“You’ll make it out,” I promised, even though I could not possibly know for sure. “I’ll hold on to it for you until you do.” I took the necklace from her reluctantly, its weight feeling heavier than it should have in my hand. Jewish valuables were contraband and required to be turned over to the authorities. If I was discovered, I would pay with my life. But I took it. “I promise to keep it safe.”

Seemingly satisfied, she started to lower herself into the watery prison, clutching the potato sack. “Be careful,” I urged. I hung on to her as long as I could, and was nearly pulled underground myself. Then when I could hold on no longer, I released her back into the earth once more. She turned her face upward to me one last time.

“Thank you, Ella.” And then she was gone.

15

Sadie

I lowered myself sadly into the sewer, Ella watching from above. She replaced the grate and the wall formed between us once more. As I fell back into the darkness of the earth, it seemed like I was reliving the night that we had first gone into the sewer. Only this time, Papa was not here to catch me.

I made my way through the basin. Dirty water splashed around my feet, soiling the hem of the dress Ella had given me. I started down the tunnel, carrying the sack of potatoes. As I walked, I imagined Ella returning to her home, which was grander than anything I had ever seen. One day after the occupation had begun, Papa and I had walked past a fine apartment building (nowhere near as nice as Ella’s house) overlooking the Planty, the ring of parkland that separated Kazimierz from the city center. I was surprised to see a well-dressed woman walk from an elegant black car into the building carrying several shopping bags. “How do they still live like that?” I marveled. Papa explained later that the only people who still lived like that were those who collaborated with the Germans. Ella’s family were those people. Her stepmother was seeing a Nazi. Her family had stood by while we had been taken, perhaps even profited from it. I should hate her, I thought angrily.

But I was also confused: Ella was the same girl who had come faithfully to the sewer almost every Sunday, bringing food and gifts and, more importantly, talking to me. She had risked her own safety to hide me and help me, to help my mother and the Rosenbergs. Without her, we all would have starved. Despite her family and the differences between us, she was a good person—and my friend.

As I neared the chamber, I walked more quickly, the potato sack bumping awkwardly against my leg. It was not just that I was eager to share the spoils of my mission with the others. It was morning now; in another few minutes, Mama would wake up and find me missing.