Other Earths (collection)

“How do you know it was hours?” asked Margit. “Can you see your watch?” It was so dark in the barn that she could barely see Judit’s face, or Deb’ra’s, scowling as though she were about to cry, or Magda’s, silly Magda’s, blowing spit bubbles that shimmered in the faint light. With her handkerchief, which smelled like cheese from the sandwiches, she wiped the trail of spit that ran down Magda’s chin. Thank goodness D’nes had fallen asleep on the straw. For a moment the moon escaped from the clouds, and she saw that he was sucking his thumb. Well, let him.

She felt a hand on her arm, and then Judit was pulling her away, saying, “Stay there, Deb’ra, and take care of Magda.”

“Listen,” said Judit. “We have to have a plan. Once Deb’ra gets really hungry, she won’t care how much noise she makes. She’s been that way since she was a baby. And what about D’nes when he wakes up? At least Magda will stay quiet as long as we tell her. But we need food too, Margit. I don’t know how far it is to the border, but when Father took us to Arad last year, it was more than an hour by train. We can’t walk if we’re hungry.”

“Can we ask the farmer for food? We could tell him we were on a trip with our parents and got lost. They’d have to feed us, wouldn’t they?”

“They wouldn’t have to do anything, not if they saw these on our clothes.” Even in the darkness, Margit could see the yellow stars sewn on Judit’s and Deb’ra’s dresses. “Why should they treat us any better than the people in Szeged?”

Margit understood the bitterness in Judit’s voice. The Lengyels had lived in one of the largest houses in Szeged. Next year, Judit was supposed to graduate from high school. She had been planning to study art in Budapest, and eventually in Paris. Margit had never understood why Judit had helped her that day in the schoolyard, when P’ter Nagy and his friend Tam’s had pushed her down on the pavement, shouting, “Hello, T̈nd’r! Let’s see if she has scales under her clothes.” She was two years younger than Judit, and her family lived in a small house on Boszork’ny street. Had lived, she corrected herself. But after Judit had pummeled the boys with her school bag, shouting, “Stop it, you idiots!” they had become friends.

“I don’t want to take care of Magda anymore,” said Deb’ra. “I want to come talk with you.” Her voice rose. “You never let me do anything!”

“Shut up, or I’ll make you!” said Judit. “Do you know what will happen if anyone finds out we’re here?”

Deb’ra started to cry. “I’m going to tell Papa that you were mean to me!”

“Oh, don’t, D’bora,” said Margit, but Judit said, “Let her. It’s more quiet than when she talks. Now, we have to get these things off our clothes. We should be able to cut them off with the pocket knife.”

“But won’t we get in trouble?” There had been so many ways to get in trouble, recently. First, they could not listen to the radio. Then, they could not ride in motor cars, and Mama had to walk all day to visit Aunt Ilona in the country. Then they could not play in the park, or watch movies at the cinema, and finally Margit had to stay home from school. Papa stayed home too, because he could not work at the newspaper. And finally all of them, all of the T̈nd’r in Szeged, even those who had brown hair and went to the Catholic church, had to move into the part of the city where Judit’s family had moved after the police took the big house on Gutenberg Street for their headquarters. Mr. Lengyel had asked them to move in, although there were already three families sharing the house. The police had marked down who was living there: Jews, Bolsheviks, T̈nd’r.

“Do you think we could be in any more trouble than we’re already in? We ran away from the police, Margit. If anyone finds out who we are, we’ll probably go to jail.”

The horse whinnied in the corner, and D’nes turned on the straw. Moonlight broke through the clouds again, and Margit saw with relief that Deb’ra had fallen asleep beside him. Magda was rocking back and forth, crooning quietly to herself.

“We could explain that we ran only because Papa told us to. It was so quick, with the police knocking on the door, and Papa telling Aunt Ilona to take us into the alley. We didn’t know what we were doing. If we tell them that we just want to be with our parents—”

“You idiot.” Judit’s words felt like a slap. “Don’t you understand that’s what your father was trying to prevent? The police were coming to take them away. They were coming to take everyone away. They’ve already done that in other towns. My father heard from the Rabbi.”

Papa and Mama taken away. “Where? Where would they take them?” Margit was crying now too, but silently, although she felt as though she were about to break apart. In a few moments, she would be lying in fragments on the barn floor.

“I don’t know,” said Judit. “Nowhere good.” Margit felt Judit’s arms around her, and she could not help letting out a sob so loud that it made Magda jump. “Remember what happened to your Aunt Ilona.”