My Canary Yellow Star

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Authors: Eva Wiseman
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announcement with growing dismay. A curfew had been imposed. We were now allowed to leave our homes only between two and five o’clock in the afternoon. We weren’t permitted to have guests come to our homes. We could not call out of our windows to friends, even if they happened to live across the street from us. We could not use the same air-raid shelters as Christians. We were not allowed to sit on park benches. We could not visit the homes of Christian acquaintances, even if they lived in a yellow-star house. Most humiliatingly, we were allowed to travel only in the last car of a streetcar, even if the other cars were empty. A Jewish person caught disobeying these regulations faced immediate deportation.
    I took the poster to Mama. As she read it, her expression became more and more grave.
    “As if wearing a yellow star isn’t humiliating enough!” Her voice broke. “How are we going to live?”
    I shrugged my shoulders. I could only wonder how I would ever see Peter again.

    Despite the new regulations and his mother’s threats, Peter sent me a note asking me to meet him at the Café Peace. Although it was a sunny July afternoon, I took along a sweater with no star on it. Just before I got to the café, I would put it on to hide the yellow star on my blouse, since Jews were forbidden to eat in restaurants. Both Peter and I knew the risk we were taking. So far, we’d been lucky: no police had come into the café to check papers. But we knew that our luck couldn’t last forever. We were going to have to find another place to meet.
    I had told Judit my secret. I was certain she wouldn’t betray me, for behind my loyal friend’s practical exterior beat a romantic heart.
    “Peter must like you a lot,” she said as I was dressing.
    “Of course he likes me. We’ve been friends for ages.”
    “You know what I mean.” She giggled.
    “Don’t be silly! He’s just a friend. I’ve known him forever.” I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, a sure sign that a blush was about to follow.
    “So what if you’ve known him for a long time? What’s that got to do with anything?”
    “So … so nothing! Nothing at all! We’re just friends,” I repeated, though I knew it was not true.
    When I’d finished dressing, I said goodbye to Judit and told Mama I was going out to buy some food. I told myself I wasn’t really lying to my mother, just postponing telling her the truth. Still, I felt so guilty when she accepted myexplanation with no questions asked. Food shortages had become so severe that my excuse was believable. We were allowed fewer rations, and we could not go to the grocer’s early in the morning because of the curfew. By the time we did get to the shops, the shelves were bare; most of the day’s merchandise had already been sold to customers who were able to line up early in the morning. Sometimes it took hours to find a grocery store that could sell us a loaf of bread or a small block of cheese.
    “Be careful,” Mama said as she looked me over from head to toe. She didn’t ask why I was wearing my one good skirt. Its black folds ballooned out satisfyingly and made my waist seem smaller. Grandmama had made it out of the dress I used to wear at Madam’s. My former apron had become a fashionable white blouse with a Peter Pan collar. A wide black belt completed my outfit. I didn’t own any high-heeled shoes, so I had to be satisfied with my ancient, slightly scuffed black Mary Janes. I had asked Judit to take a piece of charcoal from the stove and draw two straight black lines down the back of my legs. From a distance, it looked like I was wearing nylon stockings with seams. I had rolled the front of my hair into a fat sausage curl, just like the one the American movie star Judy Garland wore. In the bottom of my only purse, a hand-me-down from Mama, was Judit’s lipstick. It was Passion Red. She lent it to me whenever I went to see Peter. I knew better than to try to put it on at home, however.

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