Gerty shuffles her feet to catch up with the three of us but meets me on my other side to avoid being knocked over by Felix. She locks arms with me and rests her cheek on my shoulder. “I don’t think he was one of the kids sent home,” she says. “But if he was, you and I will go marching right into the principal’s office tomorrow and demand they take him back.”
I’m afraid no one would listen to our demands. The decisions aren’t being made by our principal. Mama and Papa said these are new German regulations. It’s not fair to any of the kids this has happened to.
Otto shakes his head disapprovingly. “You can’t barge into the school making demands right now. Besides, aren’t you the fortune teller?” he replies. “Surely, you would have predicted that this would happen, yes?”
Gerty curls her lips and scrunches her nose. “I can’t predict everything, you ding-dong.”
Otto places his hands on his heart as if he’s been offended by her words. “Well, I saw him close to the end of the day. We ran on the track together. He seemed okay to me.”
“Did he mention anything about what happened today?” I ask.
“Not a word,” Otto says.
Gerty and I give each other a look, one we exchange when we’re both silently worrying about the same thing. “We’re almost home. Hopefully he’s already there so we can check to make sure everything is okay,” Gerty says.
“Maybe we should have waited another few minutes,” I say, feeling a twinge of guilt.
Just as we turn down our street, Otto’s mother pops her head out their front door. “There you are,” she hollers. “I was wondering what was taking you so long. You’re late.” She’s standing squarely in her doorway now, her hands on her hips, watching as we approach.
“We were waiting for Danner, but?—”
“He’s home already,” she says, whipping her dishrag off her shoulder.
I glance off to the left toward his bedroom window, curious to see if he’s peeking out, but his drapes are closed.
“I made you kids apple fritters. Come on in before they get cold.”
Still focused on Danner’s house, I spot the front door crack open. I stop walking with the others and run across the stone road to see if he’s okay. “Danner?”
When I’m close enough to catch a glimpse of the side of his face, he closes the door and secures the lock as if I’m some kind of monster chasing him.
I knock on the door, my heavy fist making a bong-bong sound. “Let him be, Emilie,” Otto’s mother, Frau Berger, shouts across the street.
“Something is wrong. I need to see if he’s okay,” I say, knocking again.Why won’t he open the door?
“Danner, it’s me. Talk to me. Frau Berger made us apple fritters. Come on…”
“I can’t, Emilie.” His words are barely audible from the other side of the door.
“But why?” I question.
“Emilie, dear,” Frau Berger hollers again. “I don’t want to let the mice in, please come along.”
“Go on, Emi. We’ll talk later. I promise,” Danner says, his voice weak and distraught from what little I can hear.
“I just need you to tell me if you’re okay. Are you?”
“I’m fine,” he says without hesitation. “Go to Frau Berger’s for the apple fritters, then come over later.”
I place my palm flat on his door, defeated he won’t tell me what’s happened. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Don’t hurry on my account.”
Those words are unlike anything Danner would say. He’s always full of excitement and in a rush to get to wherever we’re going or do whatever we might be doing. Today is the first day he’s shied away from what’s in front of him. Something must be wrong.
I fix my satchel over my shoulder so the bag rests on my back and hurry across the street to Frau Berger’s open door, where she’s still waiting. “I was just checking on Danner,” I tell her.
“Of course,” she says. “I understand.”
