Chapter Thirteen
The fathers called it the “old fort.” Ilya had imagined it as gray and dusty, lined with garrisons of soldiers, and holes for shooting arrows from, like a castle in a story. But the fathers reassured the children in the train car that the fort had everything they’d need to start their new lives and return to normal. Schools and warm beds, gardens and libraries, parks and performance spaces. A synagogue. And great big strong walls all around it to keep them safe. It would be even better and safer than home. The other children believed it, because all children begin by believing their fathers. But Ilya saw the look on her father’s face when the other children looked away. The big smile and soft eyes he’d so naturally worn in the past were now like a costume mask, as if he c
