December 19th, 1949

Dear Diary,

I am told by the next door neighbors on either side that I am peculiar. Some tell me I shall be shipped off to a camp in Poland. The others tell me I will go to a remote island and live with other children who are also peculiar and a woman by the name of Alma Peregrine.

They call me peculiar. I have never thought of myself as peculiar. The Donald family who lives down the road are far more peculiar than me, it seems. All though what I think of myself and what other people think of me possibly could be to entirely different things.

I do not dare tell my mother and father, as they may be angry with the neighbors or I. But I am still afraid that my mother will help me pack my suitcase without explaining things, and my father will only tell me once I am on a boat towards Poland or a remote island. Only God knows where that island is, I am sure.

I am praying for myself, so that this will not happen.

Sincerely,

Lucy