Between Shades of Gray

Table of Contents

 

 

 

 

 

PHILOMEL BOOKS

 

A division of Penguin Young Readers Group. Published by The Penguin Group.
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014, U.S.A.
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada
(a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.).
Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England.
Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd).
Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia
(a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd).
Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi - 110 017, India.
Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand
(a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd).
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank,
Johannesburg 2196, South Africa.
Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England.

Text copyright © 2011 by Ruta Sepetys. Map illustrations copyright © 2011 by Katrina Damkoehler.

All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without
permission in writing from the publisher, Philomel Books, a division of Penguin Young Readers
Group, 345 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014. Philomel Books, Reg. U.S. Pat. & Tm. Off.
The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means
without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only
authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted
materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. The publisher does not have any control
over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Published simultaneously in Canada.

 

 

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Sepetys, Ruta. Between shades of gray / Ruta Sepetys. p. cm.
Summary: In 1941, fifteen-year-old Lina, her mother, and brother are pulled from their Lithuanian
home by Soviet guards and sent to Siberia, where her father is sentenced to death in a prison camp
while she fights for her life, vowing to honor her family and the thousands like hers by burying her
story in a jar on Lithuanian soil. Based on the author’s family, includes a historical note.
1. Lithuania—History—Soviet occupation, 1940-1941—Juvenile fiction. [1. Lithuania—History—
Soviet occupation, 1940-1941—Fiction. 2. Labor camps—Fiction. 3. Survival—Fiction. 4. Siberia
(Russia)—History—20th century—Fiction. 5. Soviet Union—History—1925-1953—Fiction.]
I. Title. PZ7.S47957Be 2011 [Fic]—dc22 2009050092

 

eISBN : 978-1-101-47615-4

 

This map is intended to convey the great distance Lina and her family traveled. It is not meant to accurately represent all country borders.

This map is intended to convey the great distance Lina and her family traveled. It is not meant to accurately represent all locations.

THEY TOOK ME IN MY NIGHTGOWN.

Thinking back, the signs were there—family photos burned in the fireplace, Mother sewing her best silver and jewelry into the lining of her coat late at night, and Papa not returning from work. My younger brother, Jonas, was asking questions. I asked questions, too, but perhaps I refused to acknowledge the signs. Only later did I realize that Mother and Father intended we escape. We did not escape.

We were taken.

June 14, 1941. I had changed into my nightgown and settled in at my desk to write my cousin Joana a letter. I opened a new ivory writing tablet and a case of pens and pencils, a gift from my aunt for my fifteenth birthday.

The evening breeze floated through the open window over my desk, waltzing the curtain from side to side. I could smell the lily of the valley that Mother and I had planted two years ago.
Dear Joana
.

It wasn’t a knocking. It was an urgent booming that made me jump in my chair. Fists pounded on our front door. No one stirred inside the house. I left my desk and peered out into the hallway. My mother stood flat against the wall facing our framed map of Lithuania, her eyes closed and her face pulled with an anxiety I had never seen. She was praying.

“Mother,” said Jonas, only one of his eyes visible through the crack in his door, “are you going to open it? It sounds as if they might break it down.”

Mother’s head turned to see both Jonas and me peering out of our rooms. She attempted a forced smile. “Yes, darling. I will open the door. I won’t let anyone break down our door.”

The heels of her shoes echoed down the wooden floor of the hallway and her long, thin skirt swayed about her ankles. Mother was elegant and beautiful, stunning in fact, with an unusually wide smile that lit up everything around her. I was fortunate to have Mother’s honey-colored hair and her bright blue eyes. Jonas had her smile.

Loud voices thundered from the foyer.

“NKVD!” whispered Jonas, growing pale. “Tadas said they took his neighbors away in a truck. They’re arresting people.”

“No. Not here,” I replied. The Soviet secret police had no business at our house. I walked down the hallway to listen and peeked around the corner. Jonas was right. Three NKVD officers had Mother encircled. They wore blue hats with a red border and a gold star above the brim. A tall officer had our passports in his hand.

“We need more time. We’ll be ready in the morning,” Mother said.

“Twenty minutes—or you won’t live to see morning,” said the officer.

“Please, lower your voice. I have children,” whispered Mother.

“Twenty minutes,” the officer barked. He threw his burning cigarette onto our clean living room floor and ground it into the wood with his boot.