

"I said: Do not touch her!" Gitl's voice was strangely
hoarse.
Hannah still reached toward the fly, unbelieving, and
Gitl grabbed her hand, spinning her around. She slapped
Hannah's face twice. "Do not," slap, "touch her," slap.
Then, as suddenly, she put her arms around Hannah
with such force, Hannah gasped. Gitl buried her face
against Hannah's shoulder, sobbing, "Yitzchak . . . what
.
.
will I say . . Tzipporah . . he must be told . . what
.
can I. . . monsters!"
It was all Hannah could do to free her arms enough
so that she could pat Gitl's shorn head, touching it with
as much tenderness as she could muster, while her cheeks
still burned from the unwarranted slaps.

They were the last ones out of the barracks. Even Fayge
had managed to get onto the proper food line before
them, with the help of one of the women from her
village. Emerging from the building, blinking into the
noon sun, Hannah saw that Gitl's eyes were dry but
they still held a reserve of some awful unspoken anger.
The, line moved quickly, silently. At the first table,
a girl handed them each a metal bowl..Plain-faced, with
a broad forehead and deep-set brown eyes, she greeted
them with a smile as if they were old friends. Hannah
guessed she couldn't have been more than ten years
old, yet her face seemed ageless.
"You must take good care of your bowl," the girl
said to them. It was obvious she had recited these same
words to each group of newcomers, yet her voice held
a sweetness and a patience quite out of keeping with

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