Page 37 - Devil's Arithmetic by Jane Yolen

turned to Hannah. "Come, Chaya, help me set the
table. We must eat and get to bed early. Tomorrow
there is much to do."

Hannah was silent through the dinner, fully expecting
the food to fade away at her touch. She was surprised
when it tasted real, not like dream food should have
tasted, but she ate little of it, much to GitPs annoyance.
"And how, my brother, do we put weight on those
bones when she doesn't eat?"
Shmuel shrugged and didn't answer.
Hannah was silent as well when they led her into the
room she apparently shared with Gitl. The whole house-
hold seemed so reasonable, she had to keep reminding
herself it was all a stage setting in some kind of elaborate
dream. Again and again she tried to pinch herself awake.
All she got for it were sore spots on her arm.
At last, when she climbed into the hard little bed they
insisted was hers, wearing a cotton nightshift that was,
also, somehow her own, and Gitl had drawn up the
puffy goosedown comforter over her, Hannah let out
a long sigh. It was a lot like one of her mother's sighs,
and she bit her lip remembering. If she tried hard, she
thought she might even remember her mother's smell,
a combination of face powder and Chanel Number
Five.
"Poor little bird," Gitl said, smoothing Hannah's hair
and touching her cheek. She smelled of soap with an
underlining of onion. "Do you miss them still so
much?"
Hannah nodded. "My mother," she said. "And my

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