“Press down and up! Now!”
Elisabetta did so, and it must have worked because the car jolted forward and they started to go faster. “I did it!” she yelled, excited.
“More gas!”
“Where are we going?”
“Forward!”
“Is it safe?”
“Of course not!”
Elisabetta laughed and gave the car more gas, then even more, pressing the clutch pedal when Marco cued her. They flew down the road, spraying gravel and dirt, and she felt thrilled by the sensation of speed and power at her command.
She began to giggle, racing a big black convertible to a place she didn’t know at all. She sensed that was her life now, in that she knew only what was behind her and had no idea what lay ahead. She gave the car more gas, feeling truly in charge, a free woman of Rome, and for all of that, she had Marco to thank.
She raced along, the car shuddering beneath her. Was it possible she had fallen in love with both him and Sandro? And if so, how would she ever choose?
Elisabetta kept driving, into the future.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Sandro
5 September 1938
Sandro slid his bicycle into the crowded rack in the schoolyard. It was the first day of school, and all of the students were outside, standing in groups. Usually they’d be chattering, laughing, and fooling around, but they were quiet and seemed unusually subdued. Elisabetta was uppermost in his thoughts. He scanned the crowd for her, but she wasn’t here yet.
He spotted his classmates Carlo, Ezio, and Vittorio standing in a circle looking at a piece of paper, and approached them. “Ciao!” he said, happy to see them. “How were your summers?”
The three looked up from the sheet of paper, their expressions stunned, and none of them offered a response.
“What’s the matter?” Sandro asked, puzzled.
Carlo frowned. “The government passed some ‘Race Laws,’ whatever that’s supposed to be.”
“Race Laws?” Sandro asked, puzzled. “What does that mean?”
“We don’t understand.” Ezio pursed his lips. “It’s horrible. It means that the Jews are kicked out of school. The Jewish teachers and the Jewish students, both.”
“Are you joking?” Sandro didn’t understand. It wasn’t funny.
“No, it’s not a joke. Preside Livorno is going to speak about it any minute. They gave us all a notice. Here, take a look.” Vittorio handed him a sheet of paper. “The first part is about the teachers.”
Sandro accepted the paper, and its title was “Measures for the Defense of Race in Fascist Schools.” He read the first paragraph:
ARTICLE 1.
The position of teacher in state or state-controlled schools of any order or degree and in the nonstate schools, of which the studies are legally recognized, cannot be granted to people of the Jewish race, even if they won the position through a competitive state examination prior to the present degree; nor can they be granted positions as university assistants, nor can they obtain a university teaching qualification.
Sandro looked up, stricken. “There can’t be Jewish teachers anymore? That’s crazy! What happens to them?”
Carlo shook his head. “We think they’re fired.”
Ezio’s face fell. “Professoressa Longhi is crying. All the teachers are upset. None of us know what’s going on or why.”
“Oh no!” Sandro kept reading, horrified:
ARTICLE 2.
Students of the Jewish race cannot be enrolled in schools of any type or level of which the studies are legally recognized.
Sandro gasped, incredulous. He read the sentence twice. If he hadn’t seen it printed in black and white, he never would have believed it was possible. “I don’t understand. I’m already enrolled in school. Is this real? This is a law now? I’m not allowed to go?”
“I think so,” Carlo muttered. “I don’t know why they’re doing this. It was never this way. It’s wrong to single out the Jews, for no reason.”
“This can’t be true!” Sandro had a million thoughts at once. “I’m Jewish, so I can’t go to school anymore? What do I do? This is my school! I go here! I’m graduating this year! Does this mean I don’t graduate? I’m kicked out of my own school?”
“We don’t know, either.” Vittorio frowned. “I’m so sorry, Sandro. Maybe Preside Livorno will explain. It doesn’t make any sense to us.”
“My God!” Sandro couldn’t believe it was happening. He wanted to go to La Sapienza for undergraduate and graduate degrees in mathematics. He wanted to learn all he could, then teach and publish papers. He wanted to contribute, like Professor Levi-Civita. He had goals, but he couldn’t achieve a single one if he couldn’t graduate from high school. All of a sudden, he had no future at all.