“ANNA, HURRY,” Mama called.
Anna pulled up her other long brown stocking and hooked it onto the suspenders which hung from a harness that went over her shoulders. She reached for the cotton petticoat Mama had put ready. Already she was too hot. She felt smothered in clothes. First there was the underwear which came down to her knees, then the straps holding up her suspenders, then the hateful, itchy ribbed stockings and now the petticoat.
Mama pushed aside the curtain that hung across the end of Anna’s alcove. “Hurry up,” she urged again.
Anna put on her white blouse and buttoned it. It gaped open between the buttons.
Mama sighed. “You grow so fast,” she said.
Anna sighed too. She would stop growing if she knew how. She felt far too big already. Her heart lightened, though, as she stretched out her hand for her new tunic.
“One new thing each to start school in,” Papa had decided.
Always before, they had whole new outfits for the first day of school, but by now they were getting used to things being different.
Gretchen had chosen a yellow blouse which made her fair hair shine like gold. The boys picked corduroy pants. When they got home, they pranced around in them, making them squeak. For once, Rudi was as silly as Fritz. Frieda and Anna got tunics.
“I hate it,” Frieda had stormed. “It’s dull and awful. Like a uniform!”
“It looks fine on you,” Mama had insisted, ignoring the bright, more expensive dresses. “There is a good big hem to let down and it’s serge too. It will last forever.”
At that, Frieda moaned as though Mama had plunged a knife into her.
Anna loved her tunic, though. She liked running her fingers down the sharp pleats. She even liked the plainness of it. It was like a uniform. Anna had always secretly wanted a uniform.
“Sit up,” Mama said now, “while I fix your hair.”
When it was done, she sent Anna to show herself to Papa.
Anna hurried until she reached the landing. The rest of the way she walked sedately, for she felt special-looking and grand. She presented herself proudly to her father.
Papa looked at her. Anna waited.
“Klara,” he called, “what about ribbons for her hair?”
Anna stood as straight as before but the proud feeling inside her crumpled. She knew what Mama would say. Mama arrived and said it.
“Ribbons will not stay on Anna’s hair,” Mama said grimly. “However I will try again. Gretchen, run and get your new plaid ribbons.”
When Dr. Schumacher arrived to take Mama and her to the new school, Anna was ready with a bright bow on each of her thin braids.
“You look lovely, Anna,” the doctor smiled.
Anna looked away. She knew better.
“It is so kind of you to take Anna to this school,” Mama fussed, getting herself and Anna into their coats.
“Nonsense,” Dr. Schumacher said, “I know Miss Williams. I can help with the English, too. It won’t take long.”
The three of them found nothing to say to each other as they rode along. When they got out in front of the school, Anna marched along between her mother and the doctor. She tried to look as though this were something she did every day, as though her heart were not thudding so hard against her ribs it almost hurt. Franz Schumacher reached down his big warm hand and gathered up her cold little paw. Anna tried to jerk away but he held on. She gulped and went on walking: one foot … the other foot. His hand felt just like Papa’s. She left her hand where it was and felt braver.
Miss Williams was the first surprise in what was to be a day of surprises.
“It’s lovely to have you with us, Anna,” she said when Dr. Schumacher drew Anna forward and introduced her and Mama.
The teacher had a low husky voice, not a bit like Frau Schmidt’s. And her smile was so honest that even Anna could not doubt she meant it. She was pretty, too. Her hair was as bright as Gretchen’s. She looked at Anna almost the way Papa did.
She doesn’t know me yet, Anna reminded herself, not smiling in return. She hasn’t heard me read.
“I’ve brought you a real challenge this time, Eileen,” Dr. Schumacher said in an undertone.
Challenge.
Anna did not know that word. Did it mean “stupid one”? But no, it couldn’t. Franz Schumacher still had her hand in his and the kindness of his grasp had not changed as he said it. Anna kept the new word in her mind. When she got home, she would ask Papa.
Fifteen minutes later she sat in her new desk and watched her mother and Dr. Schumacher leave the classroom.
“Don’t leave me!” Anna almost cried out after them, her courage deserting her.
Instead, she put one hand up to feel the crispness of Gretchen’s hair ribbon. One of the bows was gone. Anna pulled off the other one and shoved it out of sight into the desk.
She must not cry. She must not!
Then the desk itself caught her attention and distracted her. She had never seen one like it before. It had hinges on the sides and you could tip it up so that your book was close to you. She looked around wonderingly. The desk was not the only thing that was different. The pencil in the trough was bigger around than her thumb. The blackboards weren’t black at all — they were green; and the chalk was fat too, and yellow instead of white.
Even the children were different. Most of them were older than Anna.
“We have Grades One to Seven in this room,” Miss Williams had explained to Mama.
The desks were not set in straight rows nailed to the floor. They were pushed into separate groups. Miss Williams put Anna in one right beside her own desk near the front.
“You can sit next to Benjamin,” she said. “Ben’s been needing someone to keep him on his toes, haven’t you, Ben?”
Anna had no idea how she was supposed to keep Benjamin on his toes. She looked sideways at his feet. They seemed perfectly ordinary.
Was it a joke, maybe?
Anna did not smile. It did not sound like a joke to her.
Quickly, Miss Williams told the new girl the names of all the other children in the class: Jane, Mavis, Kenneth, Bernard, Isobel, Jimmy, Veronica, Josie, Charles. The names flew around Anna’s ears like birds, each escaping just as she thought she had it safely captured.
“You won’t remember most of them now,” the teacher said, seeing panic in the child’s eyes. “You’ll have to get to know us bit by bit. Bernard is the oldest, so you’ll soon know him because he runs us all.”
Like Rudi, Anna said to herself. She would keep out of Bernard’s way, if she could. Only she wasn’t sure which one he was.
“I think you and Ben will probably be working together,” Miss Williams went on.
“Introduce her to Ben properly, Miss Williams,” a tall boy, who might be Bernard, suggested.
“Anna, allow me to present Benjamin Nathaniel Goodenough,” Miss Williams obliged.
Anna stared at the small boy with black tufty hair and an impish face. He was a good head shorter than she was, though his glasses were as big as hers. Behind them, his eyes sparkled.
“I’m named after both my grandfathers,” he explained.
“Now you know us well enough to begin with,” the teacher said. “It’s time we got some work done in this room.”
Anna, who had been relaxed studying Benjamin Nathaniel, froze. What now? Would she have to read? She sat as still as a trapped animal while Miss Williams went to a corner cupboard. In a moment, she was back.
“Here are some crayons, Anna,” she said. “I’d like you to draw a picture. Anything you like. I’ll get the others started and then I’ll be free to find out where you are in your schoolwork.”
Anna did not take the crayons. She did not know anything she could draw. She was nowhere in her schoolwork. She wanted Papa desperately.
And what did “challenge” mean?
“Draw your family, Anna,” Miss Williams said.
She spoke with great gentleness but firmly too, as though she knew, better than Anna did, what the girl could do. She picked up one of Anna’s square, stubby hands and closed Anna’s fingers around the crayon box.
“Draw your father and your mother, your brothers and your sisters — and yourself, too, Anna. I want to see all of you.”
The feel of the box, solid and real, brought back Anna’s courage. The crayons were big and bright. They looked inviting. The teacher put paper on the desk, rough, cream-coloured paper. Lovely paper for drawing. Six pieces, at least!
“Take your time,” Miss Williams said, moving away. “Use as much paper as you need.”
Anna took a deep breath. Then slowly she picked out a crayon. She knew how to start, anyway.
She would begin with Papa.