Chapter III

For a split second, I met Anton’s eyes. They were hazel, and narrowed in an expression of contempt. I quickly looked away, the feeling of eye contact too overwhelming. 

“What?” I sputtered. It was the only response I could muster to what he had said to me.

Anton stepped forward and turned on his heel to face me, then someone else grabbed my arm. It was the dark-haired boy who followed Anton around. Earlier I had heard the other boys call him Arnold. 

“Your arms are twigs!” Arnold spat in disgust as he flopped my arm around before dropping it. I gulped, wondering if I was about to get beat up for the first time in my life.  

“You run like a weichei,” Anton added as he shoved me, “and you can’t even do a push-up!”

I tripped backwards and Arnold caught me.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered.

Arnold chuckled, and I could feel as he began to rummage through my rucksack. At my old school, when other students bothered me, I usually just let them. I ignored their words, gave away my lunch, that sort of thing. It seemed to be the one way to get them to leave me alone. But this suddenly made me furious. My rucksack was like an extension of myself. Someone tossing through it was a violation. I began to struggle against Arnold’s grasp, but he tightened his grip on my arm. Anton just watched  like he was enjoying my suffering.

“What is this?” Arnold taunted as he pulled out my sketchbook.

“Stop it!” I shouted, unable to not react. 

Despite my plea, Arnold ignored me, and began thumbing through my drawings with his free hand. He laughed hysterically before stopping at one of my favorites: a raven in a side profile. He held up the sketchbook to show it to Anton. 

“Drawings of birds!” Arnold snickered. “What a schwächling!” 

I forced my way through his grasp to turn around. “Stop it!” I desperately tried to swipe my book away from him. “Give it back!”

Arnold kept his grip on my arm and held the book high above his head, just out of my reach. He laughed at me again. Then, I felt Anton grab me by the shoulders.

He flipped me around. Slammed me against the wall. It took a moment to regain my senses, and when I did, I opened my eyes to find myself at face level with Anton, my feet dangling helplessly off the ground. He wasn’t amused at my expense like Arnold was either. Instead, he seemed furious — insulted even.

“I’m going to let you in on a little something, Milo Schweinhardt,” Anton said through gritted teeth. “As a senior member here, it’s my job not to let anyone embarrass this troop. You aren’t in Reutlingen anymore. Here, the Hitlerjugend take themselves seriously, and I expect nothing less from you. Are we on the same page?”

I did everything I could not to look at him. He was so uncomfortably close to me, and I wished in that moment that I could disappear.

Anton shook me. “What are you, a half-wit? Answer me!”

I looked at him briefly, then forced myself to speak. “Yes, we’re on the same page.”

“Good.” He dropped me then took a big step back like I was a leper before smoothing down the front of his tan uniform shirt. The rage he  seemed to feel toward me was almost instantly replaced by that annoying, self-satisfied grin he’d worn before. It was disconcerting to see someone change moods so quickly. I had never met anyone quite like that before.

“One last thing,” Anton said, leaning over to look down on me. “I better not see any more of those drawings in your rucksack. They’re stupid.” With that last bit, his grin widened, like it really pleased him to say it. 

They both laughed once more, before turning around to walk away. As they left, Arnold tossed the sketchbook over his shoulder. It landed hard on the tile floor and skidded across, stopping just in front of me.  My throat tightened. Tears stung my eyes. Holding it all back, I bent over and picked up my sketchbook. I hugged it to my chest as I walked back toward the classroom. 

When I returned home, Mama met me right at the front door. She had a big smile on her face — the first I’d seen her wear in a long while. 

“How was school, Milo?” 

“Oh, it was good,” I replied, returning a smile. 

“And what about Hitlerjugend?”

I was surprised. Mama usually didn’t ask about Hitlerjugend since she disliked it so much, but it seemed like she was trying to see how I was doing. For a moment, I thought about telling her the truth. That the boys there had been awful to me. Mama had always listened when I’d told her how some students at my previous school had been. What Arnold and Anton had done to me was way worse than any of that, so I knew she would be sympathetic. But then I remembered my resolution to be responsible and self-sufficient. At sixteen, would Otto have run home to Mama to complain about being picked on? Of course not. Though, I’m pretty sure he never had been picked on. But that was beside the point. I still didn’t want to be a weakling.

I forced myself to smile even more, as I finally answered Mama’s question with a lie. “Um — it was good, too.”

Mama squinted a bit, like she didn’t quite believe me, but she nodded.

“How about your day?” I went on, trying to change the subject.

“My day was fine. I got a lot of things unpacked, your uncle Philipp dropped off the last of the living room furniture in his truck — oh, and I have a job interview on Friday!”

“A job interview? For where?”

Mama smiled, primping her short, brown curls a bit. “A fancy department store in the city center. They had an opening for a senior position in women’s clothing.”

“Well, that’s exciting. I hope you get it.”

“It would sure be nice to not work at a factory.” Mama began walking into the living room and toward the kitchen, so I followed after her. The living room looked more complete with the two small sofas and the coffee table, but there were still some boxes lying about. In the kitchen, mostly everything was unpacked and set up. As I took a seat at the small round table, I could smell something cooking in the oven. Mama opened the oven door briefly to peek inside, and more of the aroma filled the air. 

I instantly knew it was käsespätzle when I recognized the scent of savory cheese and onions. Mama must have seen my face brighten up, because she smiled as she closed the oven.

“I wanted to make you your favorite,” she said, “since it was your first day at your new school.”

“Thanks, Mama!”

She turned her attention to the stovetop above the oven, quickly peering into a large pot. As I glanced over from the table, I could see that Mama was boiling some saitenwürstle to go with the meal. The sausages also smelled delicious, making me begin to feel hungry.

“Do you need any help?” I asked her.

She glanced at me over her shoulder. “Oh, no thank you, dear. I’ll be fine.”

I shrugged a bit as Mama continued her cooking. “What time does Otto get off of his shift?” I asked after a few minutes of sitting there, taking in the smell of the food. 

“At eight, I think. We’ll have to make sure we save him enough dinner.”

Pretty soon, Mama was finished cooking and she had me fetch Lorelei and Max to join us at the dining table to eat. It was a pleasant supper, and my younger siblings were happy to discuss how their days had gone. Max was in grade four now, and was already worrying about the entrance exam he’d have to take soon to get into gymnasium. Lorelei, meanwhile was attending a local mittelschule. Much to Mama’s annoyance she’d been convinced by her friends back in Reutlingen that going to gymnasium was a waste of time for girls, so she’d skipped out on the same test that Max was preparing for. According to her, her new school was good though, and she had enjoyed her afterschool time with her new troop of the Jungmädelbund. 

Lucky her, I had thought sarcastically, remembering in a flash of unpleasantness how my extracurricular activities had gone that day.   

After supper, we all retired to our rooms, and it was then that I almost gave up on the one thing I’d loved for as long as I could remember.  As I set my rucksack down on my bed, the words Anton had said about my drawings came flooding back to me.

They’re stupid.

I pulled out my sketchbook and kneeled on the floor with it, staring at the cover. Then, as if controlled my some unseen force, I opened the book and began furiously ripping out and crumpling up the drawings. I destroyed about ten of them until I got to the picture of the raven. I paused, out of breath and sucking back tears. The raven’s eye stared back at me and I couldn’t bring myself to continue. 

It was then that I decided I’d only work on my art at home from then on.