Between Shades of Gray(46)

The commander left the room. I began to protest.

Kretzsky pointed to the front door. “Davai!” he yelled, waving for me to leave. I saw Jonas waiting outside.

“But—” I started.

Kretzsky shouted something and exited behind the desk.

Jonas opened the door and peeked in. “He told us to go to the kitchen door. I heard him. We can get our bread there,” he whispered.

“But we’re supposed to get potatoes,” I argued. The commander was a liar. I should have drawn the snakes. I turned to pick up my drawing pad. I saw the file on the desk.

“C’mon, Lina, I’m hungry,” said Jonas.

“Okay,” I said, pretending to gather my paper. I grabbed the file and shoved it in my coat.

“Yes, let’s go,” I said, rushing through the door. Jonas had no idea what I had done.





55


WE WALKED TO the NKVD barracks. I felt my heartbeat thump in my ears. I tried to calm myself, act normal. I looked over my shoulder. I saw Kretzsky exit the rear door of the kolkhoz office. He walked in the shadows to the barracks, his long wool coat swaying around his feet. We waited in back near the kitchen, as instructed.

“He may not come,” I said, eager to run back to the shack.

“He has to come,” said Jonas. “They owe us food for your drawing.”

Kretzsky appeared at the back door. A loaf of bread sailed into the dirt. Couldn’t he hand the bread to us? Would that be so difficult for him? I hated Kretzsky.

“C’mon, Jonas. Let’s go,” I said. Suddenly, potatoes rocketed at us. I heard laughter from inside the kitchen.

“Do you have to throw them?” I said, moving toward the dark doorway. The door closed.

“Look, there are several!” said Jonas, running to pick them up.

The door opened. A tin can smacked against my forehead. I heard clapping and felt a warm dripping above my eyebrow. Cans and garbage rained down around us. The NKVD amused themselves by pelting helpless children with garbage.

“They’re drunk. Hurry, let’s go! Before they start shooting,” I said, not wanting to drop the file.

“Wait, some of it is food!” said Jonas, frantically collecting things off the ground. A sack flew out and hit Jonas in the shoulder, knocking him over. A cheer erupted from behind the door.

“Jonas!” I ran to him. Something wet hit me in the face.

Kretzsky appeared at the door and said something.

“Hurry,” said Jonas. “He says we’re stealing food and he’s going to report us.”

We scurried around, like hens in a yard, craning our necks for anything that touched the ground. I reached up to clear the smelly slop from my eyes. Rotten potato peels. I put my head down and ate them.

“Fasheest sveenya!” yelled Kretzsky. He slammed the door.

I gathered things in my skirt, holding my arm against my coat and the file. I took all I could carry, even empty cans for residue. The left side of my forehead throbbed. I reached up and felt a big, wet goose egg.

Andrius emerged from the side of the building. He looked around. “I see you got something for your drawing,” he said.

I ignored him and quickly began snatching the potatoes with my free hand. I stuffed them into my pockets and skirt, desperate to get each one.

Andrius moved to lift the sack I was straddling. He put his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he said gently. “We’ll get it all.”

I looked up at him.

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” I said, pulling potato rot from my hair.

Jonas scooped up the bread. Andrius picked up the big sack.

“What’s in that?” asked Jonas.

“Flour,” said Andrius. “I’ll carry it back for you.”

“Did you hurt your arm?” asked Andrius, watching me clutch my coat.

I shook my head.

We trudged through the snow in silence.





56


“HURRY, JONAS,” I said as soon as we were a safe distance from the NKVD building. “Mother will be worried. Run ahead and let her know we’re okay.”

Jonas ran toward our shack. I slowed my pace. “They have a file on us,” I said, watching my brother shrink in the distance.

“They have files on everyone,” said Andrius. He tossed the sack of flour up, readjusting it on his shoulder.

“Maybe you could help me with something,” I said.

Andrius shook his head, almost laughing. “I can’t steal a file, Lina. That’s a lot different from wood or a can of tomatoes. It’s one thing to get in the kitchen, but—”

“I don’t need you to take the file,” I said, stopping short of our shack.

“What?” Andrius stopped.

“I don’t need you to steal the file.” I looked around and opened my coat slightly. “I already have it,” I whispered. “It was on the commander’s desk. I need you to put it back once I’ve read it.”

Shock flooded Andrius’s face. His head snapped from side to side, to see if we were alone. He pulled me behind a shack. “What’s wrong with you! Do you want to get yourself killed?” he whispered.

“The bald man said it’s all in our files, where we were sent, perhaps what happened to the rest of our family. It’s all right here.” I crouched down, letting go of the potatoes and other items I had been carrying. I reached into my coat.