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January, 1942

Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap
"...so you see class, the Aryan race is derived from the Vikings. Fierce warriors who..." My foot bounced against the floor as I watched the seconds tick by on the school clock that hung above Hitler's likeness.
Twenty minutes.
I glanced out the window where a fresh powder had settled on the window during our lunch break. The dangling icicles looked like molded sugar dripping in the sun. When had I ever seen molded sugar? Oh yes, it had to have been from the baker's window several years ago. The cake was more of a novelty, far too beautiful to eat. Otto, Jan, Clara, Jacob and I had stared at it for a good long time with our noses pressed against the glass. It looked like a wedding cake, really, with three tiers covered in white frosting, slices of strawberries, and the sugar flowers resting on top.
"Who would ever eat that?" Clara had wondered aloud. "I can't even imagine how much money it would cost."
"How do they make it?" Jan asked.
"They heat up sugar until it boils, then pour it into molds. When it dries, you get the flowers," I answered. Otto stamped his feet in the snow to warm them.
"Where do you think they got the strawberries? It's the middle of winter." Just then, the baker came out with his fists on his hips. He was a big, frightening man, with a red face and a mustache almost as thick as his arms which were burned from years spent over the ovens.
"Tut mir leid, Herr," Otto said. As the oldest, he would be held responsible for loitering by the window. Instead of giving Otto a good whack with a spoon, the baker went inside and came back with a few pieces of caramel candy.
"As a Christmas gift," he said without a smile, before shooing us on our way. We cried out our thanks as we left, sprinting down the side walk with the caramel. What I wouldn't give for sugar now, or eggs-
"Fräulein Fischer? Fräulein Fischer!" I jumped as the teacher's voice sent me crashing back to reality. "Do you or do you not know the answer to the question?"
      "Um...I..." I felt myself blush furiously.
      He sighed, exasperated. "Fräulein Fischer, must I continue to drag you from your-"
BRRRRRING!
      Saved by the bell, I thought. My class shoved their sheafs of papers and books into their desks before throwing on coats and gloves.
"Are you coming or what?" Jacob impatiently demanded as I slung my bag over my shoulders. "It's New Year's Eve, we have to get home!"
"Jacob Rheder, may I speak with you?" Jacob stiffened, and turned to face Herbert Weber. Herbert was an older boy, around the age Otto would have been, with sandy blonde hair and pale blue eyes. Tall, handsome enough, I guess.
"Ja? What do you want?" Herbert twisted his hat in his hands. "I would like to inquire about your sister, Clara."
"Go on," Jacob said with a twinge of distrust.
"Well, you see I...I was wondering if...will your sister be at home this evening?"
"Of course she will be, where else would she be?" I nudged Jacob in the arm, trying to subdue his sour mood.
"May I stop by and see your sister, this evening?"
"Now see here-!"
I stepped around Jacob before an argument could ensue. "Clara Rheder will not be at her home this evening, the Rheder family will all be at my house. To celebrate the new year." Both boys simply stared at me. "You are welcome at my home, as my guest." I could see Jacob roll his eyes far too obviously for his own good.
"Danke, Alina. I will see you-both of you-this evening, then." Once he was out of ear shot, Jacob turned to me, steam blowing out of his ears.
"What on earth were you thinking?" he demanded. We began our walk through the long school hallways full of excited children and Nazi bunting toward the great front doors.
"It is my home, he wants to see your sister, therefore he will be my guest. My home, my decisions." It was hard to keep up with Jacob's angry stomps through the snow, which rose nearly to my knees.
"Can we even feed another person, this evening? The rations are tight, you know that. Especially since Christmas."
I shrugged. "Surely you could spare poor Herbert Weber a morsel, couldn't you?" I stopped in the middle of the stone bridge I had been pushed off of by my loyal comrade some two summers ago. "What does it matter to you any way, if he likes her?"
Jacob inhaled deeply and glowered at the frozen river. "Because I am the man of the house now, and it's my  job to protect her. Who knows what he could want with her? You know, in those health classes we were given in Hitler Youth, do you know what they said? They said that at a certain age-"
"Jacob, you're not the man of the house. That's your father's job," I said incredulously, speaking over his ramble.
"Not for much longer," he said softly.
"What do you mean? Is he ill?"
"His face turned red with fury. "No, stupid! He got conscripted! He has to go!"
I stood in wretched silence. Jacob shook his head, "he's been conscripted by the Nazi army, and now that Hitler loving son of a bitch is going to be following my  sister like a lost puppy. I swear to God, I hate the Nazis! I hate them, all of them! They'll burn in hell, all of th-mmfph!"
I slammed my gloved hand over Jacob's mouth. "Shut up, they'll hear you!" He shook me off, "let them hear me! Let the whole world hear me! See if I care!" I snatched his arm and began to drag him across the bridge toward our village.
"Don't be a fool!"
For a moment he stared at me, and looked as though he would either cry or scream. Then, without warning, lunged and grabbed my face in both hands, before kissing me. It wasn't at all what I thought it would be like, beautiful like in the movies. It was angry, rash, and fueled not by affection but by hate and adrenaline. He shoved me away from him, before shoving his hands in his pockets and stalking home. I couldn't believe this! Jacob Rheder had stolen my first kiss, shoved me like he was disgusted, and left me alone in the cold. Some gentleman he was! I scooped up my bag which had mysteriously dropped in the process and stomped my way home. Jacob thought he didn't want Herbert Weber in his presence tonight, Jacob was the one who ought to be careful in mine! Or better yet, not even show up at all! Oh, what I wouldn't do to smack that boy right then and there!
"I'm home, Mama!" I called and half tossed my bag onto the table.
"Come now, why the long face?" she asked. Mama had been in a better mood since Christmas. I had been sick with a small cold between the holidays, and taking care of someone seemed to had make her feel better. It wasn't so bad, really, but if it made her happy...well, I was willing to do it.
"I..." oh to tell, or not to tell? That was the question. "I don't know, just a bad mood I guess." The answer: not to tell. I didn't exactly want to go telling the world about my horrendous first kiss experience. I pulled on an apron and began peeling a few skinny potatoes before she could ask any more questions. I heard the mail box open and shut from outside.
      "A letter? But we haven't had a letter since...not since the boys left..." she dabbed her eyes with the edge of her apron. I gave her a kiss on the cheek. She said left as if they had gone on holiday, not decaying and missing, but I let the comment go.
      "I know, I miss them too."
      She patted my hand. "But Jan will be back soon." I blinked in shock.
      "What?"
      She stared at me as if I were merely a child who did not understand. "Yes, Jan will be back soon." Mama turned to peel a carrot while I stood in the door way of the kitchen, confused beyond words. I knew that a mother's premonition could be strong, but surely this was too far for a mother's love. "Weren't you going to get the mail?" she asked with a disarming smile. I nodded and went to the front door and hurried down the steps. I knew you could go mad from grief, but surely not my own mother, right? I shoved my hand into the cold black box and came across a single letter addressed to the entire family, Otto included. It was decorated with water stains and the ink had run considerably, but one name stood out clear as day
Jan Fischer
I stood in shock until I heard a cry come from the house. Dashing back inside, I discovered my mother curled in a ball on the kitchen floor, clutching one bloody wrist. I gasped and kicked the paring knife away from her so it scuttled across the floor, squatting in front of her with my hands on her shoulders. She was sobbing so hard she couldn't breathe.
"It was an accident! It was an accident, I swear!" Glancing down, I could see the perfect line across her wrist, this was no accident. I grabbed the kitchen towel and pressed it to her wrist, trying to clot the bleeding.
      "Shh...shh...it's ok, it's alright," I whispered into her hair.
      "They're dead! They're both dead! Oh my boys, my boys!" Mama began to wail, not seeming to notice my hands still clutching her wrist. I snatched the letter from my pocket.
      "No, Mama, you were right. Look, it's from Jan." I held it out to her, and she stared as if it was the most precious thing in the world to her.
      "Oh...oh how...wonderful..." she whispered. Gently, I stood up and extended my arms.
       "Let me help you get cleaned up." She nodded weakly, and allowed me to half carry her up the stairs. I ran water in the tub and stripped off her dress, which was now stained with angry red blotches. While she soaked in peace, soothed by Jan's letter, I took the dress down to rub baking soda into the blood stains. Papa threw open the door with a smile just as I was walking by.
"Happy New Year, Liebchen!" He gave me a kiss on the forehead. "Well, not quite, anyway. Tonight!" His voice caught when he saw Mama's dress. "Where is she?"
"Upstairs. She'll tell you everything." He took the steps two at a time, calling Mama's name as he went.
-------------------
Our New Year's party went as planned. The Rheder family joined us, with a bashful Jacob. I didn't speak to him, but rather ignored him entirely. Herbert Weber emerged from the snow around ten o'clock, with a small bouquet of flowers for Clara. I wondered where he got them from at this time of year, but his family was quite well off, surely he would find a way.
Around 11:50, Jacob caught my arm.
"You look...very pretty," he said awkwardly.
"Danke," I said politely without looking up as I refilled his plate with some of the potato soup Mama and I had made. She was doing well, oddly enough, sitting gracefully in a chair in a long sleeved dress to hide her bandage.
      "I need to talk to you, alone."
      I nodded to the clock, "It's nearly midnight, we need to stay inside."
      "Please? Outside?"
      I sighed, "fine." We slid out the back door, but no one was likely to realize our absence with all the laughter and joy coming from inside. From the back steps I could see a figure of a body with two heads, which after a moment I deciphered was Herbert and Clara's shadows against the light of the house.
"Listen, I'm sorry about earlier," Jacob murmured. "Are you mad?"
"Of course I'm mad!" I spluttered, "you stole my first kiss!"
"'Stole your first kiss'? That's so stupid you can't steal a kiss!"
"Yes you can! You stole mine!"
"Fine! I don't want it, you can have it back!" He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me.
I pushed him back. "Well, you already ruined it! I don't want it either!" I stood on tip toe and kissed him back. What was I doing?
We stood silently on the step for a moment, the light snow puffing around our warm breath.
Bong
Bong
Bong
"Happy new year!" people cried. The church bells from a few blocks away proclaimed the arrival of 1942. We could see the silhouettes of other families and friends hugging and celebrating from house to house. A few even ran into the street and starting singing.
Bong
       Bong
       Bong
      "Jacob, I-"
      He cut me off with a kiss
Bong
      Bong
      Bong
     A real kiss.
Bong
      Bong
      Bong
     "Happy New Year," he whispered.
Bong
Bong
Bong
------------------
That night, I lay in bed puzzling over the days events, Jan's lamb tucked under one arm and Katze snoring at my back. As I was looking down at the lamb, I remembered the letter and crept down the stairs to retrieve it. Upon returning to my room, I opened it as gently as possible and sat down to read. In Jan's childish hand, it read:
Dear Papa, Mama, Otto and Alina,
I am doing very well. The bread is very good here. We work during the day and all live together in our own houses at night. We are very happy, there is plenty of food for everyone. We are farmers now, and sell some of the food as well. The food grows very quickly, and is very good for us. I still go to school. We are given three meals a day here, and there is lots of food for everyone. I miss you, and love you very much.
Love,
Jan
It was an odd little letter, but an odd letter was better than no letter at all. Why on earth would he mention the food so much? I remembered what Otto had been like when he was a bit older than Jan, always hungry. But wasn't Jan too young still to be always hungry? I shrugged, maybe he was growing. I turned out the light and snuggled against the lamb, lazily tracing circles on Katze's back.
      Then it hit me.
      Jan was rambling about the food because he was starving. They all were.