5. Danner

FIVE

Munich, Germany

Mama has set out a bowl of chopped fruit, toast, and jam, ready for David and me to devour before running out of the house and racing to school. She would prefer we wake up earlier and take the time to sit down at the table and swallow the bites we take before continuing our mad dash, but she’s given up the fight now that David is old enough to be following in my footsteps—sleeping too late and having to rush. He’s three years younger but wants to do everything the same way I do. It can be annoying, but I try to take it as a compliment. He watches me like I’m his reflection in the mirror and copies my gestures, and even goes as far as smiling and scowling the same way. Mama said he’ll find his own way soon enough and that ten years old is a hard age to navigate, being just a boy but wanting to be older like me.

Mama stands at the doorway with our bagged lunches in hand, but not with the typical tired smile she pins to her cheeks as we leave. She seems distressed. “What is it, Mama?”

“Yes, what’s wrong, Mama?” David echoes.

“David, run along. Your brother will catch up in a moment. I need to have a word with him.”

“Oh, you must be in trouble,” David hoots as he skips out the door.

I don’t think I’m in trouble. I would have had to do something wrong for that to be the case. This is something else, and I’m not sure it’s going to be any better than me being in trouble. “What is it?” I ask, my voice stifled in my throat.

She places her hands on top of my shoulders as her eyes close for a long blink. She takes a deep breath and stares me straight in the face. “I’m not sure what events might unfold today, son. If you’re told to go home, collect your brother, and do as you’re told immediately without question. Do you understand?”

How could I understand? She’s never said anything like this to me before. Why would someone tell me to go home?

Papa enters the kitchen just as Mama is trying to find the words to explain her statement. “Have you told him yet?” he says, straightening the knot on his tie.

“Told me what?” I ask, staring between the two of them. My stomach growls from hunger and nerves. I’m not even sure I’ll be able to eat the toast I’m holding in my hand after they say what they need to say.

“I was trying to find the words,” Mama says, folding her arms around her waist.

Dad rests his arm around Mama’s back and leans down to stare me in the eyes like Mama was. “Son, the Führer made a statement yesterday that there were too many Jewish children in the public schools and that there’s to be less than five percent of the student population going forward,” Papa says. “We aren’t sure how they plan to handle this new policy, but we want you to be prepared in case they ask you and your brother to leave. If they do, we will figure things out. It’s not something you need to worry about.”

“Too many Jewish children in school?” I repeat. “What difference does the number of Jewish children make?”

“It doesn’t,” Mama groans.

“Sarah,” Papa utters. “We all feel the same way, but we don’t have control over this.”

“Can’t I refuse to leave?” The question is rhetorical because I would never argue with a teacher.

“I’m afraid not, son. If you’re told to leave, do so without a word.”

I drop my chin already feeling the defeat. “Yes, Father.”

He scruffs up my hair and kisses the top of my head. Mama then pulls me into a tight embrace. “I love you. It will be okay. Keep your chin up.”

I don’t think she believes those words. Her chin isn’t up. She’s staring down at the floor.

My shoulders feel heavier than when Papa’s hands were resting on them, but I walk out the door, finding David running in circles around Emilie, Gerty, Otto, and Felix, who have waited for me. I must be brave.

Gerty wrangles her arms around David and captures him so he can’t continue spinning around them. “Got you,” she says with laughter.

I would prefer that no one knows what Mama and Papa just told me, but they might have already heard from their parents. “Gerty, Felix, Otto, and I were thinking of going to the theater tomorrow night. Can you go too?” Emilie asks.

“I should be able to,” I say.

“Me too. I’m going with you too,” David adds.

“We’ll see about that,” I mutter. Whenever David joins us, I end up having to watch him all night rather than having fun with my friends.

“You sound tired,” Emilie says. “Did the math homework keep you up late?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” She knows when I’m lying, but never forces the truth out, which I appreciate. I offer her the same courtesy.

“I see,” she says.

“I heard the radio last night,” Felix injects. “It’s not right. It’s stupid is what it is.”

Emilie stares over at Felix, giving him a look that I would take as a hint to stop talking.

“He’s right. It is stupid, and if I could say the things I want say out loud—” Gerty adds with a grunt.

“Maybe it’s best to assume you’ll be part of the five percent, right?” Emilie asks.

I clear my throat, hoping she’ll drop the subject. I don’t want David asking questions. He’ll walk right into his classroom and ask if they’re going to send him home because he’s Jewish. As young as he is, he would hope they would say yes just so he wouldn’t have to go to school anymore. I don’t think that’s the way this will work.

My apprehension keeps me quiet throughout our walk, leaving Felix and Emilie to carry on a conversation about the film playing at the theater. I catch Emilie’s lingering glance sweep over me once every few minutes. If she knows what I do, she understands the stress I’m feeling—the dread of walking in through the school doors, being told to stop and go home because I’m no longer wanted in the building.

David shouts his goodbyes as he runs ahead of us to make it inside the school hall first. If I walk slow enough, I might have more hope if he isn’t sent back out the door, but I should be in there before he is in case anyone gives him grief.

I speed up to make it into the school, but Emilie catches my arm.

“I’ll see you inside,” Felix says, continuing on ahead.

Gerty is hesitant to leave but when she spots us having a quiet conversation, follows Felix into the school.

“Danner,” Emilie says, “you don’t deserve this…even just the thought of it. It’s not fair, and it’s not right. I’ll always stand behind you. I hope you know that.”

I stare at her for a long moment, finding the truth welling up in her pretty blue eyes. “I do. This must be the news you were talking about in my fortune reading last week.”

“No, no,” she argues. She doesn’t want to believe the gut feeling she must have had. Mama tells us to always trust what our gut is saying.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay,” I tell her with words so forced it’s obvious I’m lying.

“Look at me,” she says, pressing her hand against my cheek. “Don’t focus on what the government wants you to focus on. You’ll be making their jobs easier. Whenever you feel like the world is against you, start counting your breaths. One breath every five seconds will show anyone who is watching that you haven’t a worry in the world.”

“One breath every five seconds?” I repeat.

“Yes, it keeps you calm, and no one will spot a hint of your worry.”

“I can do that,” I assure her before turning around and jogging toward the front door of the school.

I walk in through the door and hold my breath to try and slow the rush of air coming and going from my lungs even though I’m convinced even the walls are judging me for my religion. There are teachers in the corridor and every non-Jewish German child who walks in shouts, “Heil Hitler!” Along with their flat hand salute. No one told me I had to do so, which segregates me more, and I’m not just imagining that each one of the teachers I pass gives me a cold glare as I walk by. But no one stops me.

Frau Hunter, my teacher, could be the one with the power to send me away. My heart trembles as sweat trickles down the center of my spine while I walk into the brightly lit classroom. The light of a projector is blaring against the blackboard even though the curtains are open too.

I walk past Frau Hunter’s desk and smile at her, waiting for her mouth to open. “Guten Morgen, Herr Alesky. Have a seat.”

Relief floods through me, my muscles relax, and I lose my grip, unsticking my fingernails from the palms of my hands.

I settle down into my seat and glance around the classroom, noticing empty desks scattered throughout the room. I shift my gaze to the clock just as the bell rumbles.The empty seats belong to the other Jewish kids who were in my class. I’m the only one left.

“Today we’re going to be watching a presentation about the ‘Aryan Paragraph.’ I suggest you all take out your notebooks and pencils to jot down some notes as you will be quizzed on this information later.”

The Aryan Paragraph. The new way of imposing regulations to exclude Jews from German society.