The Impossible Journey by Gloria Whelan

treasure made by the great jeweler Fabergé,” he said. He opened it. “No pictures?” he asked. I shook my head. The pictures of the four girls were in my pocket.
    â€œThere is no market in this city for something like this. People want food, not fancy jewelry.”
    My heart dropped into my stomach. I was about to reach for the locket.
    â€œHowever, they like these little baubles in Europe.” He began to lay rubles onto the counter.There were enough for another railway ticket and for food to keep Georgi and me from starving. I snatched up the rubles and ran out of the shop before he could change his mind.
    At the rail ticket office, much to the astonishment of the agent I counted out the money for two tickets. He looked hard at the money, as if there might be something wrong with it, but in the end he gave me the tickets. The tickets were very long, for they would take us on a long journey. I folded them carefully and tucked them well into my pocket. There was no money left for steamship tickets, but I was determined to start out. From the map I knew that once we reached the river, we had only to follow it. To cover more than a thousand miles to Dudinka in just three months’ time, we would have to walk fifteen miles a day. What’s more, we would have to leave at once if we meant to get to Dudinka by fall and the start of the Siberian winter.
    That night Mrs. Zotov prepared a fine dinner. Ithought it was to celebrate Mr. Zotov’s first day at his new job, but I was wrong.
    â€œCome, Georgi, have another bit of ham. Marya, I made the potatoes with dill and sour cream, just as you like them.” For dessert there was a big bowl of stewed fruit, the apricots and prunes glistening in the syrup like jewels.
    After dinner Mrs. Zotov waved us away from the sink. “No, no. Tonight I’ll take care of the dishes. You pack your clothes.”
    Georgi and I looked at each other. For a moment I thought she had found out I had been to the railroad office and that she could see right through my pocket to the tickets.
    Making her voice cheerful, Mrs. Zotov said, “I have found the perfect children’s home for you. There is even a little yard where you can play about. There are classes for Georgi, and for you, Marya, instruction on cooking and housecleaning. The home furnishes cleaning women for the office buildings in Leningrad,so one day you will have a job.”
    I could do nothing but stare at her. She bristled under my angry and silent look.
    â€œThey will teach you manners as well,” she added.
    â€œI don’t want to go to an orphanage,” Georgi said. “Mama gave you all our things to keep us.”
    â€œAnd keep you we did,” Mr. Zotov said. “Haven’t we been feeding you? The bits and pieces from your parents are worth nothing. They have only cluttered up our apartment.”
    â€œThen why do you sit on our papa’s chair every night?” Georgi demanded.
    Mr. Zotov sprang out of the chair. His face was an angry red and his voice harsh. “We will have no more discussion. The two of you pack your things. You go to the children’s home in the morning.”
    Georgi kept looking at me, waiting for me to say we would not go. I saw his look of disappointment at my silence. I knew he felt I had let him down, but I said nothing because my mind was busy. We mustescape that night. If we delayed our departure until we were in the orphanage, it would be impossible to get away. Georgi and I might even be in separate buildings.
    We would wait until the Zotovs were asleep, and then we would leave. If they heard us moving about, they would think we were going to the bathroom in the hallway. I looked at the remainder of the ham on the kitchen shelf. Beside it there was some cheese and a package of dried apricots and prunes.
    I pushed Georgi into our tiny, closetlike room.
    In an accusing voice he asked, “Marya, why didn’t you say