“You’ll never guess what I got today,” Hania said.

“Seven boxes of German chocolates and three bottles of the finest champagne after striking a bargain with Kommandant Höss himself.”

“Oh, of course. Kommandant Höss always breaks his sacred rules, so he would be the one to barter with a prisoner, wouldn’t he? And a female Jew at that.” When I laughed, she smirked before continuing. “Since I don’t have chocolates or champagne, now my earnings are going to sound much less impressive, so thank you for that. I got a comb, three toothbrushes, cigarettes, matches, and aspirins.”

“That’s almost as good as champagne and chocolate.” The taste of chocolate lingered in my mouth, melted against the heat of my tongue. The tantalizing craving was unbearable. It was my own fault for teasing. “Last week, I translated a few men’s letters into German, so I collected bread, lye soap, and a sausage,” I said as we made another right, passing between Blocks 18 and 19. “And Mateusz sent us bread from the bakery.”

Thoughts of my discreet exchanges with Mateusz always made me wish I could write to Irena. Official camp letters were permitted not as a kindness, but simply as a Nazi ploy to reassure family and friends who received them from deported loved ones—or sometimes from loved ones who were already dead, though those at home were unaware. To maintain the scheme, each letter was censored, so if I wrote, I couldn’t tell her the truth of my situation or share fond memories of our resistance work. Besides, it would have been foolish to put her name before those in the censorship office. What if they investigated everyone and discovered her resistance involvement? The risk of exposing her was too great.

“Time to warm up, shikse,” Hania said as she took another right toward Block 14.

“That means ‘a Gentile girl or woman,’ but isn’t it an insult? Consider me offended.”

“No need to teach me my own language.” Hania gave me a light shove while I giggled through chattering teeth. “We’ve been out here long enough, and I have to meet—” She stopped, but I grabbed her arm to make her face me.

“Protz?” I shouldn’t have bothered asking. I knew the answer.

“Don’t give me that look, Maria. I won’t tolerate people who kvetsh about repaying favors, myself included. And while we’re on the topic of favors, do you need more medication?”

I shook my head. I’d had a fever for the past few days, but I refused to visit Janina in the camp hospital or miss work. Going to the hospital was one step closer to the crematorium. Hania had gathered medicine and additional helpings of soup, so my fever had broken this morning.

“You have a right to kvetsh about letting that paskudnik touch you,” I muttered.