They said nothing until they were inside the latrine and Shayndel turned on the tap. “What did you find out about the German?” she asked, splashing her face with cold water.
“Leonie thinks she might be a Nazi,” said Tedi.
“What does Leonie have to do with it?”
“Her German is much better than mine, and it turns out that Lotte, or whoever she is, will talk only to Leonie. She calls her Claudette Colbert.”
“Why does Leonie think she’s a Nazi?”
“She says she saw an SS tattoo in the shower,” said Tedi and pointed. “Here, under the armpit.”
Shayndel frowned. “Did you see it?”
“No. She is trying to get another look to make sure,” Tedi said. “What will happen if it’s true?”
“I don’t know.”
“She cannot stay here with the very people who—”
“Of course not,” Shayndel said. “I’ll find out.”
After she left, Tedi stood in front of the cloudy mirror that hung near the door. She loosened the string holding back her long hair, now white-blonde from the sun. Combing her fingers through the broken, knotted ends, she remembered a bo
ar’s hair brush with a silver handle, a crocheted drape on the nightstand, a goblet of water with the letter P etched onto it, her mother’s hands rubbing rose-scented pomade into her scalp.
She went back to the sink and scrubbed her face with the merciless gray soap until her cheeks stung and her mind emptied and then headed back to the barrack to talk to Leonie.
She was still asleep. With her extraordinary eyes closed, she was just another girl, Tedi thought, unexceptional. She lay on her side with both arms thrust out in front of her, like a child. They were a child’s arms, too, soft and pink. Her fingers were small and tapered to the pale ovals of her nails. It took Tedi a minute to decipher the meaning of the fine, white rows across her wrists, straight and intentional as lines printed on a piece of paper.
Tedi had once believed that anyone who tried to commit suicide was insane. But now she knew how easy it could be to give up and let go; to close your eyes and just fall asleep on the frozen ground, with the moonlight on your face, the tang of diesel and smoke in your nostrils. Why get up when everyone who ever loved you is gone?
Leonie opened her eyes, pale and smoky against the pillow, and smiled at Tedi. “What is it?”
“I told Shayndel what you said … about the German.”
Leonie’s smile disappeared. “What did she say?”
“Nothing. She ran straight to the kitchen. I guess she’ll tell Tirzah.”
Leonie sat up, wrapped her arms around her knees, and changed the subject. “What do you smell in the air today? Do I still smell of rotten fruit?”
Tedi flushed. “You’re making fun of me. I shouldn’t have told you.”
“I’m not teasing. I’m really curious.”
“Today I woke up smelling pine trees. A whole forest of them.”
Leonie sniffed and grimaced. “Did it cover up the German?”
“No,” Tedi said, embarrassed to be talking of this. “What do you think is going on with those Iraqi guys? And that drama with the exercise teachers yesterday? Then Tirzah doesn’t show up to cook last night.”
“And Shayndel is so jumpy,” Leonie added. “Something must be happening. But for now, let’s go see if Tirzah made it to the kitchen this morning. Shayndel may need us.”
A few steps from the door, they nearly collided with Zorah, who was standing perfectly still and staring into the distance.
“Are you all right?” Tedi asked.
Zorah stared at them for a second before blurting, “I, uh, I have to go.” She rushed around the corner of the barrack, pressing her back against the wall, frightened and furious at herself.