The Impossible Journey Read Online Free PDF Page B

courage. Let them arrest me, I thought. I wanted to go with Mama and Papa to wherever they were being sent. I did not let myself think of Georgi.
    I marched up to the door and entered the prison, where the same soldier, his cap still on the back of his head, his tunic still unbelted, sat at the entrance, scribbling on a piece of paper. When he looked up and saw me, he shot out of his chair.
    â€œYou have no business here! We had a call from Comrade Yakir. He said under no circumstances are you to be allowed here.”
    Taking a deep breath, I managed to get out, “I only want to see my mother for a moment.”
    â€œYou are too late. Your mother was shipped out to Siberia with a trainload of prisoners this morning.”
    â€œBut my papa. Where is he? Can I see him?”
    The soldier’s face became hard as a plank of wood. “No” was all he said, but his way of saying it made me hold on to the desk to keep from sinking to the floor. I felt tears start up.
    When he saw my tears, the soldier said in a kinder voice, “Your papa is alive. Now, quickly, get out of here and nothing will be said.” His voice hardenedonce again. “If you are not gone in sixty seconds, I’ll call Comrade Yakir, and you will find yourself in prison.” He reached for the phone.
    I turned and fled.
    I did not know where to go with my worry over Papa. I could not tell Mrs. Zotov, who would only scold me for going to the prison. Sleepwalking, I turned toward school. It was nearly noon when I warily opened the door to my classroom. At the sight of me, the whole class became quiet. Comrade Tikonov stared coldly at me.
    â€œSo, here is our little troublemaker. Here is the girl who would destroy the revolution and all the great work Comrade Stalin has done. You honor us with your presence rather late in the day. No doubt you have been lolling about in the palace having coffee with the tsar and his family—that is, if they have risen from their graves.” At this she gave a cruel laugh. “As you see, your desk is where you put it last week, and there it will stay. As long as you are in this room,I will see that no other pupil will have anything to do with you. It is people like you who are responsible for Comrade Kirov’s death.”
    I ran from the school. Out on the street I buttoned my coat against the cold and pulled my cap down over my ears. I didn’t care about missing school. We had to spend hours learning the speeches of Comrade Stalin. All the books I loved most were forbidden. We studied only Russian scientists. It was Mama and Papa who read to us from the forbidden authors and taught us about the great scientists from other countries.
    I wandered along the prospekt, past the Kazan Cathedral and the old Stroganov Palace, past the students selling their paintings, past the women sweeping up the snow. Someone called out, “Marya!”
    There was Mr. Zotov with his cap pulled down over his ears and his coat collar turned up against the cold, stamping first one foot and then the other. Russ prowled about at the end of his leash, the wind ruffling his black fur.
    â€œWhy aren’t you in school?” Mr. Zotov asked.
    In my misery I poured out the truth. “My teacher hates me and shames me in front of the other students, and anyhow, I don’t learn anything.” After making my sad little speech, I saw how foolish I had been. When Mr. Zotov told his wife, she would be more sure than ever that I was a troublemaker. Now that she had all our things, she might turn Georgi and me out onto the street. Anxiously I asked, “You won’t tell Mrs. Zotov?”
    Mr. Zotov regarded me with narrowed eyes and a sly smile. “You are right to keep your little secret to yourself. I don’t believe my wife would want such a mischief-maker under our roof. I’ll tell you what: If you stand here and hold on to Russ while I warm myself in the café for a half hour, I’ll