‘You’ve got to stop thinking about what happened to Adam,’ said Nix.
Nix and Laura were shopping at the mall, trying to find a dress for Laura’s Bat Mitzvah party. Laura already had the outfit she would wear for the synagogue service – a modest dark skirt and soft pink sweater. She had hunted for days with her mother for something that was appropriate for the occasion but also modern and youthful. ‘Something you’ll wear more than this one time,’ her mother had said. The skirt and sweater they had found were perfect.
But when it came to the party dress, Laura’s mother agreed to let Laura and Nix go shopping on their own. ‘As long as it’s in the budget,’ her mother said as she dropped them at the entrance to the mall. ‘And remember,’ she added, ‘I still get final approval.’ Laura knew that meant it had to be what her mother always called, ‘age appropriate’.
‘Even if your Bat Mitzvah means you’re becoming a young woman, remember you’re still a young girl in this family.’
Nix was giddy in the mall, enthusiastically rummaging through the racks of trendy skirts and dresses in the junior section of the department store. Laura followed, slowly and reluctantly, still preoccupied with the incident at school – and with Sara’s diary.
‘Adam’s fine,’ said Nix. ‘Nothing really happened.’
Laura frowned. Nix was so easygoing; she took most things in her stride. And Laura admired that about her. But was she being too laid-back here, ignoring something that was important? ‘I know Adam’s okay,’ Laura said.
By the time Laura had called Adam on the evening of the incident, he was acting as though it had never taken place. A Beatles CD was blaring in the background. Adam was quoting seemingly meaningless facts.
‘Did you know,’ said Adam, ‘that when John wrote “I am the Walrus,” it was because he was sick of people trying to interpret his lyrics? So he decided to write something meaningless, just to see what they’d say! Isn’t that crazy?’
Laura had laughed, relieved to know that Adam was fine. Nix was probably right. Even though the episode with Steve Collins had scared her, nothing had happened, and Laura needed to put it out of her mind.
‘It’s not only that,’ Laura said to Nix and went on to tell her about the journal she had received from Mrs Mandelcorn. ‘The writing is amazing, Nix. And it’s all been done by this Jewish girl our age. You won’t believe what her life was like during the war. Her whole family – six of them – were all crammed into two small rooms, inside this ghetto.’
Nix frowned curiously.
‘You know that there were those places called concentration camps – prisons where lots of Jews were sent.’
‘Like Anne Frank.’
‘Right,’ nodded Laura. ‘Like Anne Frank after the Nazi soldiers raided her hiding place. Well, even before the concentration camps, there were parts of cities and towns in Europe where Jewish families had to go and live. The Nazis built walls around these sections, with barbed wire and everything. Jews couldn’t leave. And inside the ghettos, families were starving, and there was no electricity and no toilets — ’
‘Gross,’ interrupted Nix.
‘Anyway, this girl, Sara, wrote about her life in the ghetto, and that’s what I was reading.’ Laura could hardly begin to explain what it was like to read the journal entries from the leather-bound book. ‘Some of it’s written like a diary. But most of it is like reading a novel, except that it’s real.’
The night before, Laura had finished reading the part about Hinda’s illness. And again, she had stayed awake for far too long thinking about what that must have been like for Sara’s family. What if the same thing happened in Laura’s family? What if Emma became so ill and close to death? Laura never really thought about life and death situations – how many kids her age did? She could read about a war in another country and feel sad. She could know about poverty in Africa and try to help in some way, like she did with her project. But to really put herself in the shoes of people who suffered was something completely different. And that’s what seemed to be happening as she was reading Sara’s journal. Laura felt as if she was moving closer and closer to Sara’s life – closer to Sara. This wasn’t a novel and it wasn’t a history textbook. The words on the page were real; the lives were real.
‘Okay, this one, or this one.’ Nix held two dresses up in front of her. ‘I kind of like the silver one because it would be great with your dark hair. But the red one is kind of cute as well.’
Laura didn’t answer. Her mind was somewhere else, thinking about the life of the girl in the diary. I wonder how much Sara thought about shopping for new clothes? Or was she only worried about food and her family?
‘Hey! Snap out of it!’ Nix interrupted Laura’s thoughts.
‘Huh? What? Oh, sorry. I guess I’m just not in the mood to shop. I can’t explain it.’
Nix eyed Laura closely. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ she asked, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder and flashing her cool blue eyes. ‘You look like you’ve just been grounded for not getting an A on your history test or something like that. You’ve got your mom’s credit card in your hand and a building full of clothes. What could be better? I’m trying to help you here, but you’ve got to work with me.’
‘I know. You’re right.’ Laura shook her head and focussed on the dresses that Nix was holding out in front of her. ‘I’m thinking something in blue would be better,’ she finally said. Blue! Like how I’m feeling. Those thoughts she kept to herself.
Nix smiled. ‘That’s better,’ she said. ‘Let’s find the bluest, most beautiful dress ever.’
Laura laughed and smiled fondly at her friend. Nix was right. There were wonderful things going on in Laura’s life. And she wanted to take the time to enjoy them. By the time Laura got home from the mall she was exhausted but happy. She had found the perfect dress. It was deep blue with thin spaghetti straps and a taffeta crinoline underneath the wide skirt, which flared whenever Laura twirled. Her mom nodded approvingly. But as Laura took off the dress and hung it carefully in her wardrobe, her eyes fell upon the journal lying on the small table next to her bed. And once again, she felt her mood shift.
Laura moved toward her bedside table and picked up the diary, turning it over in her hands, and then opening it to the place where she had finished reading the night before. The next entry was brief.
Deena used up the last of her drawing paper today. She drew a group of children standing in the middle of the street. They were begging for food, but they were smiling at the people rushing past them. Can you imagine that? Starving children who are smiling! Deena said she wanted to capture those smiles in her drawing. When she finished, she closed her sketchpad, removed her glasses, looked at me, and said, ‘That’s it. I think I’ve drawn my last picture.’ Deena stared at me. Her eyes were blank and dull. ‘What am I going to do now?’ She whispered that part as if all the joy in her life was gone. I’m afraid that Deena thinks that if she can’t draw, then what else is there to give her life meaning? I didn’t know what to say to her. I’m going to search for paper. I’m going to tear out the back blank pages of some of my books. I know how important it is for Deena to draw. That’s what makes her smile.
Children begged for food in the ghetto.
It broke Laura’s heart to read this short passage, to realise that something as small as drawing paper could be so important in the world in which Sara was living. Laura realised that she was beginning to think of Sara as a friend. She even imagined that she looked a bit like Sara; they both had dark hair and eyes. And Laura had the same annoying freckles across her nose that Sara described. Laura’s phone rang and she moved to her desk to answer it.
‘Wasn’t that the best time?’ Nix’s voice was bubbling over with excitement.
Laura was so preoccupied with the diary that for a moment, she had no idea what Nix was referring to.
‘I mean, what could be better than shopping all afternoon? Hey, do you want to come over? I can make popcorn and we can watch TV.’
Laura closed her eyes and took a deep breath before answering. ‘No, I don’t think so. I’ve still got homework to do, and I just want to read a bit more of this diary.’ Why was there this growing irritation in the pit of Laura’s stomach?
There was a long moment of silence on the other end of the phone. When Nix finally spoke, her voice was cool. ‘I thought you didn’t care about this whole twinning thing.’
‘I didn’t. But something’s got to me since I started to read Sara’s journal.’ Why didn’t Nix get that? ‘Forget it,’ said Laura. ‘I’ve got to go.’ She hung up the phone and stared down at the diary. Why was it suddenly so difficult to talk to Nix – to explain to her how she was feeling? It was frustrating to discover that Nix couldn’t seem to grasp the importance of all of this. Laura didn’t want to start a fight but it was beginning to feel as if she and Nix were talking two different languages. It was always the differences between herself and Nix that made them great friends. But there was a growing divide here. Laura was beginning to feel as if she was standing between two completely different worlds – two friends – and almost having to choose between them.