Students buzz noisily in the small classroom. I am sitting at my desk, roughly shuffling papers. My sleeves to my red polka-dot dress are rolled up as usual. I stand up and immediate silence follows. "Please take your seats," I say, flatly. My eyes dim.
Mr. Aleksander stands at the chalkboard. "We will not have class today," he says. "Instead, I will be handing out your report cards to give to your teachers at the next work camp." Students buzz loudly with anticipation as he quietly walks around. Being the oldest at 13 I went to the front where he was lecturing one of the students. "Will all of us be transported?" I asked. Mr. Aleksander waved the student away. "I'm afraid so, Patricia," he said in a solemn voice. He glanced around before adding. "Only two students won't. You, and Paulina. Paulina's parents will from what I've heard. She will have to work twice as hard being left alone or else she might be forced to hide somewhere in the camp. She's becoming dangerously weak."
Paulina sat in the back. Her red hair and green eyes were easy to find. Even in this huge camp. But you could tell. She was giving up.
Jonathan flicked a piece of paper across the room. My eyes became unclouded and an icy glare fell upon his mop of curly brown hair. "Jonathan!" I cried. "You pick that up this instant!" He rolled his eyes. As he bent over to get the little paper ball he glanced at my arm. "What's that?" he said, straightening up. My face hardened. "Throw that piece of paper away, young man," I said as I pulled my sleeves down over my arms. For the rest of the lesson he pretended to sharpen his pencil and throw away things, trying to get a look at my arm again.
"If you would get out you liquid pens, we are moving into Hebrew." The class groaned. "Now, now," I scolded. "You're lucky to be here, in Jewish school. Back when I was a teenager I wasn't allowed. I had to go to a lyceum." Jonathan's eyes shot away from my arm and onto my face. "Lucky?!" he screamed. "I'm really lucky! Because I'm Jewish I have no grandparents. They were both killed in the Holocaust!" My eyes watered. I stared into the back room, looking for comfort. But Paulina's eyes met mine. "No!" I yelled. "I'm sorry, Paulina!" She shook her head. She had a tablet in her hands where she scribbled something on it. "Paulina!" I cried, "Why don't you answer?" She got up from the desk in the back and walked toward me. I screamed and fell over. She ran out of the room, fear burning in her eyes. I cowered on the floor. I closed my eyes and tears ran down my face.
I walked away from Mr. Aleksander and to Paulina. She gently placed her cheek in her hand. Her face lit up when she saw me. "Transported?" she asked, "Like, to a concentration camp?" I shook my head. "Not us. We'll be left behind." Paulina let out a sigh of relief. I opened my mouth to tell her about her parents but couldn't do it. She waved good-bye and left the room. My. Aleksander dismissed me too and I started off to my afternoon job of peeling the carrots and potatoes in the kitchen barracks.
Throwing on an apron, I entered the barracks. A long line of tables awaited me. I sat down next to Ellen, my best friend from Warsaw. A carrot was placed in my hand and a potato in hers.
Potatoes. Potatoes. Carrots. Carrots. I left the building at 10:00 and sleepily walked home. Or, that's what Ellen called it. My eldest brother, John, called it junk.
-msof57
