The War that Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

for all of us.”
We took the tree into the house and set it up in the corner of the living room.
Susan put a string of little electric lights in its branches. She went into
Becky’s room upstairs and came out with a big box. She looked inside,
blinked back tears, and shut the box again.
“Let’s make our own ornaments,” she said. “Wouldn’t you like that?”
How would I know? I could tell she wanted me to like it, and I didn’t want
her to cry. It made me nervous when she cried. “Yes?” I said.
“Oh, Ada.” She gave me a hug with her free arm. I took a deep breath, and
didn’t pull away. “These are the ornaments Becky and I put on our trees
together. I’m not ready to have them out again.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Okay?” she asked. “Really?”
I didn’t know what to say. Somehow Christmas was making me feel jumpy
inside. All this talk about being together and being happy and celebrating—it
felt threatening. Like I shouldn’t be part of it. Like I wasn’t allowed. And
Susan wanted me to be happy, which was scarier still.
Ornaments were little pretty things you hung on a Christmas tree. Susan got
out colored paper, and scissors, and glue. She showed us how to make
snowflakes and stars. I worked hard to make mine as good as hers. Jamie cut
his paper quick into ragged shapes. We hung them all up, ragged and careful
both, and the tree did look pretty in the corner of the room. Bovril thought so
too. He lay under it during the day, batting the lowest ornaments with his
paws. Jamie wadded up some of the leftover paper, and in the evenings tossed
it back and forth across the floor for Bovril to pounce upon.
I hated sharing my bed with a cat. Sometimes I woke with a tail in my face
and there always seemed to be hair in the sheets. Jamie insisted he could only
sleep if Bovril was tucked up with him, and Bovril, drat him, seemed to feel
the same way.
It snowed again. When I rode Butter over to Maggie’s, snow balled up under
his feet, and clumped in the bottom of his tail. The whole world was white
and sparkling. Snow in London didn’t stay white for long.
Maggie’d been helping Fred every day since she’d come home, and on the