"I know," she said. "You'll come burn them down." The corner of her mouth twitched. "That's not how this city keeps breathing."
"I won't burn anything," I said, and the lie tasted like metal. "I'll…show up."
She nodded once, sharp, as if we'd agreed to something that didn't have a name. For a heartbeat, we stood close enough that I could feel the heat coming off her like a coal banked under ash. Then she stepped back.
"I have to go," she said. "Klaus willbe waiting."
"Klaus?" I felt a stab of jealousy run through me like a knife. Of course she had a man in her life. A woman like her had to. The urge to find that man and burn him to a crisp, though, surprised me. Not bothered, just surprised.
"My little brother." She clarified, and the amount of relief that rushed through me was ridiculous.
I dug into my pocket without thinking and came up with a pack of chewing gum. I held it out and then felt stupid. She looked at my hand, then at my face. Not understanding.
"For your brother… Klaus." I tried.
She blinked, as if not comprehending the idea of someone giving her something for free. I pushed the pack toward her, took her hand—it felt so light and cold, and so right—and pressed the gum into her palm. "For Klaus." I reiterated.
She moved away, not fast, not afraid, just turned and let the dark take her in gentle pieces. I stood in the mouth of the alley and watched until she was a shadow in a city of shadows.
Behind me, a drunken Navy officer whooped "Happy Fourth!" at nobody, and somewhere a bottle popped like a small firework that had lost its way. I thought about my father's hand steady on my shoulder the first time I lit a sparkler, about my mother's voice telling me to be careful, about my sister sleeping under a flag we'd hung. I missed them in a sudden, bone-deep way that made me want towalk back to the field and keep flying until distance did what sleep couldn't.
Instead, I shoved my hands into my pockets and turned toward McNair. My boots made that hollow midnight sound on the cobbles, the sound that proves the ground is still there. I didn't like Germans, and I liked Russians less, and I liked least of all the part of me that had reached for her without permission.
Damned if I knew why. But it was July 4th, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself want something that wasn't survival.
Berlin— July 6,1948, Tuesday
It had beentwo days since the American—Gideon—gave me the gum. Two days of replaying his voice in my head when I didn't mean to, two days of pretending the whole thing had meant nothing.
I gave the strips to Klaus as soon as he woke the next morning. For a moment, I thought I'd keep it, save it for his birthday. But the truth was sharper: It wasn't mine to keep and give. Gideon had given it to me for Klaus. Klaus's eyes had gone so wide I thought they might spill right out of his face.
"Gum?" he'd whispered like it was a magic word. "For me?"
"Yes," I said. "Try it."
He'd held the little stick like it was treasure from another world. When he finally put it in his mouth, he chewed once, twice, then grinned like the sun had broken right through our collapsed ceiling.
"It's sweet!"
"Only a little," I warned.
"I love it!" He broke the stick in half the way I'd shown him and held the other piece out. "You can have the rest."
I shook my head. "No. I want you to enjoy all of it." I watched as he carefully wrapped the broken stick back up and secured it in his pocket.
We came outside today after lessons, and he popped a piece in his mouth, chewing happily, then noticed me staring across the courtyard. Axel was there, half-shadow and half-boy, pressed against a wall like he wanted to disappear into it. Klaus followed my stare. "You want me to give the other half tohim?" he asked, incredulous.
I nodded.
Klaus sighed like an old man, but he walked over. Axel recoiled before Klaus even spoke.
"Here," Klaus said, holding out the gum.
Axel's eyes narrowed, darting between my brother's hand and the other kids in the courtyard. The Trümmerkinder were watching, snickering, elbowing each other, whispering cruel things they'd learned too young.
Axel backed up, shaking his head. "What do you want me to do for it?" he muttered, suspicious.
"Nothing!" Klaus said, offended.
