The Impossible Journey by Gloria Whelan Page B

couple were about the age of our parents. The man had a beard and little wrinkles about his eyes. He was as chubby as Russ. The woman wore her hair twisted around her head in an old-fashioned braid. Though she smiled at me, there was a sadness behind the smile. The twins looked as much like each other as a reflection in a mirror.
    â€œMy name is Dr. Glebov,” the man said, “and thisis my wife, Olga, and my boys, Nikolai and Yuri. What are your names?”
    â€œI’m Marya, and my brother is Georgi.”
    â€œWhere are you going?”
    Because I could think of no other answer, I said, “To the Yenisey River.”
    His eyebrows shot up. “That’s a long journey.” He looked at the tickets I clutched in my hand. “You must be taking the same trains we are, but our journey is not so far. We get off the train at the Ob River.”
    Mrs. Glebov offered, “Can I give you some makivnek ?”
    â€œNo thank you,” I said. “We have our own food.” I worried that I had been too quick to respond to their friendly gestures. How did I know that they were not some sort of government spies?
    Georgi had been staring at the twins, paying no attention to what we were saying; but at the mention of makivnek he pricked up his ears. “I’ll have some, please,” he said.
    I frowned at him, but the woman only smiled and reached into a basket for two pieces of cake, which she handed us. I wanted to refuse, but it had been a long time since dinner, and the cake had almonds and raisins and a thick layer of frosting, so before I could stop myself, I was eating it.
    With the cake safely in his stomach Georgi curled up next to me and fell asleep. I tried to keep awake, but my eyelids kept drooping. Dr. Glebov leaned across and said, “Sleep if you like—I’ll wake you in plenty of time for the train.” He said nothing about our parents arriving.
    Gratefully I closed my eyes, and in a moment, worn out by all my worry, I was asleep.
    It seemed only a second later when Dr. Glebov shook me gently awake. “They have called our train,” he said. “Do you have your passports ready?”
    I sat up, startled. “What do you mean?”
    â€œYou cannot go anywhere in this country without a passport. If you don’t have one, they will neverlet you on the train.”
    Tears spilled out of my eyes. With no more thought of caution I poured out our story. “My parents have both been arrested and sent to Siberia. My papa has been sent to a coal mine, and my mama has been exiled to Dudinka.” I showed him the letter with her address. “We are going to her. If we stay here, they will put us in an orphanage.”
    The Glebovs appeared amazed at our story. “It’s a long way from where the railroad puts you off to the town of Dudinka,” the doctor said. “Do you have tickets for the steamship? And how will you take the steamship with no passport?”
    â€œWe’re going to walk.”
    â€œThat’s impossible!” Mrs. Glebov said.
    â€œNo,” I said. “We’ll have three months. I know we can do it if we can just get on the train that will take us to the river.”
    Dr. Glebov looked at us for a long moment. “Listen to me, both of you. I have a family passportthat includes my children but does not name them. Stay close to me and remember that for now your last name is Glebov.”
    He awoke the twins, and the six of us pushed our way into the crowd that was headed for the train. Dr. Glebov held out his passport for the conductor, who looked at the twins and then at Georgi.
    â€œYou have three the same age?” he asked in a suspicious voice.
    â€œOnly two.” The doctor laughed. “This one”—he pointed to Georgi—“is a year younger, but he grows like a weed.”
    Dr. Glebov’s easy laughter seemed to assure the conductor, and he said no more.
    As we climbed onto the