Jews are not allowed to own or use telephones.

We can't have bicycles, either.

What's next?

Will we be forbidden to play ball?

To jump rope?

Mama goes on.

"If it gets too dangerous in Paris, Odette, you must go to a safe place in the country.

Cecile and Paulette and Suzanne will go with you on the train."

I like these girls.

They are friends of my family.

A train trip sounds like fun too.

But I could never go away and leave my mother!

"I want to stay here with you, Mama," I say.

"I don't care if it's dangerous."

"For now you will," says Mama.

She strokes my hair.

"For now, we will be together.

But we have a secret hiding place planned for you.

Just in case."

Mama tells me how I will get to the country ...

a lady she trusts will take me.

I hope "just in case" never comes.

My father is already gone.

I can't live without my mother!

The Raid.

Am I dreaming?

It's the middle of the night.

But I hear a thunder of footsteps on our staircase.

A fury of knocks at our door.

I'm awake, but too frightened to move, so I pretend to be asleep.

I listen in my bed while Mama stumbles to the door.

Soldiers burst in.

They say they are here to arrest Mama ...

and Papa too!

"M-m-my husband is a prisoner of war," Mama stutters.

"Look," she says. "Here are his letters."

All the while, the men bang open cupboards and drawers, searching for who-knows-what?

Just then, another voice.

Madame Marie arrives at our door.

"For shame," she scolds the men, "disturbing the home of a French soldier!

Don't you know the wives of prisoners are to be left in peace?"

"Excuse us," says the leader.

"There has been a mistake.

Your letters, Madame."

He and his soldiers stomp out.

"Marie," says my mother, her voice still shaking, "I have money and papers hidden here.

If they had found them...."

She never finishes her sentence.

Madame Marie soothes Mama.

"But they did not," she says, "and they never will.

We'll find a better place to hide your papers.

Thank God the child slept through this all."

Soon, Madame Marie leaves and our front door closes.

Mama comes back into the room we share.

She touches my shoulder ...

her hand is cold and trembles.

My heart pounds so hard I am afraid she might feel it right through my nightgown.

But Madame Marie said it was good that I was asleep, so I still pretend I am.

I hold Charlotte and keep my eyes shut.

At last Mama climbs back into her bed.

I lie awake for a long time in the dark.

I listen to the shuddery sound of her breath.

The soldiers didn't say anything about me.

If my father weren't a soldier, would they have taken Mama away and left me alone?

I don't know the answer to this question, and I can't ask anyone.

"Wake up, Odette," Mama calls in the morning.

"Time for school."

She irons my dress as usual, but her hands are still trembling, just a little, as she smooths it.

I put my dress on while it's still warm, and eat the bread and jam on my plate.

I look for my homework, but it's not where I left it.

Mama finds it with Papa's letters.

I don't ask how it got mixed up with them.

Mama pins back her hair and puts on lipstick.

She locks the door when we leave.

We both pretend it's just another day.

Trouble.

Soldiers slap posters up on the walls of Paris.

All Jews, aged six and older, must sew yellow stars on their clothes for everyone to see.

The only reason for this, it seems to me, is to make it easy to find Jews and make life even harder for them.

Mama and I go to the police station and get six stars ...

three for her and three for me.

"Can you believe they made me pay for these?"

she asks my godmother.

Madame Marie shakes her head.

Mama shrugs.

What can we do?

Madame Marie checks the stitching on my star before she sends me off to school the next day.

"Don't try to cover it up," she warns me.

"You could get into trouble for that!"

I creep along next to the buildings on my way to school.

My star is too bright.

It screams to everyone I pass, "See this girl?

She's a Jew!"

I clutch my schoolbag close to me.