The question alleviated the knot slightly. When we’d moved to Birkenau, I’d brought my makeshift chess pieces along, and she had hardly finished the query before I jumped down from our bunk. I fetched the jewelry pouch from beneath a loose brick in the floor, where I kept it buried, and began setting up the game. I never said no to chess.

* * *

A few weeks later, I walked with my kommando to the basket-weaving workshop outside the camp grounds, where I’d been reassigned following the move to Birkenau. A cool morning breeze whipped around me while I tucked my last note from Mateusz into my pocket. Our covert letter exchanges became more difficult after the move, but we found ways to stay in touch. I hadn’t seen him since our first meeting, but, after my most recent correspondence, I hoped to change that. I worked among civilians now, and if I could convince him to join me I could enact the next phase of my plan.

Sure enough, I walked into the workshop, and there he was.

The gangly boy I remembered wasn’t so gangly anymore, but still the same as he stood among the civilian workers. His bright blue eyes scanned the prisoners filing in. The moment we were ordered to take our places, I hurried to sit beside him.

“You got my letter, Maciek,” I said with a smile, and he chuckled upon hearing the nickname. “And I can’t tell you how much better my workdays will be now that you’re here. Your parents don’t mind that you’ve left the family business?”

“I’ll help when I can, but they know I want to go to a university instead of owning the bakery. Assuming the Allies win and universities are reopened to Poles, I can put the money I make here toward my education.”

“And I hear making baskets is a necessary qualification for university acceptance.”

Mateusz laughed, then he stopped weaving long enough to look at me. “It’s good to see you, Maria.”

I hid my smile and pretended to be absorbed in my basket’s shape, though I’d hardly constructed enough for it to matter yet. “This doesn’t mean you’ll stop writing, does it?”

“Never.”

An SS man strolled by, so we fell silent. As I waited for the guard to move out of earshot, I cast a sideways glance at Mateusz, who was bent over his work. His movements were quick and deft, and he didn’t slow down as he watched the SS man pass from the corner of his eye. Once the guard was a safe distance away, Mateusz looked to me. I averted my gaze, though I hadn’t intended to stare, but the flutter in my stomach came from more than almost getting caught.