Under the Same Stars by Libba Bray(39)
“We’re going to have to do something about your look, though. Here. Give me your jean jacket.”
“Why?”
“You want to be a real punk, right?”
“I don’t know.”
Lena grinned around her smoke. “That’s a perfect punk answer.”
Reluctantly, Jenny removed the jean jacket and handed it over. Lena flattened the jacket across her knees. “Here. Hold one edge tight.”
“My mom bought this for me. At Dillard’s,” Jenny said, holding down the edges as Lena took out a black marker and drew an anarchy symbol across the back. She removed her Slits button and speared it through the front pocket. “Here. The hair we’ll think about later, yes?”
Jenny slipped the jacket back over her pink Izod. She felt like a poseur but also a little dangerous.
“Do you have a record player at your place?”
“Yes.”
“Super. Let’s go. We must start your education.”
“I can’t. I promised I’d play some violin for Frau Hermann.”
“Oh, yes, the mysterious Frau Hermann who might be a witch. Has she had any luck with the—what is it?”
“The Bridegroom’s Oak.” Jenny shook her head. “I don’t think any men have responded yet.”
“Maybe she’s not after men.” Lena raised her eyebrows up and down.
Jenny’s face heated up.
“Did she tell you what happened to those two girls?”
“Not yet.”
“I heard a story about these cousins who used to lure Nazis into the forest for sex; then they stabbed the bastards and buried them there. No one ever found the bodies.”
Jenny had an unwelcome image of Frau Hermann having sex in her cardigan.
“I’m not sure if Frau Hermann’s story is, like, real,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. She has all of these fairy-tale books. And the story feels kind of like a fairy tale, too? I don’t know. It’s weird.”
“So you think this story is just made-up? Why would she do that?”
“I think she’s lonely and needs attention. Maybe she thinks I’ll keep coming around if she tells me a little bit of the story each time.”
“You should take me sometime. I could tell you if she’s telling the truth. Unless she kills us both. Maybe don’t eat the pastry. It could be poison.”
Jenny laughed. “Anyway. I have to get back.”
“Here. I’ll walk you to the station so no beautiful girls can lead you into the forest for sex and murder!” Lena gave Jenny a sly grin. “Or maybe just sex?”
Jenny blushed. “Oh yeah. Fer sure.”
“There are some very pretty German girls, you know…” The way Lena said it was mocking but not.
“Oh. I’m not … not. You know. That way.”
Lena was quiet for a second. “Schade.”
“What does schade mean?” Jenny asked.
“Look it up.”
At the station, Jenny glanced over her shoulder at Lena. She was still standing on the corner. In her baggy blue janitor’s uniform, her hair a ragged magenta crown, she was the brightest thing in all of Berlin’s gray.
“See you tomorrow?” Jenny called.
Wearing a wolfish grin, Lena spread her arms wide and walked backward with utter confidence. “Unless there’s a revolution first.”
On the train home, Jenny opened up her English-German dictionary, searching until she found schade.
But there were two definitions.
A sin. Shame.
But also: a pity; too bad.
* * *
Jenny’s first crush had happened at the age of eight. She’d been watching The Brady Bunch with her mom. During a close-up of Marcia’s face, Jenny had sighed and said, “I’m in love with Marcia Brady.”
“Girls don’t fall in love with other girls,” her mother had said.
“Why not?”
“They just don’t.”
“But I am!”
“Honey, you shouldn’t say that to anyone. People will get the wrong idea about you.”
“What do you mean?”
Her mother hadn’t answered and that had worried Jenny. What could be so terrible about being in love with Marcia Brady that her mother couldn’t bring herself to talk about it? Instead, she’d pulled Jenny close and said, “Oh, now, don’t worry. You’ll grow out of it. What about Peter Brady? He’s very cute, don’t you think?”
After that, Jenny had stopped watching the show altogether. She never told anyone about the other crushes. Not even Richard. Why had she and Richard never talked about what they could each sense in the other? What was it that kept people from telling each other the truth about themselves?
Schade. Shame.
Schade. Too bad.
Jenny lay in her bed under thick slices of soft German moon, her hand restless at her belly. She thought of Lena and only Lena. Later, in a tangle of sheets, her body shiny with new sweat, Jenny fell asleep and whatever she dreamed was lost to her by morning.
* * *
“We start your musical education right away. It is an emergency!” Lena announced as she opened the door to the squat while tugging on an old bomber jacket. It had rained all morning. The air was sticky. It brought Jenny back to last night and her thoughts of Lena. She blushed, wondering if Lena could read it on her.