Under a Red Sky by Haya Leah Molnar Page B

assignment that I run home and tell Tata all about it, hoping to impress him with my new knowledge of history. But instead of giving me praise and help with my homework, Tata gets upset.
    â€œWhat kind of a loaded question is Comrade Popescu asking you about the USSR?” he booms into the thick air of our bedroom. “You tell her you have no idea what Mother Russia has to do with any of this. And don’t call it Mother Russia,” Tata says, waving his finger at me. “It’s absolutely unfair of her to ask you anything about Russia without first teaching you the proper, approved CURRICULUM.” Tata utters this word as if it were the most important thing in the universe, as if it weighed a ton. “You ask Comrade Popescu to define her relationship with the Soviet
Union and watch her squirm when she gets into trouble with the almighty Party!”
    Tata stops for a moment and looks at Mama, who’s sitting in bed propped against her pillows, knitting a sweater. “Is Eva’s teacher crazy to ask a bunch of first graders such a politically charged question, Stefi?” Mama doesn’t say anything, but her ball of yarn rolls off the bed, its red string of wool looking much like one of the borderlines drawn on Comrade Popescu’s map of Romania. “Am I right, Stefi, or not?”
    Mama looks up and sighs. “You’re right, Gyuri, but I think you’re overreacting. I don’t believe that Comrade Popescu is trying to trap the kids into anything. I think she just wants to see what they come up with, that’s all.”
    But Tata goes on as if he never even heard her. “Well, we shouldn’t allow Eva to elaborate on such subjects. They’re way over her head. It’s too risky, Stefi. Do you have any idea what the consequences will be if Eva’s innocent answer gets her in trouble?”
    â€œIt’s not over my head,” I blurt out, “and I don’t think it’s risky because—” Tata’s cold stare stops me in midsentence.
    My mother sighs. “Eva’s not going to say the wrong thing, Gyuri. She’s smarter than that.”
    Tata glares at my mother. I wish I had never told them about this assignment. I don’t want to contradict Tata, but now I’m really scared because I can’t go back to school and face Comrade Popescu with a bunch of questions instead of answers. What does he mean that all of this is “over my head”? I know very well that Romanians have no choice but to follow whatever the USSR dictates, even if
those policies change from one day to the next. Does Tata think I’m stupid or something? I believe the Romanian history Comrade Popescu is teaching us shows that we’ve survived many tyrants. I think that maybe the USSR is just another tyrant like the rest of them, but I’m not going to tell anyone, because I’m afraid this is a dangerous thought, the kind that Mama warned me would get us all into trouble if I spoke it out loud. But I don’t believe for a second that Comrade Popescu would punish me for thinking it.
    Tata is so beside himself, he’s pacing up and down on the terrace. I excuse myself, saying that I’m going to get a slice of bread and jam from the kitchen, but instead I run to my grandparents’ bedroom. Grandpa Yosef is snoring in bed, and Grandma Iulia’s side is empty. She must be in the kitchen. I start to tiptoe backward toward the door, but Grandpa Yosef’s voice stops me.
    â€œEva, is that you?” he asks with his eyes half open.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” How does Grandpa always know when something is wrong?
    â€œNothing,” I lie, and then immediately blurt out my predicament about the school assignment. “Tata says Comrade Popescu’s wrong to be asking us loaded questions about our relationship with the Soviet Union. He says it’s over my head, but it’s not, and I don’t