We go back to our beds.

At first it's just once in a while, but then the bombers come more often.

Each time, it's down to the shelter we go again ...

until Mama hears about a building that collapsed.

People were trapped in the shelter underneath.

After that, we stay upstairs.

Finally, Aunt Georgette and Sophie can't take it anymore.

They have Christian relatives in the country.

They write a letter asking to stay with them.

Before long, the relatives write back.

Aunt Georgette and Sophie are welcome.

So they pack their things and hug and kiss us good-bye.

They go to hide with their relatives.

Mama and I are alone again.

Sophie leaves me some colored pencils as a going-away present.

I draw pictures of bombs falling on Paris, of parks with signs that say, NO DOGS OR JEWS ALLOWED, and of trains traveling far, far away.

What Dangerous Looks Like.

Everywhere we look now, we see soldiers in Paris.

Some strut past us, some thunder along on motorcycles.

Still others roar past in big cars.

They all wear huge black boots and stiff uniforms belted with shiny buckles.

Some have lightning bolts on their collars.

Mama says they are dangerous.

Most of them don't look dangerous to me.

They are young, blond men.

I see their blue eyes follow the pretty Parisian ladies.

The soldiers put up new street signs in German.

They take the nicest homes for themselves.

But they don't destroy Paris.

No, they stroll along the boulevards.

They eat juicy beefsteak and drink red wine in the sidewalk cafes.

They buy fine French perfume and pretty clothes to send home to Germany.

Some of the soldiers speak French.

They try to make friends with children.

They offer us candy.

"Don't take it," Mama warns me.

"Don't take anything from them, ever."

Lonely.

Aunt Georgette, Sophie, and Papa ... all gone.

One sad morning, I meet Jakob, a Jewish boy I know, on my way to school.

"I just got some toys from a cousin who left Paris,"

Jakob tells me.

"Let's go to my apartment and play with them."

I know I shouldn't skip school, but I need a new friend.

I go with him.

We have to be quiet and not turn on any lights, so the neighbors won't know we're there.

They would tattle to his mother, "Your son was playing at home while you were at work!"

Jakob shows me his new toys: trucks, tanks, airplanes, and lots of soldiers.

Some are German, some are French.

He lines them up on the floor.

"Do you want to be German or French?" he asks me.

"I'll be French," I say.

But I don't know how to play this game.

I make my soldiers do all the wrong things.

"Stupid!" Jakob says, taking my soldiers away.

"The French wouldn't fight like that."

He turns his back on me.

I wish I were at Madame Marie's!

She never calls me stupid.

If I were there now, I'd play with Charlotte, make her a shawl.

"I'm leaving," I tell Jakob.

"Close the door after you," he says.

He dives his airplane down at the Nazi soldiers.

"And don't make any noise."

I have escaped the war!

I'm free!

My Mistake.

I skip home through day-lit streets.

But when I run into our building and pull open the door of Madame Marie's apartment, I know I've made a big mistake.

Madame Marie's sharp eyes look at me in surprise.

She turns and checks the old wooden clock.

Too early, it says.

Too early for Odette to be home.

Shaking her head, Madame Marie puts a stool against the wall.

"Sit there," she commands me.

"Face the wall.

Don't look back."

I stare at the clock.

Its ticking goes on as though nothing has happened.

But Madame Marie, who loves to talk, says nothing.

Her silence is terrible.

I know I've done something wrong.

What if Madame Marie tells Mama?

After a long while, Madame Marie says, "What did I tell you the heart is like?"

"The heart is like an apartment," I tell her.

"And how often do you have to clean it and put everything in place?" she asks.

"Every single day, Madame Marie," I reply.

She picks up another sleeve, lines it up with her needle.

"All right then," she says, "clean up the mess in your heart.

Take a good look and see what needs to be done."

I do what my godmother tells me to do.