Sandro felt someone touching his arm. He looked over to see Elisabetta. Without a word, she took his hand, looking heartbroken for him.
Preside Livorno gave the Fascist salute, which everyone returned, then he began to speak. “Students, you have already received a copy of this new law, Regio Decreto Number 1390. It is a royal decree. I am very sorry to say that according to this law, Jewish students are no longer permitted to attend school here. In addition, Jewish teachers are no longer permitted to teach here.”
“Preside Livorno, this is wrong!” Sandro called out, angering. “This law is wrong! You can’t do this!”
Other students shouted, “This is unfair!” “Yes, this is wrong!” “Can they do that?” “Why are they doing this?” “This is my school!” “You should refuse to do it, Preside Livorno!”
“Please, settle down.” Preside Livorno motioned for silence again. “We were instructed to give no opinion regarding this law, so we will not. We were instructed to see to its enforcement, so we must. We have been informed that Jewish students will be permitted to form their own schools, which they may attend with other Jewish students.”
Sandro called out again, “You mean, make our own schools? How do we do that, Preside Livorno? This is unjust!”
Preside Livorno’s lined face fell. “Sandro, we were told there may be funding to the Jewish community, in that regard. Again, we are very sorry.”
“But how do I graduate?” Sandro shot back.
Other students chimed in to echo Sandro’s concern.
Preside Livorno’s eyes filmed behind his glasses. “My deepest apologies. I’m afraid I can say no more. I have no choice in this matter, under this law.”
The bell sounded, signaling that classes were to begin, but no one moved. Sandro froze, unsure whether to stay or go. It was his school, and he had been so excited about the school year. His final one before graduation. His time with Elisabetta.
Preside Livorno called out, “Students, come in, the school day must commence. To all of our Jewish students, we wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors. Everyone else, please enter the building with dispatch.”
Sandro glanced over as Carlo, Ezio, Vittorio, and his other classmates headed into the building.
Elisabetta embraced him. “Sandro, I’m so sorry.”
“They can’t do this, can they?”
“I . . . don’t know.”
Sandro released her. “Go,” he said softly. “You have to go inside.”
“No, I want to stay with you.”
“Please, go.”
“I’m staying with you.” Elisabetta took his hand, but Sandro touched her shoulder, easing her off.
“Listen, I’ll see you later.”
The final bell rang, and Preside Livorno turned to the students. “For those permitted, please come in. We were instructed to keep classes on schedule. We mustn’t start later than necessary.”
Sandro tried to absorb the shock. “Really, go inside. I want to go to La Sapienza and see what’s happening with the professor.” He kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll see you when I can.”
“Of course.”
Sandro watched Elisabetta turn reluctantly away, walk to the entrance with the other Gentile students, then glance back at him. He could see how much she was hurting for him, so he put on a brave face and waved goodbye. She climbed the steps into school amid the throng, and the schoolyard emptied of everyone except the Jewish students, Carlotta, Malka, Giulia, and others whose names he didn’t know, teary and confused.
The doors to the school closed, and Sandro stood in mute astonishment on the outside, among the other Jewish students. Noise and chatter emanated from the school’s open windows, and he knew that everyone would be filing into the classrooms, about to sing “Giovinezza.” He had sung it every day, too, but today, Fascism had excluded him from his school and everyone he knew, including the girl he loved.
“What do we do now?” Giulia approached, wiping her eyes.
“I don’t know, but I have to go.” Sandro hurried for his bicycle.
* * *
—
Sandro pedaled through the streets, faster than he ever had before. The morning rush hour was in full swing, and it was all he could do to stay out of the way of cars, trams, and other bicycles. Everyone was hurrying to get to work or school, oblivious to the upheaval in the lives of Rome’s Jews. He reached La Sapienza in record time, steered onto the asphalt path that ran through the center of campus, and joined the other students riding bicycles and walking in groups. He passed the new administration building, a massive edifice that had been built under Mussolini, which Sandro