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10
10thOctober 1941
The soccer ballthunkedagainst the brick wall of the ghetto.Jan ran to get it and kicked it to Walter, who caught it against the inside of his foot with a grin.
“Two to nothing,” he said.
Jan squinted into the sunlight.“No way.That wasn’t a goal.”
“Yes, it was.”
“You were wide,” complained Jan.
Walter laughed.“Not a chance.Go again?”
Jan stood close to the wall.He glanced at it, listening to the ruckus taking place on the other side.For days, the Jewish police and Nazis had shepherded Jews away from the wall.Many of the apartment complexes that pushed up close to the brickwork and had made smuggling easier for Jan and the other children had been evacuated.
The Nazis had figured out what they were doing and had moved the residents away from the wall.No one was allowed near it on the ghetto side.Jan hadn’t been through for three days and was beginning to think he might not get the chance anytime soon.
He ran over to where Walter was juggling the ball between his feet.He didn’t let it hit the ground, kicking it with a toe, then the side of one foot, over his head to the other heel and back again.
“What do you think?”asked Jan, dipping his head in the direction of the wall.
“I guess we’ll either have to give it a try or go home.”
“I’m not going home,” replied Jan.
“Then let’s do it,” agreed Walter.“What’s the worst that can happen?”
“Firing squad,” offered Jan.
“Meh,” replied Walter.“Piece of cake, as the Americans say.”
He’d never let Walter know about the restless nervousness that turned over and over in his gut.But even though he was worried, it wasn’t something that would stop him.The thrill of adventure, the call of the challenge—those were things he couldn’t pass up.Over the months, he’d learned how to dodge the Nazis, to fool the Jewish Police, to talk his way out of tricky situations.It gave him a thrill every time he escaped death.And besides, what would the Wierzbicka family do without his help?They’d run out of supplies in a few days and starve to death like the thousands of others who collapsed in the ghetto every single day.He’d jumped over or dodged around bodies countless times during his smuggling expeditions.Lately, they were getting so thick on the ground, he’d had to take a different route to get through to Nacha and her family.
That was how he’d begun to think of the Wierzbickas.He tried not to, but couldn’t help it.He didn’t want to feel the way he did.It only complicated things.But he longed to see Nacha again.He wished he could spend every day with her.Since their outing to the cinema, she was all he could think about.She was pure and sweet and perfect in every way.She was the antidote to the hatred, darkness and evil surrounding him.The war had sucked all the colour out of his life, but she’d brought it back again.
“Kick the ball over,” suggested Walter.“We’ll climb the wall to get it back.”
“We can each take some of the medical supplies in our backpacks.That way, if one of us is caught, the other will still be able to take them to the hospital.”
“Good idea,” agreed Walter, his red hair bobbing over his forehead as he nodded.They separated the supplies between their backpacks and slipped them over their shoulders.
Jan took the soccer ball and passed it back and forth between his feet for a few moments, scanning the wall and listening for any activity beyond.He drew back one foot and kicked the ball with his toe, sending it flying over the bricks and barbed wire.It hit the apartment opposite and bounced back into the wall and down to the ground.
With a glance at Walter, Jan ran after it.There was no one around on this side of the wall other than a few vendors packing up their stalls after a long day trading at the markets.They paid no attention to the boys.
Everyone who worked at the markets knew Jan well and understood the role he played in the smuggling network that’d sprung up around the markets and the ghetto.Jan relied on the people around him to keep his secret—and so far, they’d all protected his life with their silence, although he knew he couldn’t rely on them continuing to do so if they were caught and interrogated by the Gestapo or theEinsatzgruppen.
Walter held the barbed wire apart for Jan to push through.Jan did the same for his friend.When Jan and Walter straightened on the other side of the wall, his ball was nowhere to be seen.He peered along the wall one way, then the other.There was no one around.The narrow alley that backed onto the ghetto wall was abandoned.Usually it was filled with people, but it’d been emptied by an angry group of Wermacht soldiers and a loyal Jewish Police unit.
“Where is it?”asked Walter, scratching his head.
The sound of a ball being kicked back and forth, followed by laughter and shouts of glee, met Jan’s ears.He frowned and followed the noise along a darkened lane.His heart thudded against his rib cage, and each footstep was slow and stealthy.
When he reached the end of the lane, he saw a group of fifty boys.A few had divided into teams and were scrimmaging with Jan’s ball.One boy kicked it high over the heads of the other boys, who ran after it with glee, calling “Mine!”or “Gotit!”or “Pass!”
All the boys sported a white band around one arm.Some wore woollen caps or fedoras.They shouted and laughed, faces red as they ran after the ball.Quickly Jan and Walter tied their own armbands into place and strode out to greet the boys.
