Free Between Shades of Gray by Ruta Sepetys Page A

steadily.
    “What are they saying?” I asked Mother.
    “They’re talking about their homes, where they’re from. They’re sharing stories of their friends and family,” she said.
    I didn’t believe her. I listened to the Russian words. The tone of their voices and the cackling laughter didn’t sound like talk of family. Ona began again. She had taken to chanting “No, no, no, no,” over and over. One of the NKVD stood up and yelled, flipping his hand at our group.
    “I better try to quiet her,” said Mother, getting up, “before the guards become angry.” Jonas was already asleep. I covered him with my blue raincoat and wiped his hair away from his eyes. The bald man snored. The gray-haired man wound his watch. Andrius sat at the edge of the group, one knee pulled to his chest, watching the guards.
    He had a strong profile, an angular jaw. A piece of his disheveled hair fell perfectly against the side of his face. I’d need a soft pencil to draw it. He saw me staring. I turned away quickly.
    “Hey,” he whispered to me.
    I looked up. Something rolled across the grass and hit my leg. It was the stone with the sparkles he had found that day when he jumped off the train.
    “The crown jewel from the train car princess,” I whispered, smiling.
    He nodded with a laugh.
    I picked it up to roll back to him.
    “No, you keep it,” said Andrius.
     
    We woke at sunrise. A few hours later a wagon came, chose the other group, and took them away. The guards then loaded us into the back of two trucks and drove us across the valley beyond the notch in the hills where a road began. No one spoke. We were too frightened to discuss our possible destination.
    Riding in the truck, I realized that trying to escape would have been ridiculous. There was nothing for miles. We didn’t see a human being or pass another vehicle. I thought about the man who had my handkerchief, hoping it was passed along, moving closer to Papa. After two hours we saw huts dotting the sides of the road. We entered what appeared to be an inhabited area, and the truck pulled over in front of a wooden building. The guards jumped out, yelling, “Davai! Davai!” and other instructions.
    “They say we should leave our luggage in the trucks,” said Mother, clutching her coat tightly over her arm.
    “I want to know where we’re going before we get out,” demanded Mrs. Arvydas.
    Mother tried to talk to the guards. She turned and smiled. “It’s a bathhouse.”
    We jumped off the truck. Mother folded her coat and put it in her suitcase. The guards split us into male and female groups.
    “Boys, carry me,” the bald man said to Andrius and Jonas. “You have to bathe me.”
    Jonas looked petrified, Andrius disgusted. I smiled, which seemed to annoy Andrius even more. The men went first. The guards called them up onto the porch and began yelling in their faces, pushing them. Jonas looked at Mother for translation.
    “Take off your clothes, dear,” Mother translated.
    “Now? Right here?” Jonas asked, looking at all the women and girls.
    “We’ll all turn around, won’t we, ladies?” said Mother. We all turned our backs to the porch.
    “No use in being modest now,” said Mr. Stalas. “We’re nothing but skeletons. Now take off my pants, boy. Ow! Watch my leg.”
    I heard Mr. Stalas complaining and Jonas apologizing. A belt buckle knocked against the wood of the porch. I wondered if it was Andrius’s. The guards yelled.
    “He says you must leave your clothes there, that they will be deloused,” Mother translated.
    Something smelled funny. I couldn’t tell if it came from our group of women or from the bathhouse. We heard the bald man yell from within the structure.
    Mother turned around and clasped her hands together. “My sweet Jonas,” she whispered.

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    WE WAITED. “What’s going on in there?” I said. Mother shook her head. Three NKVD stood on the porch. One barked yet another command.
    “Ten of us at a time,” said Mother.