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Josie feels the blood drain from her face. Her heart hammers. This is it. This is how it ends. Someone will tell. They’ll come for her.

But then something else rises up. Something fierce. Something that sounds like Andrée’s voice in her head: You have a right to exist. You have a right to be here.

Josie straightens her shoulders. Looks the girl in the eye. “So what?”

The girl blinks, surprised. “So what? So what? You’re a Jew. You’re not supposed to be here. You’re not supposed to be in this school.”

“And yet here I am.”

The girl’s face twists with anger. “Not for long. I’ll tell. I know my Maman wants to. I’ll tell them who you really are. Who’s been hiding you. That piano teacher, that bookshop family, they’ll all be arrested. And you’ll be sent away. Just like you should have been months ago.”

Fear grips Josie’s throat. Andrée. Louis. Tina. Arrested because of her. But she forces herself to stay calm, forces her voice steady.

“You should tell someone. You should tell Mlle Évrard. She’s the principal. I’m sure she’d want to know.”

“I will. I’ll tell her right now . . .”

“Did I hear my name?”

The voice comes from behind them. Every girl in the yard freezes. Marie-Thérèse stands there, tall, imposing, her eyes moving from the older girl to Josie and back again.

“Mlle Évrard,” the older girl stammers, “I was just . . .”

“Just what, Céline? What were you saying to Joséphine?”

Céline’s confidence wavers. “I was just saying that she . . . that she doesn’t belong here.”

“Doesn’t belong here? Interesting. Joséphine Levallois is enrolled in this school, is she not? She attends classes, completes her work, contributes to our community. She seems to me to belong quite well.”

“But she’s a . . . she’s a Jew. Everyone knows it. She shouldn’t be allowed⁠—”

“Céline.” The principal’s voice is quiet but carries absolute authority. “Come with me.”

“But, mademoiselle . . .”

“Now.”

Mlle Évrard walks toward the school building, not looking back. Céline has no choice but to follow, her face red with humiliation and anger.

Josie stands frozen, watching them go. Around her, the other students begin to whisper, to move, to pretend they weren’t watching.

Monique grabs Josie’s hand. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t know. What’s going to happen?”

“Mlle Évrard will handle it. She always does.”

Ten minutes later, a younger teacher approaches them in the yard. “Joséphine Levallois? Mlle Évrard would like to see you.”

Josie’s legs feel weak as she walks across the yard, through the corridors, to the principal’s office. The door is ajar. She knocks softly.

“Come in, Joséphine.”

Mlle Évrard sits behind her desk. Céline is nowhere to be seen. The headmistress gestures to a chair. “Please, sit.”

Josie sits, her hands folded in her lap, waiting.

“First, I want you to know that Céline has been reminded of several things. She has been reminded that she attends this school at my pleasure, by my permission and my permission alone. She has been reminded that this permission can be revoked at any time. And she has been reminded that in this school, we do not tolerate cruelty or prejudice of any kind.”