Chapter Three
“Emilia Muller! Get down here right now!” I sat upright on my bed, slapped my book shut, and raced downstairs. “Yes, Frau Muller?” I asked, skidding into the dining room. My mother looked at me disapprovingly. “What were you doing upstairs in your room for heaven’s sake?” Frau Muller asked. “And running down the stairs? Has the League of German Girls taught you anything?” I wanted to shrug, but instead went with, “No ma’am, yes ma’am.” Frau Muller looked me over. “Are you going to the rally like that?” she asked, pointing to my casual skirt and blouse. I blushed, shaking my head before racing upstairs to change.
Quickly changing into my simple blue skirt, white blouse, and brown jacket, I hurried to do up my hair into a simple braid before being escorted to Herr Muller’s car. (Yes, it once belonged to a rich Jewish man, who has now gone on)
As soon as I stepped out of the car, Sophie rushed to me. “Have you seen the new Hitler Youth boy?” I shook my head, confused. The girls behind Sophie giggled. “He is so cute!” Gretchen whispered to her friend, who nodded. I frowned.
“Where is he?” Sophie pointed to a boy our age with wavy brown hair and a sharp angled face. Something about his expression made me curious. “One moment,” I muttered to Sophie, before hurrying over to where he was.
“Excuse me,” I asked, tapping his shoulder. I ignored the giggles that echoed through the courtyard behind me. The boy turned. “Yes?” he asked, looking slightly annoyed. I took a step back. “Sorry, I was just wondering if you knew about… something.” I yelled at myself inside my head, for being so suspicious. The boy looked confused.
“Do you mean something, or someone?” he asked, looking me right in the eyes. I hesitated. How much should I tell him? “Something,” I insisted, and a flash of something went from his eyes. Was it understanding?
“Meet me at the Cafe,” was all he said.
“What’s your name and where are you from?”
The boy rubbed his temples. “My name is Stephen, and I’m from America,” he paused there. My eyes widened. “You’re Jewish, aren’t you?” I asked, quietly.
There was no one else in the Cafe, but the waiter could definitely hear us. Stephen nodded. “I came to tell you that Hitler received your letter, and he believed it. Kind of.” My eyes widened.
Of course, the letter shouldn’t have taken too long to reach Hitler, but it shouldn’t have taken less than a week. Stephen must have read my mind, because he nodded, saying “Yes, I did push your letter forward. Carried it myself by faking the mailman role.”
“How did he react?”
“Somewhat surprised. I can’t imagine he would have ever expected such a letter.”
“But he believed it?”
Stephen nodded.
“What was his reaction?”
“He… was mad, obviously… and he immediately demanded a meeting with the Commander of the Nazis…”
“And nothing went wrong?”
“Well…”
I started forward. “What went wrong?” Stephen leaned forward in his chair. “The Commander said that he had heard of no such thing, and asked how Hitler knew it wasn’t a fake. Of course, as soon as Hitler heard that idea, he immediately ordered a group of Nazis to search the letter.”
“And what did they find?”
“Fingerprints.”
Stephen whispered the word. I gasped. “Do they know it was me?” Stephen shrugged. “I… don’t know. But the Nazis are on high patrol now, and they are ordering everyone to turn over their papers left and right. If they find your papers, you’re dead. That’s why I brought this,” he said, handing over a small package wrapped in brown paper. I unwrapped it under the table, hoping no one could see.
A small book labeled Passport in German fell into my hands. “It’s a fake passport, labeling you as a German girl living here.” Stephen explained. I frowned. “But… I already have one of these,” I said, pulling a couple of papers out of my pocket. “Just in case,” Stephen added, tucking the book into my hands. “With the Nazis, you never know.”