Page 53 - Devil's Arithmetic by Jane Yolen

"You see, we have all been waiting to meet you,"
the startled-looking girl explained, the breathiness in
her voice more pronounced. "Ever since we heard you
were coming. Imagine, someone from Lublin living in
our shtetl. But Tante Gitl is so fierce. Do you know
my father calls her Gitl the Bear?"
"My father, too," one of the other girls said.
"She said we could not meet you until you had rested
because you had been so seriously ill. Almost died, she
said." The startled girl pulled each statement out as if
it were a rare gift to be examined, breathing deeply
after every sentence. "Ten weeks in the hospital, and
no one here knowing. But she promised we would meet
you. At the wedding. And here you are."
Hannah pulled a smile across her face in greeting.
At least the dream—or whatever it was—would be more
interesting with girls her own age in it.
"Now let me introduce you," the breathless girl said.
"This is Shifre, Esther, and Yente—but we call her the
Cossack!"
They each bobbed a head in turn.
"And I," she drew in a deep, heavy breath, "I am
Rachel. I am going to be your best friend."
"I already have a best friend," Hannah said. "At
home. Her name is Rosemary."
"What kind of a name is Rosemary?" asked one of
the girls. Hannah thought it might have been Shifre.
"It is a goyish name," Rachel said at once. "Do you
mean to say your best friend is not a Jew?"
"As a matter of fact, she's Catholic," Hannah said.
"As if that matters."

46