As Sarah cradled me in her lap, I thought I knew why big strong Papa, who was never afraid of anything, was so scared of the Nazis. I looked out the window of our house that morning, only to see a line of soldiers with the squiggles on their arms come marching down our street, stopping at each house. I ran and told Papa, his face suddenly turned white at my news. He asked if I was sure and I told him yes. Papa called down Mama, John, and Sarah. He told John to pull up the planks to the floor in the dining room. John had pulled up the cheap
boards with ease, so quick that it looked as if John’s hands were flying over the floor like two eagles. I had turned to Papa and Mama, who told Sarah and I to go to John. John had hugged us and helped us, gently, into the small, dark hole. He had said that we were not to get out, no matter what we heard, and told us to be very, very quiet. I started to cry then, I was so scared. He told me to be brave and stay with Sarah. Papa called from the kitchen for John, who rushed into the dining room. A few seconds later, Mama came into view. She handed Sarah a bag full of food, Sarah’s books, and some letters. She said they were from my aunt in England, who would take care of us if anything happened. I looked at Mama, who smiled at us, although she looked very sad and scared. She said that we would see each other again and told us that she loved us both. That’s when John brought me my doll and Papa handed Sarah a single candle a packet of matchsticks. Suddenly, I heard noises outside our house, and John began to close the hole. Papa had told John to get in the hole, but he refused, saying there was not enough food for the three of them. He said he would rather stand up to the Nazis than hide anyway. I admired my brother then, for the first time in my life. He looked so brave and strong, like Papa.
The noises grew louder, and I finally understood that they were voices loud male voices. Mama and Papa and John had said goodbye as they covered the hole. It was dark, but some of the light from the new morning was streaming through the cracks in the floor. Almost as soon as we were covered I heard our door burst open. I heard a man say to Mama and Papa to pack their belongings and come with them. John dared to ask why, and I heard a loud slap and someone stumble around. I heard Mama cry out, and I tried to cry out too, but Sarah closed her hand over my mouth. I looked and saw the dim outline of her head shake side to side. I became quiet. Then, I listened and heard the man say they were taking all the Jews to a concentration camp. I heard Papa hush John, and ask the man how long they would have to gather their belongings. The man said ten minutes, and then told my family to only pack clothes and some personal belongings. Mama was crying. I felt Sarah trembling, but holding me just as tight. For the next few minutes, I heard what I guessed were Mama and Papa and John rushing around the house, gathering a few precious items. I heard a voice calling from outside for all Jews to come out. There were footsteps in the kitchen. The door opened and closed. It sounded so final. It made me want to weep, but I was too scared to make any noise.
It has been six days since my family was taken. I could tell because the light coming through the cracks in the floor has gone out seven times, and has faded back on six. Six long days and seven long nights. Sarah has had to be careful with the candle and has only used it when we eat. It is so stuffy down in the hole and so cramped we can barely move. Sarah says we still have plenty of food, but I can tell she is worried. We pray that Auntie will be coming soon. But every minute it seems less and less likely.
It is morning, and Sarah has already given me my ration of food: some bread, beans and water. We ate quickly, not talking. We hard talk at all, except to reassure one another. Most of the time we are very quiet. Sarah is reading the books Mama gave her. I am playing with Molly, braiding her hair, which is actually brown rope. We are quiet. So is our house.
I hear a noise. Listening, quietly, I poke Sarah to make sure she is listening. She looks at me, and I cup my ear, asking her to listen without speaking. We listen. Voices rise from outside the house. The door opens and shuts. I look at Sarah, and her eyes are fearful. I am afraid too, so afraid. She is holding me and hushing me. I want to tell her it is Papa and Mama and John, not the Nazis. I want to call out to my family, but Sarah is hushing me. She doesn’t think it is our family. Part of me doubts it too.
The voice is calling. It is a female voice! Calling for someone named David and Molly. I immediately think of my Papa and Mama; that was their names. The voice calls for John, then Sarah, then Zoe. Someone is calling for us! Sarah looks up and pounds on the floorboards above us. “Auntie! Auntie!” she calls. I join in, realizing who the voice belongs to. We pound on the floorboards, calling for her. We hear her footsteps running into the dining room, calling for us, asking where we are. I tell her we are under the floor and ask her to pull up the loose boards on the left side of the table. I hear scraping and see the boards lifting away. The bright light nearly blinds us, but we shade our eyes. We see Auntie standing over us. She is crying hard, but she lifts Sarah out of the floor, then me. We hold each other tight, sobbing. I see Auntie’s face through my tears, smiling down at me. I know that I don’t have to be afraid anymore. My fear leaves me as we exit the house, shutting the door behind us.