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simple cross was not just jewellery and it was not only a symbol of my beliefs. It was all that I had left of my parents. But it also showed that I wasn’t Jewish. Should I give this to Zenia? Could I bear to part with it? But Zenia had so much more to lose. I had no choice. I had to give it to her.
    I took it off, held it to my lips and kissed it goodbye.Then I pressed it into Zenia’s palm. “Wear this.”
    Her eyes filled with tears but she said nothing. I tried to understand what she must be thinking — that wearing the cross was like denying her family, denying the religion her parents had died for. But she had to blend in. And she needed a reason to live.
    “If you don’t live, who will tell your story when the war is over?” I asked her.
    Her eyes met mine. She looked back down at the crucifix and her eyebrows knitted in thought. Another minute passed. Then she sighed and her eyes met mine. “You’re right.” She slipped the leather necklace that held my crucifix over her head. “Thank you.”

Chapter Five
Work
    Somehow I slept. In the background of my dreams I could hear the incessant bang-bang-bang-boom of British airplanes targeting a nearby city with a blanket of bombs. They were so close I could feel my bunk tremble.
    Memories of scents and tastes crowded out the bombs — lilac blossoms, vanilla pudding, wormy turnip soup. A flash of Larissa: fear in her eyes and her arms outstretched. “Lida, please don’t leave me!” I tried to grab her but she was just a dream. All too soon the morning whistle shrilled and I tumbled out of my bunk.
    We were given half an hour to get up, tidy our beds, use the bathroom and wash in the cold water. The warden herded us to the Kantine, where we were each given a triangle of black bread the size of my palm and a tinful of coloured water the cook called tea.
    I sat between Zenia and Kataryna at one of the long wooden tables and pulled a chunk of bread off my ration and put it in my mouth. It had an odd woody taste, unlikeany bread I had ever eaten, but I was starving so I chewed it slowly, washing it down with sips of the brown liquid.
    Zenia bit off a piece of her bread and chewed thoughtfully. “This is made of sawdust.”
    When we were finished, we took our bowls, cups and spoons with us and the warden herded us back out into the open area.
    “Stand at attention,” she said.
    We weren’t the only prisoners. I recognized a person here and there who had been served a bowl of Russian slop the night before. I also saw Luka in one of the rows ahead of me. He stood with the boys from our cattle car, looking as dazed and exhausted as I felt. They each had OST badges stitched onto their clothing. He turned and caught my eye for a brief moment. I nodded my head slightly. He winked, then turned back around.
    The warden made us stand at attention for what seemed like an hour, but finally the door of the main building opened and that same officer from the day before stepped out. He held a stack of forms in his hands. Behind him was a man in civilian clothing. He carried a tripod and had a camera strapped around his neck.
    “If I call your name, step forward.” He read out names from the forms.
    From our barracks he called Daria, Katya and Olesia. A few boys from our cattle car were also identified.
    “You are all under twelve,” he said in a firm clear voice. “You will not be required to work.”
    I glanced over and caught Olesia’s eye. She gave me a faint smile. I think she was glad now that she had given her true age.
    He looked up from his forms and studied our pathetic group. “Is there anyone under twelve here that I have missed?”
    I tried to make myself stand tall, hoping it made me look older. I did not want to be caught in my lie. Besides, I remembered what that woman had whispered to us as she shoved the pail of soup into our cattle car. Be useful or they will kill you …
    Kataryna Pich stood not far away from me. I didn’t want to look at her, but