Page 95 - Devil's Arithmetic by Jane Yolen

Shmuel to his feet. The children were torn from Yitz-
chak's arms and shoved toward the women's group.
Little Reuven began to whimper, but the girl, Tzip-
porah, was silent.
It was Gitl who pulled Fayge up. Fayge looked dazed.
Tears ran down her dirty cheeks, leaving gray runnels.
Hurrying over, Hannah offered to help.
"What can I do?" she asked.
"What can any of us do?" Fayge murmured.
"See, I was right," Hannah whispered to Gitl, "Why
didn't you believe me? I was right all along. We should
have run."
"Run," Fayge said, catching the last word, and re-
peated it in a soft, uninflected voice. "Run."
Gitl shook her head. "There is nowhere to run, Fayge.
We are where we are. Hush." Then she turned her head
and stared at the soldiers. "Monsters," she said, loud
enough for them to hear.

"You are zugangi, newcomers, the lowest of the low,"
the tall, dark-haired woman said to them as they hud-
dled in the stark barracks room. She was in a blue dress
with green piping and the short sleeves displayed a long
number tattooed on her arm.
"But, that number . . . then you are a prisoner, too,"
Hannah blurted out. She'd been thinking that they would
have to wear striped pajamas like the prisoners in the
old photographs, yet she'd seen no one dressed like that
in the camp yet. Maybe that meant her memories were
false ones. Maybe things wouldn't be as bad as she
feared.

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