Around and around the table we go.

Aunt Miriam helps little Henriette clap time for us.

The soldiers are scary, the alley is dirty, my cousins' apartment is dark and crowded.

But when we're together, nothing can stop us from having fun.

Henriette Melczak, almost three years old.

Angels and Demons.

One Thursday, my boy cousins aren't home.

Sarah whispers that they have gone swimming, even though it's forbidden!

"Can you girls take Henriette for a walk?"

Aunt Miriam asks Sarah and me.

But where can we go?

Parks, cafes, and museums are forbidden to Jews too.

So we just wander along the main street.

We look in all the shop windows.

"Let's play a game," says Sarah.

"We can each choose one thing from every window ...

but only one!"

We've played this game before.

It's like shopping but without money.

Our favorite place is the chandelier shop.

So many shiny lights, glittering with diamonds!

Henriette wants them all.

"Don't be silly, Henriette," says Sarah.

"How could we fit all those lamps over one table?"

When we reach the doll hospital, Henriette studies ladies, babies, clowns, and sailor dolls.

Then she frowns.

"What if you don't come back right away for your doll?

Will the doll doctor give it to someone else?"

"Never," says Sarah.

"The doctor knows everyone must have her own doll."

Henriette nods.

But soon she grows thirsty and begins to whine.

We go to a cafe and ask for water.

The barman stares at our stars and says nothing.

Sarah puts money on the bar.

"I don't sell water," says the barman.

"Go away. I can't serve you."

Henriette starts to cry.

We don't know what to do.

We know Jews must never make a fuss.

When we pass a small basement library, Sarah thinks of a way to stop her sister's crying.

"Look," she says to me, "you and I are wearing the star.

But Henriette isn't.

If she were alone, they couldn't tell she's Jewish.

They'd let her in."

"You can't leave her alone!" I say.

"Of course not," says Sarah.

"Just watch, you'll see."

Henriette peers through the library window.

"You go down first, Henriette," says Sarah.

"The librarian will see you are alone and ask you questions.

Don't answer right away.

She'll try to make you feel good, show you picture books.

Maybe she'll offer you a drink.

When she's busy with you, Odette and I will come down."

Clutching the handrail, chubby little Henriette walks down to the library, all by herself.

Sarah and I wait a few minutes, then go down the steps into the library too.

The librarian spots our yellow stars.

She drops the book she's showing to Henriette.

Sarah picks it up and hands it to her.

"Are you her mother?" the librarian asks Sarah.

My cousin's big for thirteen.

"No," says Sarah, "I'm her sister.

I thought I lost her ...

but I know how much she loves books.

I thought she might be here.

And she is!"

Henriette gazes up at her big sister like an innocent angel.

"Sarah, will you read to me?" she asks.

"Please?"

The librarian's eyes dart around quickly.

No one has seen us, or our yellow stars.

"All right," she says.

She flutters her hands toward the picture-book corner.

"Take the children over there and stay there.

I'll be at my desk."

"You're so kind," says Sarah.

Open books cover our stars like shields.

Henriette forgets she is thirsty.

The librarian, our gatekeeper, pretends we are children like any others.

All afternoon, we read fairy tales.

In our cave of bookshelves, we feel safe from the evil giants marching down the street.

Lies.

Someone's crying.

The sound of it pulls me from my dreams.

I open my eyes.

It's still dark.

I go to the window and push open one shutter, just a crack.

I look down and see little one-armed Noe.

His mother, Leah, helps him put on his jacket.

Rumpled people are being herded down the street.

They all carry bags and bundles.

A bearded man stumbles and a policeman pushes him along.

All the people are "yellow star" people.