Authors: Joan M. Wolf
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The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. While the locations in Lidice, Czechoslovakia, Puschkau (the Nazis' name for Puszykowko), Poland, and Fürstenberg, Germany, are actual, events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes.
Clarion Books
a Houghton Mifflin Company imprint
215 Park Avenue South, New York, NY 10003
Copyright © 2007 by Joan M. Wolf
The text was set in 13-point Aldus Roman.
All rights reserved.
For information about permission to reproduce selections from
this book, write to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Company,
215 Park Avenue South, New York, NY 10003.
Printed in the U.S.A.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Wolf, Joan M., 1966â
Someone named Eva / Joan M. Wolf.
p. cm.
Summary: Taken from her home in Lidice, Czechoslovakia,
in 1942, eleven-year-old Milada is taken with other blond,
blue-eyed children to a school in Poland to be trained as
"proper Germans," then adopted by German families, but
all the while she remembers her true name and history.
ISBN-13: 978-0-618-53579-8
ISBN-10: 0-618-53579-9
1. World War, 1939â1945âEuropeâJuvenile fiction. [1.World
War, 1939â1945âEuropeâFiction. 2. Boarding schoolsâFiction.
3. SchoolsâFiction. 4. BrainwashingâFiction. 5. NazisâFiction.
6. EuropeâHistoryâ1918â1945âFiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.W819157 Som 2007
[Fic]âdc22 2006026070
MP 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3
AcknowledgmentsTo the children of Lidice, past and present,
and to Pat, who stepped into the darkness
to find the light
This book would never have been completed without the support and encouragement of many people, just a few of whom I would like to thank here.
Thanks to my family and friends who listened, encouraged, and helped in all steps along the way. As always, this includes Kathleen Keating and Jeanie Davis Pullen.
Thanks to the instructors in the Hamline University MFA program, who helped me find the words. A special thanks to Sheila O'Connor and Mary Rockcastle, gifted teachers and writers.
Thanks to Kate DiCamillo for her thesis insight, encouragement, and delightful sense of humor.
Thanks to Jennifer Wingertzahn, for her tireless work, amazing dedication, and incredible talent in helping to weave the pieces of the story into a complete whole.
Thanks to my agent, Ann Tobias, to whom the word "thanks" just doesn't say enough, for believing in the story and offering wise advice about all matters of writing and the writing life.
Unending thanks to Katarina Kruspanova, my guide and impromptu interpreter in Lidice, Czech Republic. And to Marie T011Blupilová, director of the Lidice Memorial Museum, who gave me so many valuable resources for this book and provided a lifetime of memories during my trip to Lidice. Sadly, Marie passed away unexpectedly only a few months after my visit. I hope I have done justice in this book to her work in Lidice.
And most of all, my thanks to Miloslava Suchánek-Kalibová, Jaroslava Suchánek-Skleni010Dka, Václav Zelenka, and Maru0161ka (Marie) Dole017Ealová-SupÃková, four extraordinary survivors of the events in Lidice on June 10, 1942. I thank you for taking me into your hearts and sharing your stories with me. I am awed and inspired by your courage.
My sincere appreciation to Michlean L. Amir, Reference Archivist at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C., and Dr. Teri Balkenende, adjunct professor of history at Antioch University in Seattle, Washington, who kindly read the manuscript for historical accuracy. Any mistakes, historical or otherwise, are my own.
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Frau Mrs. Fräulein Miss Herr Mr. Ja yes Kinder children Liebling darling Mutter mother Nein no Vater father
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the spring of 1942, when the soldiers came to our town, my best friend, Terezie, and I had spent every day together, as usual. It had been warm that May, the kind of warmth that comes only in the late spring, before it gets too hot or sticky humid. Our birthdays were just a month apart, and we would both be turning eleven. We had spent many nights together planning our parties and looking at the stars.
I could gaze at the stars forever, searching for their hidden pictures and watching them glitter like crystals. Papa said that even when I was a baby, I would reach up with both fists and try to grab them from the sky. Terezie didn't like stars as much as I did, but being my best friend, she usually joined me when I went outside to look at them.
One night, a week before my birthday, we were outside lying next to each other when there was a streak in the sky.
"Ooh, Milada, look!" Terezie leaned on one elbow and jabbed me excitedly. "A shooting star." A shooting star could only mean that something wonderful and special would happen soon.
"Make a wish, Terezie," I said, closing my eyes and thinking about what I should use my own wish for. I immediately thought of my birthday.
"I know why there's a shooting star. I know what's going to happen," Terezie said, as if she knew what I had been thinking. She had a way of doing thatâof always seeming to know my thoughts even if I didn't speak them out loud.
I looked over and saw that she had a grin on her face. "Is it about my birthday?"
Terezie's smile widened and she looked away with a giggle, hugging her knees to her chest.
"You know, don't you!" I grabbed her by the shoulder. "Terezie, you know what my birthday present is. Is it a real present? Oh, please, you must tell me!"
"I am sworn to secrecy." Her giggle became a big, hearty laugh, one that was loud and musical at the same time. That laugh was one of my favorite things about her.
I had known there probably wouldn't be a present for my birthday that May, even though I hoped differently. My babichka, my grandmother, might knit a scarf or mittens from yarn that she had saved, but since the Nazis had come to Czechoslovakia three years ago, everything had been scarce. I knew better than to hope for a present that cost money.
"Stop teasing, Terezie. Mama said there wasn't even enough sugar for a cake. How could there be a present?"
"You'll just have to wait until your birthday party to find out." She made a motion as if she were zipping her lips together, and refused to say anything more.
Ever since I could remember, Terezie's family and mine had come together each May to celebrate my birthday and then again each June to celebrate Terezie's. Even with the war and rationings, this year was to be no different. And so on a beautiful Sunday afternoon in the middle of May, everyone from both families gathered in our backyard for my party. I had even been allowed to invite Zelenka and Hana, two friends from school. But Mama had also made me invite Ruzha. Like Zelenka and Hana, she was in my class, but I did not consider her a friend. She was cold and unfriendly, and she could be so mean that even the boys were afraid of her.
"Oh, Mama, no! Please?" I had begged when Mama had insisted I invite her.
"If you want to invite others, you must include Ruzha. Things have been hard on her since her mother died."
"She'll ruin my party!" I had complained. But Mama had turned away, and I had known there would be no further discussion.
Now, as we all sat together, chatting and enjoying the beautiful day, Ruzha stood off to the side by herself. She wore a dress that she had nearly outgrown, and strands of her blond hair had come out of her barrette, falling into her eyes. She looked pained, as if she were counting the minutes until she would be dismissed. I sometimes felt that way during lessons, but never at a party. Ruzha seemed to like school, and she was a good student. But she was never the teachers' pet. The teachers, too, seemed to tire of the way she always found faultâwith others and with them.
"Happy birthday, Milada!" Mama said as Papa placed a large wrapped package in my lap.
"Oh, Papa, a present!" I looked at Terezie, and she winked. Babichka, stood nearby holding my one-year-old sister, Anechka, who gurgled and stuck her fingers in her mouth.
Terezie and her two older brothers crowded close as I began to rip open the package. Suddenly, a hand appeared on top of mine.
"Jaro!" I yelled. My fifteen-year-old brother, Jaroslav, was forever pestering me. "Stop it!"
But when I looked up at him, there was a softness in his eyes. "Guess what's inside, Milada," he said. "You have to guess before you open it. That makes for good luck." For a moment it was as if I was a little girl again, when he would push me on the swing instead of constantly tormenting me, and I smiled.
Following his directions, I closed my eyes. "I think it's a doll," I teased. "Like the one I used to sleep with every night." That doll, affectionately named Mrs. Doll, still sat, ragged and torn, on a shelf in my room. Jaro constantly threatened to throw her in the trash when I wasn't looking.
Jaro let out a deep laugh. Hana and Zelenka laughed too, and I even saw a smile flicker across Ruzha's face as she watched from a distance.
Then I tore the rest of the paper from the gift, lifted the lid of the box, and sat staring at what lay inside, my mouth open in awe.
"Do you like it, Milada?" Papa asked.
"Oh, Papa." I could barely speak.
Inside the box was a telescope. The small dent on one side told me it was a used telescope, but it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
"I know you like the stars. Now that you are eleven, I felt you were old enough for the responsibility of your own telescope."
"Oh, Papa!" I repeated. I put the box aside and grabbed his neck in a hug.
"I'm so glad you like it. So glad," he said, patting my shoulder.
"Here, Milada." Terezie withdrew a small wrapped package from her dress pocket. "This is for you. Happy birthday."
"Oh, Terezie. You weren't supposed to," I said. Mama had made it very clear that there were to be only family gifts.
Terezie glanced at Mama, then at me. "Well, we're practically sisters," she said.
"Thank you," I said, unwrapping the package and unfolding what was inside. It was a hand-made movie poster. Terezie had pasted one of her movie-star photos in the middle and drawn decorations around it to make a poster like the ones that hung in the theaters. The photo was one of her favorites. It was a true gift.
"I made it myself." Terezie blushed.
"It's perfect," I said, hugging her hard.
"Dessert, everyone!" Mama announced, holding up a pan of my favorite berry dessert.
"Mama, where did you get the sugar?" I asked.
"Terezie's mother gave me some of her rations," she answered.
I looked at Terezie's mother, who smiled. "Thank you," I said. I looked around at all the people at the party. They had helped make it a special day. "Thank you, everyone."
The partly used candle from Anechka's first birthday had been lit and placed in the middle of the pastry, so it looked a little more like an actual birthday cake. I made a wish, blew out the candle, and watched Mama cut small pieces for everyone.
I took a bite, enjoying the mix of tangy fruit and sweetened dough. As we ate, the adults gathered in a group, and, as usual, their conversation turned to the topic of Hitler.
"The dessert is delicious," Papa said to Mama. Then, turning to Terezie's mother, he added, "It was so generous of you to give us your sugar rations."
"It's the least I could do," she said. "We all have to do what we can while Hitler and his Nazis are here."
"Hitler!" Babichka said sharply, then spit on the ground as she always did after speaking his name. "He is evil!"
"Mother," Papa said, touching her shoulder. "Things will improve. Don't upset yourself."
"Let's go by the tree and eat," I said to my guests. I hated seeing Babichka so upset, and I didn't want to hear about the war or spoil the good feelings of the day.
We settled on the ground under the huge tree in our yard. Even Ruzha joined us. I passed Terezie's movie poster around so everyone could get a closer look.