Aroooooooo!

  This time, I bolted upright. I felt the hot breath of the animal in my face, and I recoiled in terror that somehow it had tracked me down.

  I blinked, and looked around.

  No wolf.

  But I had heard a wolf, all right, and I shouldn’t have been surprised—the Mernuit forest was right next to the barn. Otherwise, Vivienne would not have been able to take her secret path to visit me each day. But was the howl I heard coming from an actual wolf, prowling in the woods outside the barn? Or was it a wolf in my dreams, haunting me and daring me to return to sleep so it could finish me off?

  Both wolves seemed very real to me. And I wasn’t willing to take my chances with either one.

  I lay awake for hours, staring up at the bats and waiting for morning to come.

  * * *

  —

  “How long did you have to stay in the barn?” asked Julian.

  “Well, in the beginning, I couldn’t believe I would survive up there for even a few weeks,” Grandmère told him. “Before long, though, I settled into a routine and accepted the fact that this was my life now—for however long I had to live that way.”

  Julian shook his head in apparent disbelief. “Did you ever get mad at Julien?” he asked. “Or, like, get jealous that he could come and go whenever he wanted, but you were just stuck there?”

  Grandmère considered Julian’s question for a moment. “I missed my life before, of course. But by the summertime, the barn had become my whole world. And Julien was the center of that world.”

  “Like a best friend?”

  She nodded eagerly. “Yes, but also more. He was my companion, my confidant, my co-conspirator. The two of us were like, you know, two peas in a pod.”

  A funny look crossed Julian’s face.

  “Did I say it wrong?” Grandmère asked with concern. Despite being bilingual, she sometimes got tripped up by English expressions. “ ‘Peas in a pod,’ no? By which I mean that we were the same.”

  “You said it right,” Julian assured her. “Sorry, it’s just—from the way you described him, I figured he was pretty different from you.”

  “He looked different from me,” his grandmother replied. “But inside? We were the same.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Summer 1943

  On the weekends, Julien would sometimes take Vivienne’s route through town and pay me a visit during the day. One steamy Saturday in August, Julien had come to see me and the two of us were passing the afternoon together in our usual manner. We had reached a comfortable new stage in our friendship, where we didn’t always need to be talking. It made me realize that the best friendships are the ones in which words are not needed. I was deeply engrossed in the book I was reading when a soft rhythmic sound caught my attention. I followed the sound to Julien, who was sitting on the opposite end of my hay mattress. He appeared to be sharpening a pencil or peeling an apple—I couldn’t tell which.

  “What are you working on?” I asked.

  “A slingshot,” he replied.

  “A slingshot?” I repeated with alarm. “What on earth would you use that for?”

  “Big game,” he replied, not looking up from his work. “For our next safari. One never knows when a rhino might charge.”

  “I thought we were going to visit a new planet next time,” I said, a smile dancing on my lips.

  “Good point. But those outer-space rhinos can be particularly fierce.”

  “I’ve heard that, too,” I said.

  “How’s the math homework going?” Julien asked.

  “Perfect. Fantastic. I finished it hours ago,” I lied, in the most obvious way.

  “Oh, really? That’s wonderful. Can I see?” he asked, calling my bluff.

  I flopped flat on the floor dramatically. “Ugh. This is just not fair. I don’t know why you’re making me do math in the summer. I’m terrible at it!” I gave him my best pout for full effect.

  “I’m not making you do it,” he pointed out patiently. “I’m encouraging you to do it, so you can keep up. For when—”

  “You mean if!” I interrupted, daring him to bicker with me.

  “When,” he repeated calmly, refusing to take the bait. “When you come back to school. Come on—math isn’t so bad. If you keep working at it, you’ll get it.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re a math genius!”

  Julien scoffed. “I’m not a genius! I just paid attention in class. You were always too busy doodling all those birds to pay attention.”

  “Wait! You saw my bird drawings?”

  “Of course, silly! I sat next to you for three years! How could I not notice what you were doodling?”

  I suddenly felt shy. My parents, friends, and teachers had often complimented my art, and their admiration added to the joy and pride I felt when I drew pictures. But a lot of my confidence and happiness had evaporated when Vincent looked at my sketchbook. It made me nauseous to remember his bitter words and how much they had upset me. I knew he was wrong, but his insult was like a seed that took root, sprouting little tendrils of self-doubt. Maybe I wasn’t a good artist? Maybe I wasn’t a good anything? I knew the Nazis weren’t right about me—they didn’t even know me! But deep inside I worried: What if they were?

  “Why did you always draw birds, anyway?” asked Julien, his innocent question bringing me back.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just like birds, I guess.” But something about the look on his face, genuinely curious and interested in me, made me say more. “I suppose it also has to do with…a game Papa and I used to play when I was little. It’s silly, really.”

  “Silly? Oh, now you have to tell me.”

  “You’re going to laugh. It was very childish,” I told him.

  “I won’t laugh,” he promised.

  “Well…” I hesitated, but when I looked into his eyes, it felt like I was looking through him, and through the hayloft, to another place. A place I knew very well: the fairy flower field of the Mernuit. And so I began to tell him about our game.

  “When I was a little girl, I would go for picnics with my parents in the forest every spring. There’s this spot my papa found, this little grove that’s just completely overgrown with bluebells. Have you ever seen that?”

  Julien shook his head.

  “Oh, I really hope you do someday. It’s the most magical thing! To me, it always felt like the forest floor had transformed into a sea of blooming purple overnight. I’d run around, pretending I was a fairy in an enchanted garden, and sing and dance. It was my favorite place.”

  For a moment I was swept up in the memory. I could almost feel the gentle spring breezes and the intoxicating floral scent of the bluebells. I saw Maman, setting out our lunch on the picnic blanket. And Papa, looking elegant and smart and gazing at me adoringly.

  “Every time we went there,” I told Julien, “we would play this game. We made it up, but it was so long ago that I don’t even remember when. We’d pretend that I was a little bird getting ready to fly.”

  I spread my arms wide, imagining my papa hoisting me above his head.

  “My papa would lift me up high. And he’d spin me around and say, ‘How high will you fly?’ ”

  I heard his voice, echoing in my head as I joined him, reciting both parts for Julien.

  “And I’d answer, ‘As high as the sky!’ ”

  I twirled in place, lost in the memory.

  “And my papa would ask, ‘How fast will you go?’ and I’d tell him, ‘As fast as a crow!’

  “And then he’d tell me, ‘Close your eyes…. Time to rise!’ ”

  I closed my eyes and spun some more, not wanting to come down from the sky…or back from the memory. Finally, I opened my eyes. The hayloft swam into view, and there was Julien. He was staring at me, a bemused grin on his face.

  “I told you it was silly,” I said, suddenly embarrassed. I had never told anyone about that.

  “Aww! Not at all. That’s completely charming!”

  I snuck a look at him to see if he was laughing at me. But he seemed sincere. “Yeah, I guess,” I said.

  “Perhaps your papa can make me fly someday, too,” suggested Julien.

  I smiled wistfully at that thought. Who knew if my papa would make anyone fly again? Even me.

  “Yeah, maybe,” I said, feeling my sadness return. “If I ever see him again.”

  “Don’t say that, Sara. You’ll see him again. I know it.”

  He was serious, which was reassuring to me. And for a moment, he had me convinced. Except I knew Julien was just a kid, like me. And even the adults, what did they know? Every day, I asked Vivienne for news about my family, but so far she had not produced even one crumb of information. It was as if they had disappeared, poof!, with the wave of a magician’s wand. But not a good magician; an evil one who had no intention of pulling them out of his hat with a flourish.

  So I asked, “How can you know?”

  Julien was unwavering. “I just do, that’s all. There are some things we know in our hearts. This is one of them. You will see your father again, Sara. I know it.”

  I sighed and sat down again. “I sure hope you’re right, Julien.”

  Julien went over to my books and selected a volume. “And because I know that day is coming, I know he’ll be very cross with me if I let you fall behind on your math.” He handed me the math book and took a seat near me. “So back to work, young lady!”

  “Ugh!” I groaned in weak protest. But inside I felt grateful. Grateful for normal things—even math, which I detested—to take my mind off my bigger worries. And grateful to have a friend who always found a way to make me feel better, no matter what. A friend who gave me hope when otherwise there would be none. A friend who brought light into my darkest of days.

  I kept wanting to tell him how much I appreciated him. It wasn’t just that he’d saved my life. He’d saved my very being. But every time I tried to rehearse what to say to him, the words seemed awkward and inadequate. Ultimately, I had to admit defeat. How could mere words possibly convey what Julien was starting to mean to me?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Fall 1943

  “Sara!”

  I sat up in surprise, ran to the hayloft’s edge, and peered down. “Julien? You’re here so early today! Is everything okay?” It was extra exciting to me because it was the fall, so Julien had just started back to school. I was eager to hear everything about his classes and my friends, but I had assumed I would need to wait until nightfall.

  He nodded, and I noticed that although he was balanced as usual on his crutches, both of his hands were behind his back. “I have a surprise,” he said. “Come down, and close your eyes. That is, come down with your eyes open. Then close your eyes!”

  “All right,” I said, lowering myself down to the haystack and onto the barn floor. I stood in front of him, grinning eagerly. I loved surprises! When Papa used to travel to give medical lectures, he would sometimes bring home what he called “little treasures” for me. Hair ribbons, and once a box of perfect pink macarons from Ladurée, a famous Parisian tea room.

  “Close your eyes and hold out your hands,” said Julien, trying to sound stern. “And no peeking!” he added.

  “I’m not peeking!” I told him. And I wasn’t, really!

  I felt him place something flat in my hands. A book? I was tempted to sneak a look, but before I could, Julien said, “Okay, now you can open your eyes.”

  I looked down at what I was holding.

  And gasped.

  “My sketchbook? Oh, Julien—” I was speechless. Talk about a treasure! I turned it over in my hands, marveling that it was indeed my book, which I had left behind along with my coat and boots and everything else on that awful day. I flipped it open and was rewarded with a flurry of my birds. They seemed as delighted to see me as I was to see them. “But—but how?” I finally asked.

  He shrugged like it was no big deal, even though I could tell he was pleased with my response. “I was in Pastor Luc’s office today, and—”

  “Oh no! What were you doing in Pastor Luc’s office?” I asked with concern. Pastor Luc rarely called students into his office. When he did, it was usually because they had misbehaved. That didn’t sound like Julien, but I worried nonetheless.

  “Nothing bad,” he assured me. “He just wanted to tell me that they’re moving me up to advanced mathematics this year.”

  “Julien, that’s wonderful! Congratulations!”

  “Thanks! That’s what Pastor Luc said.” He pulled himself up to his full height on his crutches and adjusted an imaginary pair of spectacles. “Congratulations, young man. You’ll be with the older students. They’ve already been told and know to welcome you.”

  “Thank you, Pastor Luc,” I told him, tipping a pretend cap in return. If Julien could play Pastor Luc, I could certainly play Julien.

  He grinned at my impression and continued to tell the story in his own voice. “So as I turned to leave, I noticed something familiar on Pastor Luc’s desk. I almost asked if I could have it—you know, I figured I could say it was something to remember you by?—but I immediately worried that would attract unwanted attention.”

  “You don’t think Pastor Luc is…?”

  Julien shook his head. “No, he’s not a Nazi. But you know our school. People talk. Word could get around, and we wouldn’t want that.”

  “That was smart of you,” I told him. “So how did you get it?”

  “Well, as you know, I often leave after everyone else. If people see me, they just assume it must be because I use crutches. They have no idea how speedy I am when I want to be.”

  I smiled. “I’ll admit it. Before I got to know you, I had no idea you were a race car driver.”

  Julien looked pleased. “Yes, well, this time it was an advantage to have people think I’m a slowpoke. I waited until everyone had gone home for the day; then I snuck into Pastor Luc’s office. I tucked your sketchbook into my shirt and carried it all the way home.”

  “My hero!” I said, and I meant it.

  “I’m glad it makes you happy. I knew it would! I was so excited to bring it to you, I came straight here.”

  I glanced out one of the boarded-up windows nervously. “But…Julien, it’s not quite dark out yet. What if someone saw you?”

  “I was careful,” he assured me. “I took the forest path, like my maman always does. And when I got to the barn, I peeked around the front just to make sure. But the Lafleurs, for once, were not at their window.”

  “That was very brave of you.”

  “I can be very brave when the situation calls for it,” he said proudly.

  “Thank you,” I said. And I couldn’t help what happened next. I reached out and wrapped my arms around his neck in an appreciative hug. He seemed startled at first, but he hugged me back. I rested my head on his surprisingly strong shoulders and breathed in deeply. Hay, soap, and a touch of sweat, but not in a bad way. I wished I could tell my school friends how good he actually smelled. And how wonderful holding him felt.

  Time seemed to stand still for a moment. But I worried that I was being too forward, so I pulled back. Julien did as well.

  “Um…,” he said awkwardly.

  I looked down, suddenly feeling shy. My stomach was doing flips for some reason. “Umm…yeah, so thanks,” I said.

  “Sure.”

  Was it strange that I hugged him? Did I make him uncomfortable? I wondered. Think of something to say! I told myself. Something normal, to set him at ease again. “Uh…so I was—” I stammered clumsily.

  “Wait. Did you hear that?”

  Unfortunately, I did.

  “Shh!” Julien leaned in and cupped his hand around my ear. “Go back up to the loft and hide,” he whispered. “Don’t come out, no matter what. Hurry!”

  I scrambled up to the loft, wishing Julien had waited just a little bit longer before coming to see me. The darkness was closing in, but not fast enough. I jumped into my bed, covering my head with the blanket. A moment later, I sat up again. A person-sized lump in the bed? Too obvious! I looked around frantically, but my options were limited. The table had no cloth. There were barrels, but they were closed on both ends, so hiding inside one wouldn’t work. Finally, I spotted the only place that offered a chance of invisibility: the hay pile at the far end of the loft, beneath the rafters. This was the area I always avoided because of the bats. But I knew it was the most well-hidden. I dug myself a hole and quickly pulled the hay around me, obscuring my face and body. Then I wriggled until I got close to the edge of the hayloft. This way, I could remain hidden but have a decent view of the barn floor below. I wanted to wave to Julien to show him where I was and assure him that I was okay. But if I moved, I might knock the hay out of the way and ruin my hiding place.

  I stayed as still as I could and watched Julien from my perch. He glanced up in my direction, almost as if he knew I could see him. Then he went over to the car. Our magic flying golden chariot. I watched as he opened the hood and looked inside. It seemed like he was trying to fix the engine, which made no sense. The car didn’t even have four tires, and the ones it had were flat.

  But when I heard the voices again, I realized why he needed to pretend he was in the barn for a reason, like fixing the engine. The voices were getting louder.

  Whoever was outside the barn was coming inside.

  CHAPTER FIVE