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the front with, ‘Isabelle, my love!’ on his lips. And brokenhearted, you die here—of consumption, naturally.” Camille leaned back and coughed softly. She put a hand to her heart and fluttered her eyes closed.
    “Cami, you goat!” Isabelle pinched her friend as everyone erupted in laughter.
    When the group quieted, Simone took Eva’s hand and looked into her eyes. “And Eva, for what do you long?”
    Eva shrugged. “For nothing so romantic, I guess. I feel restless. I just want to get on with it.” Her eyes opened wide, as if she’d startled herself saying all that. “Whatever it is.”
    No one asked Françoise what she felt. Good thing, for icy fear froze her tongue.
    Just when Eva had given up on a birthday celebration, Françoise pulled her away from the others. “If only we could get back to the dormitory,” she whispered. “I have gifts for your birthday hidden there, and you must have them now, in case something dreadful happens.”
    Eva took Françoise’s hands in hers. “We could sneak back there. Sister E. won’t return for a few minutes, and she won’t notice us gone when she does. The next time the others rush to the window, we’ll slip out together. How about it?”
    Within five minutes the pair were creeping into the deserted dormitory.
    As they sat together on her bed, Eva said, “Your idea to come here is the best birthday gift. Breaking rules—it’s the best antidote for boredom.”
    Françoise beamed. “But the plan was yours, Eva.” She turned serious. “Being here with you is wonderful for me, too. It’s like we’ve stepped back in time to a safe world, far from the claustrophobia of the vault and the silliness of the classroom. A world where I don’t expect grim-faced soldiers with rifles and bayonets to burst through the door. One where rumors aren’t passed from girl to girl like influenza. Where, for a moment at least, fears for my family can evaporate like beads of water on a hot stove. Where I can simply celebrate a best friend’s birthday.”
    Bathed in a shaft of golden sunlight streaming in through the window, Eva opened her gifts: A tin of candied apricots, a copy of Rostand’s Cyrano de Bergerac , a pair of silk stockings from Françoise’s father’s shop in Brussels. The pair sang a birthday duet, ate sugared fruit, and promised always to be best friends, no matter what.
    There was a thud, perhaps the slam of a door. Eva saw fear flicker in Françoise’s eyes. “Françie, we’re sharing my birthday. Caspar is safe. We’ve got excitement. It’s not so bad.” She took Françoise’s hand. “Look, we’re all afraid. That’s uncertainty for you. But it’ll be fine in the end. No matter what army marches in. It may mean a few new rules. The kings, the prime ministers, the chancellors—their lives will turn upside down. But we’re little people, leaves riding a stream. We go from still water to rapids, from eddies to falls, drifting along without trouble—unless we fight the current.”
    Françoise forced a smile. “Eva, we are little people, you and I, but I’m not only that. As a Jew, I know if it’s the German army that marches here, there’ll no place for me.”
    Eva squeezed Françoise’s hand. “I’ll concede Herr Hitler won’t have you over to dinner. But who wants his old schnitzel and sauerkraut anyway?” Eva grinned. “Life won’t turn black. Like I said, there will be new rules. But so what? It’s no big deal. Be that leaf in the stream! Don’t resist the current.”
    Françoise was silent for a moment, as if reluctant to reply. “Sweet Eva. Always wanting to help. Always so wise.” She paused. “Almost always. Eva, I’ll never have a truer friend than you. But I don’t think you understand how different things would become for the two of us. Hearing you now, I can only think of what my father says, The only fish that swims with the current is the dead fish.” Françoise shuddered. “We should get back.” She sounded