Page 134 - Devil's Arithmetic by Jane Yolen

It was on the third day in the camp that Commandant
Breuer came again, this time—word was whispered
around the camp—for a Choosing.
His black car drove right up the middle of the camp,
between the rows of barracks, the flag on the aerial
snapping merrily. The driver got out, opened the rear
door, and stood at attention.
"What is a Choosing?" Hannah asked Rivka out of
the side of her mouth as they waited beside the cauld-
rons they were cleaning. She didn't know why, but she
could feel sweat running down her dress, even though
it was a cool day, as if her body knew something it
wasn't telling her mind.
There was no movement from the midden pile, where
the bright shorts and blouses of the children marked
their passage. The commandant strode past without giv-
ing the dump a glance.
Rivka hissed Hannah quiet and ran a finger across
her own throat, the same signal that the peasants had
made in the fields when the cattle cars passed them by.
Hannah knew that signal. She just didn't know what it
meant . . exactly. She shivered.
.
The commandant was a small, handsome man, so
Clean-shaven his face seemed burnished. His cheek-
bones had a sharp edge and there was a cleft in his chin.
He stopped for a moment in front of Hannah, Rivka,
and Shifre. Hannah felt sweat run down her sides.
The commandant smiled, pinched Rivka's cheek, then
went on. Behind him was a man with a clipboard and
a piece of paper. They walked without stopping again,

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