Page 169 - Devil's Arithmetic by Jane Yolen

"Then come back to the table and shut the door,"
called out the other old man. "There's a draft. You
know your Aunt Rose gets these chills."
"Sam, don't hurry the child so. She's doing her part."
The woman who spoke' had a plain face lit up by a
special smile. "Come, sweetheart, sit by Aunt Eva."
She patted an empty chair next to her, then reached
over and picked up her glass of wine. "You look so
white, Hannahleh. Like death. How can we fix that?"
She raised her glass, looked at Hannah. "L'chaim. To
life." She took a sip.
Hannah slipped into the chair, knowing it was the
one the family reserved for the prophet Elijah, who
slipped through the centuries like a fish through water.
She watched all the grown-ups raise their glasses.
"L'chaim."
Aunt Eva turned toward her, smiling. Her sweater
was pushed back beyond her wrist. As she raised the
glass again, Hannah noticed the number on her arm:
J18202.
"Hannahleh, you're staring," whispered Aunt Eva
as the talk began around the table: Uncle Sam arguing
about the price of new cars, Grandpa Will complaining
about the latest government scandal, her mother asking
Aunt Rose about a book.
"Staring?" She repeated the word without under-
standing.
"Yes, at my arm. At the number. Does it frighten
you still? You've never let me explain it to you and
your mother hates me to talk of it. Still, if you want
me to . . ."

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