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the cats and dogs owned by Jews. Can you go and get her?”
“Where is Nadia? Can I see her?”
I didn’t care anymore if she and Pietrik were in love. I just wanted them both to be safe.
“I can only tell you the Nazis almost arrested them, and they escaped just in time.”
“For being Jewish? She’s Catholic.”
“Yes, but her grandfather was Jewish, so that puts her at risk. Nadia has to stay away for a while. She’ll be
fine, but right now Felka’s not.” He held my arm. “Will you help? Bring her here?”
“Of course.”
“Also, Nadia’s mother left something in her nightstand, and she needs to put it in a safe place. A yellow
envelope tucked inside the phone book.”
“I don’t know, Pietrik. Nadia’s mother always locks up.”
“The back door is open. You need to take that phone book with the envelope inside it. I hate to involve
you because you’re precious to me, but I have no one else.”
Were those tears in his eyes?
“Yes, you know I’ll help.”
I was precious to him? He took my hand, turned it over, and kissed my palm. I thought I might melt right
there, through the floorboards and into the basement. For a moment, I forgot all the bad things going on.
“Bring the phone book with the envelope to 12 Lipowa Street tomorrow morning just after ten. Ring the
bell. Someone will ask you who it is. You say, ‘Iwona.’ ”
“Is that my code name?” Iwona meant yew tree. I wanted a sexier code name like Grazyna, which means
beautiful.
“Yes, that’s your code name. Wiola will buzz you in. Just give her the book, and tell her it’s for Konrad
Zegota. Then leave as you came, and cut through Park Ludowy before you head home.”
Later, when I replayed the scene in my head, I wasn’t sure if he’d really said, “You’re precious to me.”
But maybe the Photoplay love quiz was right after all.
—
THE NEXT MORNING I departed for Nadia’s house, a fine apartment on the first floor of a two-story building,
a five-minute walk from our place. I wanted to do a good job on my first mission for Pietrik.
On the way I stopped at the stone wall next to her house where we left secret notes and our favorite books
for each other. I pulled our special square stone out, smooth, edges rounded from so many years of ins and
outs. The last book I’d left was still there, Kornel Makuszynski’s Satan from the Seventh Grade, our
favorite book we’d passed back and forth so many times. Would she have a chance to take it? I left it and slid
the stone back in place.
I continued on without the least bit of nerves, until I came to Nadia’s house, that is. Once I saw her orange
door, my knees became quaky. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
I stepped around back to the little fenced-in yard, peeked through the slats, and saw Felka curled up on
the back step. I could clearly see her ribs, even through her thick fur. Nadia’s yard was even smaller than
ours, a sickly rosebush and a rusted child’s wagon the only ornaments.