The Orphan's Tale

by Pam Jenoff

policeman grabs the shoulder of my dress as I near, sharp nails cutting into my skin. I push him away, heedless as the fabric tears. I reach for Peter’s arm, but he shrugs me off. “Astrid, you can’t come with me,” he says in German, his voice low and terse. A large bump is beginning to form on his forehead where he was struck. “You need to stay here. You need to be safe.” “They’ll take you to the village jail. You’ll be back in a few hours,” I say, desperately wanting to believe it. “They’re just trying to scare us, send a warning. Soon you will be back...” “There’s no coming back,” he says before I can finish. “And you can’t wait for me here. You must continue on with the show. Do you understand?” His dark eyes seem to burn into me. “Promise me,” he says. But I cannot. “Enough!” the policeman who had struck Peter snarls, tearing us apart. I start to lunge at him, wanting to claw his eyes out. “Give me a reason,” he threatens. I pull back. I cannot make things worse for Peter. The police begin dragging Peter from the backyard toward an army box truck that has pulled up on the dirt road close to the edge of the big top. There is writing on the side in a Slavic language I do not recognize. A black police car sits in front of it. A driver emerges from the truck in a military uniform and opens the rear doors, revealing two long rows of benches inside. I understand then that it is all ending—he isn’t coming back. “No!” I cry, rushing toward the truck. Arms grab me from behind, ...