It was odd being friends with a boy I wasn’t certain I’d see again, a boy who could have been my friend in Warsaw. If things had been different, we would have met our friends at the movie theater, ridden our bicycles through town, talked about our families, and shared our dreams for the future. Instead Mateusz had the freedom to do those things—or as much freedom as the occupiers permitted—while I wasn’t sure I’d survive one day to the next.

“Maria.”

The unfamiliar voice reached my ears the moment I left my block. Aside from Father Kolbe and Hania, no one called me by anything other than my prisoner number. The man who had spoken motioned for me to follow him into the alley between Blocks 15 and 16. I obeyed, but I closed my hand into a fist. It was never a good idea to follow a strange man into an alley.

Even among prisoners, it was difficult to know who could be trusted. When he paused and faced me, I studied his appearance. Red triangle, capital P, Prisoner 4859. Thin, but strong. Square jaw, slight cleft in his chin. Narrow nose, and the eyes on either side were as clear and blue as a cloudless sky, but sharp as ice, watching me beneath thick blond brows. Impeccable posture, scrupulous gaze, much like my father’s. Perhaps he was a military man, too.

After this inspection, I felt better, but I kept my distance. “How do you know my name?”

“I heard you tell Fritzsch during your flogging,” he replied. “When that priest volunteered to die in place of another man, you created quite a scene.”

“Father Kolbe is my friend.”

“Surely you knew begging for his life would get you punished.”

“At the time, I wasn’t thinking.”

He smiled. Maybe he saw through my lie. “I’ve watched you play chess, and I’ve kept an eye on you outside of those public displays, too. You seem to be a smart girl. Very prudent. Not one to react without thinking.”

“It’s difficult to be prudent when your friend is sentenced to death.”

The man nodded. “Indeed. It’s even more difficult to successfully manipulate Fritzsch.”

Even though I didn’t react, he stayed quiet, and I suspected he was waiting for the silence to goad me into a confession, one that would confirm the accuracy of his assessment. I wouldn’t tell him anything. If he knew he was right, he might tell Fritzsch, and if Fritzsch discovered my actions were intentional he’d never fall for a provocation from me again.