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blouse, and got my gym tunic from under the mattress, where I put it each night to keep the pleats in.
    Getting dressed for the execution, I thought, and then suddenly I remembered. I had to go to Nursie’s dispensary this morning after breakfast. I didn’t dare skip it. It was as much as your life was worth to ignore an order from Nursie. I’d hurry and hope I was first in line. Then I’d take whatever Nursie gave me and gulp it down fast.
    Lizzie Mag was at my door.
    â€œComing,” I said as I finished knotting my tie.
    â€œI was thinking, if Miss Müller has been caught, we don’t have to plan on watching her. Most likely she won’t be around to watch.” Lizzie Mag gave me a frightened glance.
    I nodded.
    We hooked arms and joined the others tramping up the corridor to the dining room just the way we did every morning. But this wasn’t like every other morning.
    Now we could see the boys coming toward us from their wing. A bunch of teachers in their floating black university gowns stood as usual at the dining-room doors. You would think nothing out of the ordinary had happened. No air raid, no bombs, no possible spies at Alveara, no kissing in the shelter.
    â€œBoys to the left, girls to the right. Boys to the left, girls to the right,” the teachers chanted as usual. And as usual they kept a close watch for love notes being passed. Outside the dining room was a favorite note-passing place.
    Today I didn’t see a single letter being confiscated. Actually, nobody had had time to write one, as we’d all had other things on our minds. We went to our places at the tables and stood behind our chairs with our hands folded and our eyes closed.
    Mr. Atkinson said grace, and our voices joined in. “Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus Dominus Deus,” we chanted.
    I glanced through my half-closed eyes at Miss Müller standing in her place at the head table with the other women teachers. Old Rose never appeared at breakfast. She said she meditated at the start of each day, but we knew for a fact she was just taking an extra hour in bed, probably snoring her brains out like Maureen.
    Miss Müller looked pale and tired. Her dark-red lipstick matched the dark-red suit she wore under her black gown. Her eyes were closed. She must have known how we felt about the Germans this morning. And that almost everybody here detested her. Did she know about the sensation that was coming? She must. I glanced at her again. The muscles in the sides of her neck were tight. Maybe her teeth were clenched.
    After grace and before we sat down, Mr. Atkinson gave a small P.S. of thanks that we had sustained no injuries last night, and prayed for those who had.
    â€œAmen,” we chanted.
    Our chairs scraped across the floor as we pulled them out. We had place lists that changed every month, so we had to sit where we were told to. Ada said we’d have lists for our funerals when the time came. This month my back was to the boys and I had to depend on Lizzie Mag for commentary on Ian. Today we didn’t even mention him, though. There were too many other things going on, which was sad, because a girl’s first kiss should never be overshadowed by anything.
    The maids came up from the kitchen carrying the trays filled with the thick slices of bread and margarine, the big white jugs of milk, and the boiled eggs in their shells.
    I poured milk for all those around me, the way I always did. I loved milk when I was at home, but I didn’t like it here. It smelled of the dishcloths they used in the kitchen when they washed the jugs. Ada said the best thing to do was not to breathe when you drank.
    There was a sudden sharp little scream from farther up the table.
    â€œIt’s Carol Murchison,” Ada said, craning her neck. “What’s wrong with her?”
    Carol was a prefect in Goldilocks. We all leaned forward and watched as she shoved back her chair and stood, her hands pressed to