Eva smiled back. “I know. I have one, too.”
Not like mine, thought Korinna. Mine is a traitor. She turned her attention back to the lesson, but she found it hard to concentrate. She couldn’t help wondering what the Krugmanns were doing.
Finally school was over. She met Rita and Eva in the usual spot to the right of the large front doors of the school building.
“Okay, let’s go,” Rita said cheerfully. “You’ll eat dinner at my house and then we’ll go to the meeting.”
“I’m not going,” Korinna said.
Both Rita and Eva stared at her with surprise. “What do you mean you’re not going?” Rita demanded.
Korinna lifted a hand to her head. “I still don’t feel very well. It kind of came back during school.”
“What is it?” Rita asked. “A cold? A headache? What?”
“A little of both,” Korinna said evasively. “I ... I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”
“Is it the mice?” Rita asked.
“No, no!” Korinna said a bit too forcefully. She’d forgotten that she’d told her friends about the noises. But why wouldn’t she have? Friends shared everything from gossip about her cute neighbor, Alfred Bissle, to rustling mouse noises in the walls. “My father put out a trap to kill them. I haven’t heard anything since.”
Eva made a face. “I wouldn’t want mice in my walls.”
“It was nothing,” Korinna said hastily. “They’re gone now.”
“That’s good,” Eva said. “I’d hate to have something behind my bedroom wall making scary noises. Especially little mice with their beady pink eyes and those awful rat tails.”
Rita nodded in agreement.
Korinna groaned inwardly. If only they knew the truth, she thought. Perhaps they’d think Jews were preferable to mice. After all, Jews didn’t have beady pink eyes, they had dark, suspicious eyes.
Rita nudged her. “Korinna! Are you falling asleep on your feet?”
Korinna nodded. “I am really tired. I guess I should go home now.” She was eager to get away from her friends’ prying eyes and questions. “Tomorrow you can tell me about the plans for the parade.” Waving, she turned away and started home alone.
Ten minutes later, she turned up the narrow path to her small red brick house with the green painted door and shutters. It was a pretty house, she decided, with window boxes full of flowers in the summer and icicles hanging from the roof in the winter.
Entering the house, she called to her mother who answered from the front room. Korinna was glad her mother didn’t spend all her time with the Jews. It was bad enough she cooked and cared for them.
Korinna’s mother looked up. She held a dress in one hand and a needle and thread in the other. “How was school?”
Korinna sat down beside her mother. “Long,” she said with a sigh. She fingered the familiar material her mother was working on. “What are you doing?”
Her mother held up the dress. “Do you recognize it?”
Korinna nodded. It was one of her dresses that she had long since grown out of. “Why did you keep that?”
“I kept most of your dresses to pass on to my grandchildren.”
Korinna laughed. “I don’t think you have to mend any of my old dresses just yet.”
Her mother’s face suddenly turned serious. “This one isn’t for my future granddaughter. This one is for Rachel.”
“Rachel?” Korinna repeated, stunned. “The Jew?”
“Rachel, the little girl upstairs who only has one dress to her name,” her mother corrected.
“But that’s my dress,” Korinna protested.
“It doesn’t fit you anymore.”
“But it’s mine,” she insisted.
“Then take it!” Frau Rehme threw down the dress and stalked out of the room.
Korinna picked up the dress and held it against herself. Looking down, she had trouble remembering where she had gotten it. Then she remembered. Frau Rosen had made it for her for her fifth birthday. Frau Rosen, whom she had called Auntie long ago, had disappeared. She remembered the day not too long ago that she had walked past the Rosen home and seen the front door wide open. That’s when she had known they were gone. But where, she didn’t know. Of course that was long after she had stopped talking to Frau Rosen anyway.
She put down the dress and went upstairs. She could hear her mother banging pots and dishes in the kitchen.
In her room, Korinna put her book bag on the floor and called, “Here kitty, kitty.” There was no answering meow. “Here kitty, kitty,” she called again. Again there was no reply. Or was there? Standing perfectly still, she thought she could hear a faint answering meow. It came from behind her Schrank!
Instantly, blind fury flooded her body. The Jews had her kitten! She yanked the wardrobe away from the wall, surprised at how easily and quietly it moved now that she knew what she was doing. Rachel stared up at her from the hole in the wall, cuddling a little bundle of black and white fur.
Korinna reached down and snatched her kitten from the little girl’s thin arms. Rachel cried out. Two red scratches welled with blood where the kitten’s claws had scraped on the child’s forearms.
“She’s mine,” Korinna said coldly.
Rachel looked up at her with wide eyes, tears streaming down her pale cheeks.
“Come,” Sophie said, pulling her daughter into her arms. The woman glared furiously up at Korinna. “You have what’s yours, now leave us alone,” she commanded.
Korinna scowled at her. What right did this Jewess have, bossing her around? It was her room and her wall and her kitten! These Jews had no rights, didn’t they know that? She furiously shoved the wardrobe closed with a loud bang. The kitten, startled by the sudden noise, scrambled out of her hands and darted out of the room.
“Korinna, what’s going on?” her mother demanded, practically tripping over the kitten on her way into the bedroom.
“That little Jewess had my kitten.”
“Her name is Rachel,” her mother said angrily. “I heard her crying. Why is she crying?”
“The kitten scratched her.”
“Why?”
Korinna threw up her hands. “Why are you questioning me like this? She had my kitten and I took her back. Papa gave her to me. The kitten is mine!”
“Yes, I know,” her mother replied, her voice terse with anger. “Just like the dress is yours, and this room is yours, and this country is yours. You have everything, Korinna. Rachel has nothing! Is it so terrible that she wants to play with your kitten? Well, is it?” she demanded when her daughter didn’t respond.
Korinna stared at her mother. Salty tears stung her nose and made her eyes water. Her mother had never yelled at her like this before. And now, all because of a Jew, she had suddenly turned against her.
After a tense moment of silence, the anger seemed to flow out of Korinna’s mother, and slowly she deflated. Her shoulders sagged as if her spine had lost its strength, and even her face seemed to droop. Finally she just shook her head and left the room.
Korinna flung herself onto her bed. She would have been better off going to her meeting than coming home to this, she thought angrily. Something tickled her hand. Looking, she saw that her kitten had come back and was rubbing against her hand for attention. She sat up and hugged the kitten close.
“So what do you do all day?” she asked her kitten softly. “Do you get lonely with no friends to play with?” She remembered as a child talking to her dolls in much the same way. She had always longed for a little sister, or even a brother, but instead she had grown up with only her dolls to keep her company. Now she had a kitten, but she also had friends and school and Jungmädel meetings to fill her time. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind, Rachel has nothing!
She stroked the kitten’s head. “Is the little Jewess fun to play with? Does she keep you company?” she said aloud. It occurred to her that she hadn’t been able to find her kitten the other day because Rachel probably had been pl
aying with it.
She tried to imagine what it must be like for the little girl living in a small room, never seeing the sunlight. There would be no toys or games for her to play with, and no friends or outings. She didn’t even have any dresses to choose from. Nothing.
The kitten started to wiggle, so Korinna let go of it. It jumped off the bed and walked back and forth in front of the right side of the wardrobe, purring.
Not giving herself a chance to think, Korinna got off the bed. She pulled open the right side of the Schrank, just a few centimeters. With her foot, she tapped the kitten in the right direction. The kitten pounced through the gaping hole and was swallowed up in the dim glow of candlelight. Korinna slowly pushed the wardrobe back into place.
Chapter Seven
Early the next morning, Korinna sat at her desk, her small black book open in front of her.
Biting the end of her pencil, Korinna tried to decide what to write. The last entry she’d made had been about Fräulein Meiser. Now her teacher was gone. How could she turn in her parents? Yet, she knew she must. For the Fatherland. For the Third Reich.
She wrote: “My parents are the enemy.”
It was only five words, but she knew it would be enough to interest her Jungmädel leaders. Perhaps she would tell them tomorrow, or at least by the next day. The longer she waited, the more she felt like a traitor herself.
Slowly she closed the black notebook and tucked it under her pillow. As she picked up her book bag next to the wardrobe, she noticed a folded piece of paper. Picking it up, she immediately realized it was one of Rachel’s drawings. Thinking it had somehow dropped outside the wardrobe when it had been open, Korinna was about to throw the paper away when she noticed her own name, misspelled, written on the front. She unfolded the paper. Rachel had drawn a picture of the kitten with the sun shining above her head. Only one word was written on the inside—Danke.
Korinna frowned. She didn’t want any Jews to thank her. Angrily she ripped the drawing into shreds and threw them at her garbage pail next to her desk. Then she raced downstairs.
Thinking about her black book, Korinna had a hard time looking her mother in the eyes as Frau Rehme insisted that Korinna attend the meeting that afternoon. “You haven’t gone since you learned of the Krugmanns,” her mother argued. “The officers will get suspicious, especially since they’re meeting every day now because of the Führer’s visit.”
“No they won’t. Rita’s explained to them that I’m still sick.”
“Then why are you going to school each day?” her mother asked.
Korinna shifted her heavy book bag on her shoulder. “I get sicker in the afternoon.”
Frau Rehme shook her head. “I think you should go,” she said sternly, kissing her daughter good-bye.
“Maybe,” Korinna said, closing the front door behind her.
Rita met her and they walked to school together as usual.
“Are you coming to the meeting today?” Rita asked.
“It depends on how I feel,” Korinna said.
Rita tugged on the strap of her book bag. “You can’t be that sick. You sound fine.”
Korinna glanced nervously at her best friend. “Don’t worry, I’ll probably go to the meeting.”
“Good, because today we’re going to practice the new song for the Führer’s visit.”
“That sounds like fun,” Korinna said. “Rita,” she began. “I—I have to tell you something, but you have to promise not to tell anyone.”
Rita looked at Korinna obliquely and nodded.
Korinna hesitated. All night she had been debating this question. Should she say something about the Krugmanns to her very best friend? They were supposed to share everything, she had argued with herself.
“Do you promise not to say anything? Not even to Eva?”
“I said I promised,” Rita said irritably. “Now tell me!”
Korinna hesitated for a moment. “I—I think I have a crush on Alfred,” she blurted out.
Rita stopped walking and confronted her friend. “Are you kidding? That’s your big secret? You’ve had a crush on Alfred for years. What were you really going to tell me?” she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.
“That’s it,” Korinna said cheerfully, continuing to walk toward the school. “I mean I really, really like him. Not just a baby crush, I mean really.”
Rita skipped to catch up to her friend. “You are lying to me, Korinna. You can’t fool me. I’ve known you too long for that.”
They entered the school. “There’s Eva, I have to ask her something,” Korinna called as she hurried down the hall, leaving Rita staring after her.
After school, before Rita had a chance to ask Korinna about that morning, a group of young children raced toward them.
“Jew, Jew, I spit on you!” taunted a group of older boys who chased the young children down the sidewalk. The throng scrambled around and through Korinna and Rita, who were on their way to eat dinner at Rita’s house before going to their Jungmädel meeting.
Korinna didn’t think the seven- and eight-yearolds who raced frantically past her looked all that Jewish. In fact, one of them had pale golden hair, not the thick black hair that she usually associated with Jews. But the yellow stars they were forced to wear gave them away.
Rita grinned. “Come on, Korinna.”
“You want to chase those little kids?”
“Sure, why not? They should all be sent away where they won’t disturb anyone. They shouldn’t be wandering around these streets, bothering us good, loyal Germans.”
“I feel stupid running after a bunch of children,” Korinna said, hoping Rita would change her mind.
“Do you feel stupid fighting for Germany?” Rita demanded.
“I would do anything for our Fatherland,” Korinna said indignantly. “You know that, Rita.”
“Then come on. We have to let those dirty, little Jews know they’re not wanted here. Remember, they’re the enemy!”
“But they’re practically babies!”
Rita’s eyes narrowed. “Now you’re beginning to sound like Eva.”
Korinna looked hard at her best friend. “Okay, let’s go,” she said. “But we’ll have to hurry to catch up.” She started to run after the now distant group of children, and she could hear Rita panting behind her.
They finally caught up, not because they were incredible sprinters, but because one of the Jewish children had slipped on some ice and now sat on the cold ground, crying. Her Jewish friends huddled behind her, loyally sticking with her, though they all looked as if they’d rather run and hide. They were surrounded by the sneering bunch of older boys when Korinna and Rita came upon them.
“Jew, Jew, I spit on you!” the boys chanted, and then they all spit on the group of youngsters in the center.
“Jew, Jew, I spit on you!” Rita joined the taunting jeer. Korinna watched, her mouth suddenly dry.
Finally, one of the boys grew tired of spitting, so he picked up a ball of snow and threw it. It landed squarely on the fallen girl’s cheek. When the snow fell away, Korinna could see that there had been ice mixed in with the snow and that it had cut the little girl’s face. Blood oozed from the little scrapes and mingled with the girl’s tears and the melted snow.
Rita reached down and scooped up a handful of snow, patting it into a firm ball. Others were doing the same. She offered the snowball to her friend.
“Throw it,” Rita urged.
Korinna took the cold ball into her hand. It was heavy with ice. She looked at the group of children in the center of the crowd. They were Jews. They were the enemy, and for the Fatherland to thrive, all enemies had to be put down.
“For the Fatherland,” Korinna said under her breath, and she let the missile fly. She had good aim. She hit the little girl in the shoulder. The girl gave a sharp cry and lifted a hand to ward off further blows. For the Fatherland, Korinna reminded herself firmly as she watched the tears continue to roll down the girl’s face. For the Fath
erland.
“Let’s go,” Korinna said, pulling on Rita’s sleeve. Rita was still chanting. Korinna pulled harder. “Come on, we’ll be late for dinner and our meeting.”
Reluctantly, Rita allowed herself to be led away from the growing group of chanters.
It was quite a few blocks before Korinna couldn’t hear the mocking refrain anymore, and still she couldn’t get the little girl’s expression out of her mind.
“I think we taught those dirty Jews a lesson,” Rita said. “Did you see that girl’s face when she was hit with that first snowball?” Rita giggled. “Maybe they’ll stay where they belong instead of walking around like they have rights or something.”
Korinna only nodded, and they walked on in silence. For the Fatherland, she kept telling herself. For the beloved Fatherland.
Later, during the meeting, Fräulein Schönwald taught the girls the new song and they practiced it for the rest of the afternoon. At the end of the meeting all the girls formed a semicircle around the striking red, white, and black National Socialist flag, while one of the Jungmädel leaders regaled them with yet another story about their wonderful Führer. At the end of the lively speech everyone raised her right arm to a forty-five degree angle and shouted, “Heil Hitler!”
The sudden shout startled Korinna out of her thoughts. “Heil Hitler,” she said hastily, her voice trailing well behind the others.
“Korinna!” called an angry voice. “Come here!”
Korinna walked over to the leader, who stared furiously down her long nose.
“You have missed two meetings, Fräulein, and now you show your disrespect by failing to salute the flag properly!”
“But I—”
“Silence! You have not been told to speak!” commanded the leader.
“No, but—”
Suddenly a flash of heat stung her face as the leader slapped her hard across the cheek. The force of the blow jolted Korinna’s head to the side. Immediately tears sprang into her eyes.
“I’ll be watching you, Korinna Rehme,” warned the leader tersely.
Behind the Bedroom Wall Page 5