“But you told me if I disagree with something, I can only argue if I have proof to back up my claim, which I do.”
“You’re as stubborn as me. God help me,” she mutters. “Emilie, you can also get sick from being out in the cold too long.”
“Where is your source?” I counter, tapping my finger against my chin with a smirk threatening to break into laughter.
“My source says you’re thirteen and will do what I say. Coats, now,” she says, pointing toward my bedroom.
“Okay, okay,” I reply, making my way back to my bedroom where I dropped it on my lavender-quilted bed after school.
“I’ll put mine on too, Frau Marx,” Gerty says with a nervous chuckle.
Gerty hustles out the door in front of me before Mama enforces more rules she might also have to follow.
“Emi, don’t stay outside too long. Dinner will be ready in an hour. You’re staying in the area, yes?”
I secure the last button on my coat and stop at the opening of the kitchen where Mama is washing a pan over the sink. “You’ve never been worried about where I’m going before, and we don’t usually eat dinner so early. Is everything okay?”
“Of course, but I don’t want you going too far. The main streets are crowded. That’s all.”
“But why?”
She isn’t telling me something. I can see it by the smudge of flour on her cheek. She only ends up with ingredients on her face when she’s anxious.
She huffs, pressing her forearms against the sink. “Emilie, I’m not sure you understand the gravitas of the Reichstag’s newest law, but any person who opposes Hitler’s governing decisions will face consequences—brutal ones. You must understand the importance of keeping your thoughts to yourself.”
“The talking mustache can’t do anything to me. I’m onmystreet in front ofmyhouse. I will think what I want, and Ithinkhe’s a horrible man.”
Mama drags her fingers through her frayed bangs. “I know I’ve always told you to speak your mind, but times have changed and you can’t speak so freely now. Your father and I feel the same way, but we all need to keep quiet.”
Before now, Mama has always said she wanted me to be a strong woman with a voice that could change the world. She’s given me the ability to believe anything is possible, which is why I will become a lifesaving nurse someday. I will help people—help them to be good.
“It’s not fair. We shouldn’t—” I argue.
“That’s enough. Go outside with your friends. Not another word about this.”
My forehead strains, trying to understand why she’s talking this way.
“You only have an hour. Don’t waste it glaring at me.”
I leave the entryway of the kitchen, trudging outside, perplexed.
Gerty is waiting for me on the front steps, avoiding the bickering between Mama and me. Until a couple of years ago it was always just the two of us, but when we turned eleven, the three boys who live here wanted to join us. Now there are five of us and more often than not, we’re together, trying to formulate ideas to prevent death from boredom.
“It’s time,” Gerty says as I close my front door behind me. “Are you ready for today’s performance?”
I laugh, knowing she’s about to pull something magical out from behind her back. “I’m afraid to ask what it’s time for,” I say, shielding my eyes from the sun.
She retrieves a crystal ball from the step below and grins.
“Where did that come from?” I ask.
“It was buried at the bottom of the coat closet, and I found it yesterday. I grabbed it while you were talking to your mama. I figured since we’ve been reading fortunes regularly, using only playing cards, we should officially declare today…Fortune Friday,” she shouts in proclamation, her hands shooting up into the air. We’ve been reading the boys’ fortunes as a form of entertainment. They get a kick out of it, but not as much as Gerty and I do.
“Again?” Otto groans from his front door, slipping a sweater over his head. “Gerty, you ruined my week after your last fortune.”
Gerty puckers her lips and scratches her ear. “How did I ruin your week?”
I elbow her in the side, recalling what she did. “You’re so mean to him,” I tease.
