Page 132 - Devil's Arithmetic by Jane Yolen

in the sorting sheds, stacking the clothing and suitcases
and possessions stolen from the prisoners, dividing them
into piles to be sent back to Germany.
Still, Hannah was glad of the routine. As long as she
knew what to expect, she wasn't frightened. What was
more frightening was the unknown: the occasional corpse
hanging on the gate without an explanation, the swift
kick by the blokova for no reason.
She and Shifre were set to work with Rivka in the
kitchen hauling water in large buckets from the pump,
spooning out the meager meals, washing the giant
cauldrons in which the soup cooked, scrubbing the walls
and floors. It was hard work, harder than Hannah could
ever remember doing. Her hands and knees held no
memory of such work. It was endless. And repetitive.
But it was not without its rewards. Occasionally they
were able to scrape out an extra bit of food for them-
selves and the little ones while cleaning the pots, burned
pieces of potatoes that had stuck to the bottom. Even
burned pieces tasted wonderful, better even than beef.
She thought she remembered beef.
"SJae gave the blokova a gold ring she organized to
get you in here," Leye explained, wiping her hands on
a rag and nodding her head in Rivka's direction. Leye
was the head of the kitchen crew; her arms were always
splotchy and stained. But it was a good job, for she
could keep her baby with her. "Otherwise that one . . ."
and she spit on the ground to show her disapproval of
the three-fingered woman, " . . . she would have had
you hauling wood with the men. And you would never
have lasted because you are a city girl. It is in your

125

^f