I showed her the stone.

"It's so sparkly. I think Liale would like it. Maybe you could give it to me."

"No, it was a present. I think I better hold on to it for a while," I said.

Mother sat down next to me.

"Did you see the present Lina's boyfriend gave her?" asked Janina.

"He's not my boyfriend."

Was he my boyfriend? I wanted him to be my boyfriend. I showed Mother the stone.

"I see it made its way back to you," she said. "That's good luck."

"My dolly's dead," announced Janina. "She's in heaven."

Mother nodded and patted Janina's arm.

"Someone shut that kid up," said the bald man. "You, the tall one. What do you know of the war?"

"The Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, they bombed," said the man.

"Pearl Harbor? They bombed America?" said Mrs. Rimas.

"When?" asked the bald man.

"Months ago. Around Christmas, yes, Christmas." He repeated his words, a nervous tic.

"So the United States has declared war on Japan?" asked Mother.

"Yes, along with Britain. Britain has also declared war."

"Where did you come from?" asked the bald man.

"Lithuania," said the man.

"I know that, idiot. Where did you come from today?"

"Kalmanka," said the man. "Yes, Kalmanka."

"Kalmanka, eh? Was it a prison or a camp?" asked the bald man.

"A camp, hmm, a camp. A potato farm. You?"

"A beet farm near Turaciak," replied Mother. "Were there all Lithuanians in your camp?"

"No, mostly Latvians," said the man. "And Finns. Yes, Finns."

Finns. I had forgotten about Finland. I remembered the night Dr. Seltzer came to the house looking for Papa. The Soviets had invaded Finland.

"It's only thirty kilometers from Leningrad, Elena," Dr. Seltzer had told Mother. "Stalin wants to protect himself from the West."

"Will the Finns negotiate?" asked Mother.

"The Finns are strong people. They'll fight," said Dr. Seltzer.

64.

THE TRAIN CHURNED forward. The rhythm of the rails tormented me, screeching and banging. They pulled me away from Andrius, further into an unknown. The metal lamp swayed above like a pendulum, illuminating hollow faces, throwing shadows throughout the carriage. Janina whispered to the ghost of her dead doll, giggling.

The yellow girl hacked and wheezed next to Jonas. She spit up blood all over his back. Mother snatched Jonas off the plank. She tore off his shirt and threw it down the bathroom hole. It didn't seem necessary. We were all breathing the same air as the yellow girl. Phlegm and blood on a shirt couldn't be any more contagious.

"I'm so sorry," sobbed the girl. "I've ruined your shirt."

"It's okay," said Jonas, hugging his naked torso. His scurvy spots hadn't entirely disappeared. Pink blotches dotted his emaciated rib cage.

The tall man, the repeater, spoke sprightly, convinced of America, America. I wasn't convinced of anything, except my yearning to see Papa, Andrius, and home.

On the third night, I woke up. Something tapped on my chest. I opened my eyes. Janina's face hovered above mine, her eyes wide. The light swung back and forth behind her head.

"Janina? What is it?"

"It's Liale."

"Tell Liale it's time to sleep," I said, closing my eyes.

"She can't sleep. She says the yellow girl is dead."

"What?"

"Liale says she's dead. Can you check if her eyes are open? I'm scared to look."

I pulled Janina against me, laying her head on my chest. "Shh. Go to sleep." She trembled in my arms. I listened. The coughing had stopped. "Shh. Time to sleep, Janina." I rocked her gently.

I thought of Andrius. What was he doing back at the camp? Had he looked at my drawings? I reached into my pocket and wrapped my fingers around the stone. I saw him smiling, tugging my hat in the ration line.

The yellow girl was dead. Streaks of dried blood ran from the corners of her mouth to her chin. The next day, the guards dragged her stiff body out of the train. Her mother jumped down after her, crying. A gunshot fired. A thud hit the dirt. A grieving mother was an annoyance.

Ulyushka, the woman I despised, kept us alive on the train. We lived off the food she had given Mother. We shared it with others. I drew Ulyushka's wide face and stalks of black hair, trying to steady my hand through the train's vibration.

No one refused the water or gray slop in the buckets. We ate greedily, licking our palms and sucking under our dirty fingernails. Janina's mother slept often. I could barely sleep even though I was exhausted. The noise and movement from the train kept me awake. I sat, wondering where they were taking us and how I would let Papa know.

Janina tapped the bald man on the shoulder. "I heard you're a Jew," she said.

"That's what you heard, eh?" said the bald man.

"Is it true?" asked Janina.

"Yes. I heard you're a little brat, is that true?"

Janina paused, thinking. "No, I don't think so. Did you know Hitler and the Nazis might kill the Jews? My mama said that."

"Your mother's wrong. Hitler is killing the Jews."

"But why?" asked Jonas.

"The Jews are the scapegoat for all of Germany's problems," said the bald man. "Hitler's convinced racial purity is the answer. It's too complicated for children to understand."

"So you're here with us, rather than with the Nazis?" asked Jonas.

"You think I'd choose this? Under Hitler or Stalin, this war will end us all. Lithuania is caught in the middle. You heard the man. The Japanese have bombed Pearl Harbor. The United States may already be allied with the Soviets. Enough talk. Be quiet," said the bald man.

"We're going to America," said the repeater. "America."

65.

AFTER A WEEK, the train stopped late at night. Mrs. Rimas said she saw a sign that said Makarov. They herded us out of the carriages. The open air swirled around my face, clean, fresh. I breathed in through my nose and exhaled through my dry lips. The guards directed us toward a large building four hundred yards away. We dragged our filthy belongings from the train. Mother collapsed in the dirt.

"Lift her, quickly," said Mrs. Rimas, looking around for the guards. "If they would shoot a grieving mother, they might shoot a woman with loose legs."

"I'll be fine. I'm just tired," said Mother. Mrs. Rimas and I helped Mother walk. Jonas dragged our suitcases. Mother stumbled again near the building.

"Davai!" Two NKVD approached, clutching rifles. Mother wasn't moving fast enough.

They marched toward us. Mother straightened up. One of the NKVD spit in the dirt. The other looked at her. My stomach dropped. Kretzsky. He had traveled with us.

"Nikolai," Mother said weakly.

Kretzsky pointed in another direction. He marched away toward a group of people.

The building felt large, like an enormous barn. There must have been a thousand of us. We were too tired to speak. We fell to the ground on our belongings. My muscles released their clench. The stillness of the ground felt wonderful, as if a hand had stopped a metronome. The screeching of the rails had finally ended. I put my arm around my suitcase, hugging Dombey and Son. It was quiet. We lay in our rags and slept.

Morning broke. I felt Janina breathing, nestled against my back. Jonas sat on top of his suitcase. He nodded at me. I looked at Mother. She slept soundly, her face and arms on her suitcase.

"She called him Nikolai," said Jonas.

"What?" I asked.

Jonas began pacing. "Kretzsky. Did you hear her? Last night, she called him Nikolai."

"Is that his first name?" I asked.

"Exactly. I don't know. How does she know?" snapped Jonas. "Why did he come with us?" Jonas kicked at the dirt.

The NKVD arrived with bread and buckets of mushroom soup. We woke Mother and dug in our bags for a cup or a dish.

"They are preparing us, preparing," said the repeater. "We shall feast every day in America. Every day."

"Why are they feeding us?" I asked.

"To strengthen us for work," said Jonas.

"Eat every last bit," instructed Mother.

After the meal, the guards began rounding up groups. Mother strained to hear.

She laughed weakly. "We're going to bathe. We'll be able to bathe!"

We scurried toward a large wooden bathhouse. Mother's stride had steadied. We were divided at the gate into male and female groups.

"Wait for us," Mother told Jonas.

We were instructed to take off our clothes and give them to Siberian men working at the door. All modesty dissolved. The women quickly undressed. They wanted to be clean. I looked down, hesitating.

"Hurry, Lina!"

I didn't want them to touch me, to look at me. My arms folded over my breasts.

Mother spoke to one of the men. "He says we must hurry, that this is a travel stop. A large group is coming later today. He says that Latvians, Estonians, and Ukranians have already passed through," said Mother. "It's okay, darling, really."

The men didn't seem to be paying any attention. Of course not. Our shrunken bodies appeared almost androgynous. I hadn't had a period in months. Nothing about me felt feminine. A piece of pork or a foamy beer would be more alluring to men.

After our showers, we were put on a truck with our belongings. They drove us several kilometers through the woods until we arrived at the bank of the Angara River.

"Why are we here?" asked Jonas.

Large wooden sheds dotted the bank. Tucked near the trees was a large NKVD building.

"They're putting us on boats. Don't you see? We're going to America. America!" said the repeater. "We're traveling up the Angara to the Lena and then across the sea to the Bering Strait. The Bering Strait."

"That journey would take months," said the man who wound his watch.

America? How could we leave Papa behind in a prison in Krasnoyarsk? How would I get my drawings to him? And what about the war? What if other countries became allies with Stalin? I saw Andrius's face, when he told me we were on the list. Something about his expression told me we weren't going to America.