of little children. Women who work in hospitals are called sisters. Your doll is dressed like a sister.”
“No kidding!” said Molly. “That’s great! I’ve always liked to pretend Katharine is my sister, and now it turns out she really is!”
Emily looked confused. She never understood when Molly said something silly just to be funny. “She isn’t your sister. She’s a sister,” Emily said.
“Oh, well,” said Molly. “Whatever you call her, she’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
“Very nice,” said Emily coolly. She handed the doll back to Molly.
The first day Emily came to school, all the girls asked her lots of questions. They loved her English accent. “She sounds like a movie star, the way she says ‘how do you do’ and ‘rah-ther,’” said Alison Hargate.
All morning long, everyone tried to imitate the way Emily talked. Emily herself didn’t say very much. At lunch, Molly sat next to Emily. She tried to include her in the conversation. During recess, Susan asked, “Was your house ever bombed, Emily?”
Emily said, “No.”
Susan kept on. “Did you ever see other houses being bombed?” she asked.
Emily didn’t answer right away. Finally, she said, “Yes.” Everyone waited for her to say more.
“Well? What was it like?” asked Linda. “Was it exciting?”
Emily looked frosty. “I don’t remember,” she said.
“Gosh, how could you forget a thing like that?” asked Susan.
Emily shrugged.
There was a chilly silence. Finally, Molly said, “Come on! Let’s play jump rope.” They all moved into the sunshine.
After a few days, everyone more or less ignored Emily at school. She was so quiet it was an easy thing to do. No one said it, but everyone thought Emily was a disappointment.
“Well, at least she’s not a showoff,” Linda pointed out. “I was afraid she’d expect all of us to make a fuss over her. I thought she might be stuck-up, but she’s not.”
“No,” sighed Molly. “She’s nice enough, I guess. She’s just so…”
“Quiet,” whispered Linda. Everyone giggled.
The girls were walking home from school under trees that were green with new buds. It was one of those tricky spring days that starts as winter in the morning and ends up as summer in the afternoon. Molly had her sweater tied around her waist. Susan had her jacket completely unbuttoned and her arms out of the sleeves. She was only wearing the hood, so the rest flapped behind her like a cape. Linda was the only one still wearing rubbers and a hat.
“Emily even brushes her teeth quietly,” said Molly.
“Where is she now?” asked Susan.
“Mom is taking her to see her aunt in the hospital. Then they’re going shopping. She has to get some sneakers, only she calls them ‘plimsolls.’ It’s one of her weird English words.”
“Plimsolls?” said Linda. She pinched her nose and said in a hoity-toity voice, “Oh, deah! My plimsolls smell simply dreadful.”
“I don’t think that’s very nice, Linda,” said Susan. “Did you ever think that maybe Emily is quiet because she doesn’t like sounding so different? Or maybe it’s because she doesn’t know the American words for things. Of course, I still think she’s quiet because she’s weak and starving. She needs food.”
“Mom gives her plenty of food,” said Molly. “But she likes strange things like sardines. She doesn’t like normal things like cake.”
They all tried to imagine not liking cake.
“What kind of cake are you going to have at your birthday party?” asked Susan.
“Mrs. Gilford is going to make that vanilla cake without eggs or butter or milk. She’s saved enough sugar rations and chocolate to make frosting,” said Molly.
“Yummm,” said Susan. “My favorite. If Emily doesn’t want her piece, I’ll eat it.”
“Okay,” laughed Molly, “we’ll share it.”
“Talking about cake makes me want some right now,” said Susan. “Let’s go see if Mrs. Gilford has any.”
But Mrs. Gilford said it was too close to dinnertime for any snack other than carrot sticks, so the girls munched their way down to the bomb shelter to play.
Emily and Mrs. McIntire came home just as the rest of the family was sitting down to dinner. “The days are getting longer,” Mrs. McIntire said cheerfully. “Spring is here. Doesn’t someone in this family have a birthday in the spring?” she asked with a smile.
“I do!” said Molly. “My birthday is only a few weeks away.”
“Have you decided what kind of party you want this year?” asked her mother.
“I haven’t decided yet,” said Molly. “I’ve been thinking about it and—”
Suddenly, a loud, shrill siren screeched.
“Hurray!” said Ricky. “A blackout!” He jumped up from the table. Emily shrank back in her seat.
“Oh, dear,” sighed Mrs. McIntire. “A surprise blackout. All right, everyone, let’s get going. Jill, you close the blackout curtains. Ricky, turn off all the lights. Molly and Emily, you take Brad downstairs. I’ll get some blankets and be right down.”
Molly was halfway to the stairs with Brad when she realized Emily wasn’t following her. She was sitting at the table, as still as a stone.
“Come on, Emily,” said Molly. “Hurry up!”
Emily didn’t move.
Molly spoke louder. “Emily, you can’t just sit there. It’s a blackout. We all have to go downstairs. We have to hurry.”
“Don’t be scared, Emily,” said Brad. “No bombs will come. This is only pretend.”
Molly looked hard at Emily. Was Brad right? Was that the problem? Was Emily scared? She certainly looked scared. Her face was white. Molly’s voice softened. “It’s okay, Emily,” she said. “It’s just practice, really. I promise.”
Emily didn’t say anything. But she got up from the table and followed Molly downstairs.
“We have these blackouts every once in a while,” Mrs. McIntire said to Emily when everyone was gathered in the basement. “They’re a drill for us. There’s not much chance of being bombed here, but we want to be ready just in case. So we practice turning out all the lights in town, so no one could see our houses from an airplane. But I imagine you know all about blackouts.”
Emily was sitting in the darkest corner of the basement, a little apart from everyone else. Even though it wasn’t cold, Emily was wrapped up in a blanket. Molly went over to sit next to her. She couldn’t see Emily’s face.
“Sometimes they tell us beforehand about the blackouts. Then Mom makes a thermos bottle of hot chocolate…” Molly stopped. She saw that Emily was shivering. “Emily? Are you okay?” she asked.
Emily sniffed. Molly realized she was crying. “What’s the matter? Are you scared?”
Emily shook her head no. “I hate this,” she said suddenly. Molly sat very still and listened. “I hate sitting in the dark, waiting. In England, back during the Blitz, almost every night we had to do this. You’d hear an awful