Karol reached for me, so I lifted him into my arms and contained a gasp when his weight angered the bruises around my midsection. “Look,” he whispered. He pointed toward two soldiers who were shoving prisoners to hurry them along. “Bastards.”

I masked my laugh with a cough before adopting as stern an expression as I could muster. “Karol, don’t say that word.”

“That’s what Mama said when the guard pushed you, remember?”

I placed a finger over his lips and dropped my voice. “You’re right, but the soldiers will be angry if they hear you say so. Why don’t you and I keep it a secret?”

He nodded, seeming excited by the idea, and I kissed his cheek before putting him down and grabbing his hand. Zofia edged closer to me, eyes wide as she took in our surroundings.

“Where are we?” she whispered.

I readjusted my grip on my little chess piece and scanned the mass of bodies until I noticed a sign. “Oświęcim.”

The Germans called it Auschwitz.

As we followed the other Pawiak prisoners down the platform, the SS soldiers ordered the men to separate from the women and children. I gathered the hem of Tata’s wool jacket in my hands, but a shared glance between my parents settled my concerns.

“Would you allow us to stay together?” Mama asked the nearest soldier.

In response, the soldier spat at her feet, and Tata tensed. Mama grabbed his sleeve while the SS man looked us over with disdain.

“I don’t give a damn if you stay together or not. You’re going to the same place anyway,” he said. Something about the way he said it gave me pause, but I wasn’t sure why. “Move down the platform.” He shoved her in the proper direction before marching away.

Tata caught Mama’s arm without losing his own balance, and I rushed forward to stabilize them. Mama took Zofia’s hand and wrapped her arm around Tata’s waist while he picked Karol up.

“Stay close,” she said, and we kept going.

How was I supposed to stay close? Countless people swarmed around me, coming between me and my family as everyone lined up in rows. Thank goodness my father was tall. I focused on the back of Tata’s head and pushed toward him. As I fought the crowd, someone jostled me, and my tiny pawn slipped from my grasp.

I darted after it, shuffling around feet clad in oxfords and pumps and loafers until I almost collided with shiny jackboots. Gasping, I straightened and found myself standing before an SS officer.

He held my pawn between his fingers.

Somehow it hadn’t broken when it fell. He examined it while I waited for him to acknowledge me, but I wished he’d hurry so I could get back in line.