“Why not? Potatoes don’t go bad.”

“Everything goes bad.”

“It’s still firm. That means it still has its nutrients.”

“You are some potato expert?”

“Are you?”

“Russians know potatoes.”

“I’m hungry, I’m keeping it. And look, I think that’s another basket over there.”

They crawled through the deeper darkness and discovered two baskets placed side by side, one containing carrots, the other turnips.

“Nice,” Jack said. “I love carrots.” He grabbed three. They had lost their rigidity and flopped. The tip of one had turned black. Still, he tucked them in his pockets, adding a turnip as well. He had to roll to his side to do this, and when he rolled back his shoulder pressed against hers. It seemed accidental. In fact, he didn’t even seem to notice.

“You’re like chipmunk,” she said, and blew out her cheeks to demonstrate what she meant.

“Some are for Rosa,” he said.

She pointed. “There’s another basket over there.”

“This is like Easter,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you have Easter in Russia?”

“Of course,” she said. “Easter is very important holiday.” Some of Elizaveta’s fondest memories of her pre-orphanage childhood were of saving yellow onion peels a month or two leading up to Easter day, which was always the first Sunday after the spring full moon. She and her mother would boil the peels with a half dozen eggs to turn the eggs a rich red.

Jack said, “What about the Easter bunny?”

She frowned. “What bunny?”

“The Easter bunny! On Easter morning it leaves a trail of chocolates all throughout your house, leading to a hidden Easter basket filled with a chocolate Easter bunny and chocolate eggs.”

“Are you making this up?”

“Maybe it’s an American thing…”

“It is definitely not a Russian thing.” Elizaveta thought about the monthly stipend she’d received from the state to attend college. It was supposed to be enough to cover all her living expenses, yet it was barely enough to purchase two large chocolate bars. And Americans sprinkled their floors with chocolates and ate chocolate bunnies and eggs?

“You’re supposed to follow your own trail so you can find your basket,” Jack went on. “But my sister and I always picked up the chocolates as quickly as we could, erasing the trail, so sometimes it took hours to find where our baskets were hidden.”

Elizaveta snorted. “What other stupid holiday traditions do you have?”

“Halloween was my favorite.”

“Yes, I know Halloween. You dress up like ghost or witch.”

“And go trick-or-treating.”

“What’s that?”

“You go around the neighborhood with a bag—I usually used a pillowcase—and knock on doors. Everyone gives you a chocolate bar or some other kind of candy. One year I think I filled up three pillowcases.”

“Three pillowcases full of candy? And strangers, they just give you this?”