Under the Same Stars by Libba Bray(70)

“Don’t be an idiot. The friend’s! In Berlin. He’ll be staying here for a while.”

“Is he handsome?” Klara, naturally.

“They say he is. His family is from Argentina.”

“Ohhhh,” the girls said, excited. They’d never met anyone from Argentina and even a German of Argentine origin was something. Besides, Argentina was a neutral country so it was all right to like them, according to their parents.

Over the next day, information was gathered and pieced together. The visitor’s name was Egon Wagner. He was a painter. An art student in Berlin, where he’d become friends with Leon. His family had gone back to Argentina for the weather—his father’s health—but Egon had stayed on to finish his studies.

“I heard from Annalise who got it from Ilse who heard from her aunt who was talking with Frau Wieck at the beauty parlor—did you know Frau Wieck dyes her hair to look younger? Well, she does!”

“Gott in Himmel, Gerda, your stories are like the Bible! Get on with it!” Klara griped.

“I’m getting there, aren’t I? Anyway, Frau Wieck told Ilse’s aunt who told Ilse who passed it on to Annalise that he’s a very talented painter. He’s taken a studio in town. He has a commission to paint for the war office. Artwork for the Reich. Posters and whatnot.”

“Ohhhh,” the girls said again.

“Does he have a sweetheart?” Klara asked.

“Not that anyone knows, and believe me, Ilse’s aunt asked. I suppose he could have one in Argentina. But that’s an awfully long way to go for a kiss. Apparently, Leon and some of the others are taking him out rowing this afternoon.”

“Ohhhh,” said the girls.

By three o’clock, the girls had positioned themselves on the grassy hill just above the lake. While waiting—but without wanting to look as if they were—they swooped artlessly through the motions of a gymnastics routine. But then Gerda thought she saw the boys approaching and missed her cue to catch Ilse, who dropped to the ground with a sickening thud. It was a full minute before Ilse could catch her breath again, but once she did she attacked Gerda and had to be pulled off by the others. Finally, the girls settled onto their blanket and grew sleepy in the warm embrace of the sun, and that was when the boys crested the top of the reedy hill in their swimming outfits and strolled down the dirt path toward the lake. It was Karl and Oskar, Werner and Günter. Lagging behind were Leon and a lanky, broad-shouldered stranger, presumably Egon.

“Can you see him from here?” Hilde asked.

“Still too far. Lotte. Give me the binoculars,” Klara demanded. She was cross about having to bring Lotte along but her mother had insisted.

“But I’m looking at the birds! One caught a fish in its mouth!”

Klara stuck out her palm. “Lotte! Now!”

Lotte handed them over. “They’re just stinky boys,” she grumbled.

Klara stood on tiptoe and pressed the binoculars to her eyes.

“Can you see him yet?” Sophie asked.

“No. Karl and Oskar are in the way. Karl is tall. And Oskar is broad.”

“Oskar has really filled out, ja?” Ilse said appreciatively. It was true. Where before he’d been a bit ropey, he was now muscular, like a weight lifter, and his skin had been burnished by summer sun. “Hanna, are you and Oskar…?”

“Maybe,” Hanna said with a shrug.

Sophie knew Hanna the Barbarian didn’t really want Oskar but she didn’t necessarily want someone else to have him, either.

“I see him! He’s good-looking! He has a serious sort of face, like a film star,” Klara reported.

“Let us see!” The other girls rushed her for the binoculars, but Klara held them away. “They’re coming! Look busy or bored,” she instructed.

The girls scurried to their places on the blanket. Ilse and Hildegard pretended to be engrossed in a magazine while Sophie opened her book of fairy tales, which she read quietly to Lotte, who loved them, especially the bloody ones. Klara slipped on a pair of tortoiseshell sunglasses that she thought made her look even more glamorous and, most annoyingly, did. Hanna stared out at the lake.

“Hello!” Werner called in his booming voice. He always sounded as if he were leading a parade. “Did you ladies come to watch us row?”

“Oh, hello,” Klara said, feigning surprise. “Why, no, we had no idea you were coming.”

“You should watch. We’re very good!”

“Hello, Hanna. How are you today?” Oskar said.

Hanna leaned back on her elbows so that he couldn’t block her sun. “The same as yesterday.”

Werner laughed his big laugh. “When did you become so cynical, Hanna?”

Hanna didn’t answer. Sophie wondered if Oskar knew about Hanna and Leon yet.

“Leon, who is your friend? Don’t be rude. Introduce us,” Klara cooed. She’d perched on her left hip, positioning her legs in such a way that they looked their longest. It was an awkward angle, but she was working hard to make it look natural.

“This is my friend from Berlin, Egon. He will be staying with me for a while. Egon, this is Klara. Hedy. Ilse. Gerda. Hildegard. Klara’s sister, Lotte. Sophie. And Karl’s sister, Hanna.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Egon said, but he was gazing only at Hanna. Something passed between them; Sophie could feel it in the air like moments before snow arrived. Hanna dipped her head and looked away. Sophie had never known Hanna to break a gaze first. She was always the one in control.