teacher stood in front of a lined blackboard; she was pretty even though she wore pants. They must not tell Zalman aboutthe pants. Children’s paintings of blue stars on white paper were taped in a continuous frieze on the remaining two walls.
Mila and Atara were shown two empty desks in the back of the room. Some of the children turned their heads and smiled, others leaned close together and whispered.
Every morning, the girls’ eyes shone when they opened their
cahiers d’école
, notebooks with pages white, smooth, ruled and cross-ruled by pale blue lines. They dipped their new pens into the glass inkwell, how lovely it was to trace, meticulously, the new French words, the ascenders and descenders.
T HE TEACHER announced there would be a celebration of Israel’s Declaration of Independence. Mila looked up, to the frieze of blue stars. Her nib caught and scratched the paper, spitting a drop of ink on the white page. Once again, the two girls would be set apart. Mila flushed when she remembered that three times already Atara and she had been the designated robbers during recess. Their classmates’ war cries encircled them, and Atara and she cowered against each other, then fled inside the building where pupils were not allowed during recess. The pretty teacher came down the stairs in her pants. Atara and Mila lowered their eyes, ashamed to tell that their classmates ganged up on them. The teacher looked at them lengthily, at their long skirts, their thick stockings. Sheasked whether it was true that their father would not permit them to study for the baccalauréat, later. The girls answered they did not know, they did not know what the
bacca
—what it was.
Atara stared at the spot of ink on Mila’s page.
Mila whispered, “We must find out when the celebration will take place.”
“Quiet!” the teacher called.
If they could find out the exact day, surely Zalman and Hannah would let them stay home—Zalman would
want
them to stay home.
T HE BLUE Star of David fluttered in the bright May sky, above the classes assembled in the schoolyard. At a second-floor window, holding a megaphone, the principal gave an impassioned speech: There were lessons surviving Jews
must
learn from history and one such lesson was that powerlessness was not an option. The euphoric voice bounced out of the Zionist megaphone. “No longer
next
year but
this
year—
this
year in our new State of Israel!”
The yard roared. Teachers and students joined hands. A classmate reached for Atara’s hand, to invite the two girls in the giant round, but Mila and Atara shook their heads and pressed harder into the back wall, to meld into it, even as their eyes did not lift from the linked hands and stamping feet, even as their ears could not help but learn the most prohibitedof songs:
Our hope is not yet lost
,
to be a free nation in our land
.…
But boys and girls holding hands, singing together, dancing together, celebrating the End when the End had not come—all of it was forbidden.
Walking home, Mila and Atara were silent. All week, Mila could not look Zalman in the eyes. She begged God to examine her heart and see that she had not intended to force the End. She, Mila Heller, would wait, patiently, to be saved.
*
H ANNAH and Zalman hired Leah Bloch, a nineteen-year-old seminary graduate, to foil the traps of the impious école and give the girls additional instruction on modesty and religious observance. Pale, thin-lipped Leah Bloch, who fantasized that the new Hasidic family from afar was hers, instead of her own ordinary French family, explained that Mila and Atara must be proud of their lineage, of parents who were not dupes of the French
lumières
. She taught the girls to read Scripture the proper way—never the words of Scripture alone, but always accompanied by the revered commentators’ interpretations. She sang fervent, pious songs to counter the songs the girls were hearing in school. Every Sabbath afternoon, Leah Bloch and
Mila and Atara were shown two empty desks in the back of the room. Some of the children turned their heads and smiled, others leaned close together and whispered.
Every morning, the girls’ eyes shone when they opened their
cahiers d’école
, notebooks with pages white, smooth, ruled and cross-ruled by pale blue lines. They dipped their new pens into the glass inkwell, how lovely it was to trace, meticulously, the new French words, the ascenders and descenders.
T HE TEACHER announced there would be a celebration of Israel’s Declaration of Independence. Mila looked up, to the frieze of blue stars. Her nib caught and scratched the paper, spitting a drop of ink on the white page. Once again, the two girls would be set apart. Mila flushed when she remembered that three times already Atara and she had been the designated robbers during recess. Their classmates’ war cries encircled them, and Atara and she cowered against each other, then fled inside the building where pupils were not allowed during recess. The pretty teacher came down the stairs in her pants. Atara and Mila lowered their eyes, ashamed to tell that their classmates ganged up on them. The teacher looked at them lengthily, at their long skirts, their thick stockings. Sheasked whether it was true that their father would not permit them to study for the baccalauréat, later. The girls answered they did not know, they did not know what the
bacca
—what it was.
Atara stared at the spot of ink on Mila’s page.
Mila whispered, “We must find out when the celebration will take place.”
“Quiet!” the teacher called.
If they could find out the exact day, surely Zalman and Hannah would let them stay home—Zalman would
want
them to stay home.
T HE BLUE Star of David fluttered in the bright May sky, above the classes assembled in the schoolyard. At a second-floor window, holding a megaphone, the principal gave an impassioned speech: There were lessons surviving Jews
must
learn from history and one such lesson was that powerlessness was not an option. The euphoric voice bounced out of the Zionist megaphone. “No longer
next
year but
this
year—
this
year in our new State of Israel!”
The yard roared. Teachers and students joined hands. A classmate reached for Atara’s hand, to invite the two girls in the giant round, but Mila and Atara shook their heads and pressed harder into the back wall, to meld into it, even as their eyes did not lift from the linked hands and stamping feet, even as their ears could not help but learn the most prohibitedof songs:
Our hope is not yet lost
,
to be a free nation in our land
.…
But boys and girls holding hands, singing together, dancing together, celebrating the End when the End had not come—all of it was forbidden.
Walking home, Mila and Atara were silent. All week, Mila could not look Zalman in the eyes. She begged God to examine her heart and see that she had not intended to force the End. She, Mila Heller, would wait, patiently, to be saved.
*
H ANNAH and Zalman hired Leah Bloch, a nineteen-year-old seminary graduate, to foil the traps of the impious école and give the girls additional instruction on modesty and religious observance. Pale, thin-lipped Leah Bloch, who fantasized that the new Hasidic family from afar was hers, instead of her own ordinary French family, explained that Mila and Atara must be proud of their lineage, of parents who were not dupes of the French
lumières
. She taught the girls to read Scripture the proper way—never the words of Scripture alone, but always accompanied by the revered commentators’ interpretations. She sang fervent, pious songs to counter the songs the girls were hearing in school. Every Sabbath afternoon, Leah Bloch and
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