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September-October

"I will not!" Jan screamed, "I will not, I will not, I-will-not!" Jan stood in the center of the room, arms crossed, his dress shirt and coat strewn across the bed.
"You have to!" I yelled back.
"You don't have to!" Jan's excuse for everything was that I didn't have to. If I didn't have to, you could bet that Jan would raise hell and high water to get his way. Otto burst into the room.
"We're leaving in five minutes," he said.
"He won't put on his shirt and jacket!" I cried, exasperated. Otto sighed, picked up the clothing, and turned to Jan.
"No!" he cried and hid behind my dress.
"Come on now, Jan. You're a big boy." Otto was bribing him now. "You're nearly seven. You're a big boy." This struck a cord; a glaring Jan shuffled forward. Close enough: Otto snagged him before he could squirm away.
"How come I have to wear a star and you don't?" Jan asked again, more civil this time.
"Because you're Jewish." Otto answered smoothly. Jan furrowed his brow and vehemently shook his head.
"I go to church with you." Otto pondered for a response as he fastened the buttons on the collar.
"Your old parents were Jewish by blood, and so are you."
"But Mama and Papa are my parents." Otto began to adjust the jacket, then shuffled behind Jan to tie his tie.
"Well, your parents before Mama and Papa." The Great Otto didn't seem to notice what he was saying, his eyes were studying the mirror as he flipped the fabric around and around, creating a knot.
"I don't like it," Jan said, inhaling sharply as my older brother adjusted the tightness. Otto took the frustrated and confused boy by his shoulders.
"It won't be for very long. Don't worry," his grey blue eyes met mine in the mirror.
My eyes. "Everything will be fine. And no matter what happens, we will be together." Jan turned his head to look up at him; like a baby bird to its parent.
"What?" Jan questioned. I sucked in my breath.
"We'll be alright," Otto finished. "Always. Isn't that right, Alina?" he said with a desperate smile.
"Yes." I chocked out. No smile, just a half hearted nod. "And we will also be late to church if we do not hurry." Jan, still not happy with his predicament, stomped out of the room behind Otto.
Church was uneventful. No one had died, no one was born, no one had gotten married. The sermon was dry for the most part; I didn't listen, really. My thoughts were on Jan. Poor Jan, he'd gone all through summer just agreeing to the star, not questioning the little six pointed yellow fabric, until today. It wasn't hard to guess why. I let my mind wander back to the first day of school...

I sat at my desk, tracing the engravings of countless initials of students past, and flew to my feet with the rest of the students when the teacher entered. Frau Schmidt had the appearance of smelling something foul after having gotten slammed in the face with a door: her eyes were forever squinted, she had a permanent scowl, her nose was squished into an upturned shape, similar to that of a pig's. Her outward appearance transparently showed her personality: her skirt and jacket were without wrinkles, her black heels were corset-constraint worthy, and her bun pulled so tight I wondered how her hair didn't fall out. She spun a perfect 180 degrees to face the portrait of the Füher above the black board, and raised her right arm a perfect 45.
"Heil, Hitler! Heil, Hitler!" I was going through the the motions, no longer realizing what I was saying. Instead of deeply meaning my daily pledge to serve, fight, and die for the Füher, I took in the string of Nazi pennants draping the perimeter of the classroom. New, a little much for my taste, but what did it matter.
Frau Schmidt turned and motioned us to take our seats. Snatching a piece of chalk, the began to write. I gasped inaudibly  as she made an about face to the class as I read the phrases:
The Jew is your enemy
The Jew is the enemy of Hitler
The Jew is the enemy of Germany

"Eva Strauss, Alfons Schäfer, Alexander König!" We watched as the three selected students walked with a cautious air to the front of the room. They stood in a line, the yellow stars on their jackets practically glowing against the tan fabric. Frau Schmidt went on to explain that they were "Judedreckig" and other various insults. When they were allowed to sit, I noticed tears streaming down Eva's face. Teacher noticed, called her back, smacked her knuckles with a ruler, then permitted her to sit.
Eva and the others received no comfort during the lunch break, to do so was considered a misdemeanor to one's reputation. Comfort a Jew? Never, who would have thought of it. But children in other grades at the tables around my class's were discussing similar happenings in their own classrooms. My heart sank; poor Jan. Forced to stand infront of the class and hear such terrible things. He was too young, he didn't understand. I turned and located his table. He sat alone, at the end, and by some magic looked right at me. His face was covered with tears before he buried his face in his arms.