The War that Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

I didn’t mean to. I’d watched Susan using it, and it looked easy, and all I was
trying to do was sew two scraps of fabric together, for a start. But the scraps
sucked into the bottom part of the machine, and the needle ran up and down
through it anyway. A bunch of thread came out of nowhere, snarling itself into
a knot, and then the machine made an awful noise and then the needle
snapped in two.
I took my foot off the pedal. I stared at the tangle of thread and cloth, at the
broken stump of the needle. I was going to get in awful trouble. Susan had
been sewing every day since she finished our dressing gowns. She’d made
herself a dress and made new shorts for Jamie. She loved the sewing machine.
I couldn’t think what to do. My stomach roiled. I fled upstairs and hid in
the spare room, the room still full of Becky’s things. I slid under the bed, deep
into the corner. My mind went numb. I started to shake.
Much later I heard Susan come in the front door. Heard her calling my
name, heard Jamie climbing the stairs. He opened the door to our bedroom
and shouted, “She’s not up here!”
“She has to be.” That was Susan’s voice. “Her crutches are right by the
stairs.”
They called my name, over and over. Jamie ran outside. Ran back in. It
grew darker. Finally Susan’s face poked under the edge of the bed. “You idiot
girl! Why are you hiding?”
I cringed against the far wall. Susan grabbed my arm and dragged me out.
“What’s wrong? Who frightened you?”
I threw my hands over my head. “I’m not going to hit you!” Susan
shouted. “Stop that!”
Jamie came into the room. “Was it the Germans?” he asked.
“Of course it wasn’t the Germans,” Susan said. “Ada. Ada!” She had an
iron grip on my wrists, pulling my arms down. “What happened?”
“You’ll send me back,” I said. “You’ll send me back.” All that time under
the bed my panic had grown worse and worse. I’d lose Butter. Freedom.
Jamie.
“I won’t send you back,” Susan said. “But you’ll tell me this instant what’s