Under the Same Stars by Libba Bray(98)

Klara offers the commandant a plate of gingery Lebkuchen. “I made these myself, Herr Jaeger. Won’t you have one?”

“Delicious,” he says, sinking his teeth into one. “Thank you, Fr?ulein.” He takes out a small bag of treats. “Would you care for a chocolate?”

Lotte’s eyes go wide. She grabs for one and Klara slaps her hand.

“Lotte! Manners!” She sighs in apology. “Mother says she’ll have no teeth by the time she’s thirteen.”

“Well. One won’t hurt. Here you are.”

Lotte takes the small foil-wrapped treat like it’s a treasure.

Herr Jaeger says as he steps back and takes in the sight of the Bridegroom’s Oak, “So. This is the famous matchmaking tree.”

“Yes! It’s very old,” Lotte says. Her mouth is smeared with chocolate.

Herr Jaeger circles the tree slowly, then peers up at the knothole stuffed with letters. “Hmmm.” He makes the innocent hum terrifying. “Anyone could have access to this tree?” he says in a tone of voice so unflappable it could be asking for a napkin.

“Yes!” Hedy barrels in. “Isn’t it romantic?”

Herr Jaeger is still looking up at the knothole. “Perhaps. Still. It could be used by saboteurs to exchange secret plans. I will have it sealed.”

“Oh no! Please, Herr Jaeger. You mustn’t!” Sophie pleads.

Herr Jaeger’s eyebrows rise. It’s hard to tell if he is amused or suspicious. The danger line of his expressions is porous. “And why is that, Fr?ulein?”

“I-I only meant, what will those poor lost souls do then? Without the promise of true love?”

“Ah yes. Miss Lonelyhearts, who believes in magic.” The commandant’s shoulders soften a hair. He stares up once more, and Sophie and Hanna can see that behind those eyes, his mind is working. “Fair enough,” he says, stepping away from the tree at last. “I would not let it be said that I stopped young girls from finding true love.”

“Herr Jaeger,” Oskar whispers, pointing toward a spot across the clearing where a fat brown rabbit picks at a scrubby bush. Herr Jaeger nods at Oskar—go ahead. Oskar shoulders his rifle and aims. And then, alerted by some nearly imperceptible change in the air, the rabbit bolts a split second before Oskar gets off his shot.

“I almost had him,” Oskar says, embarrassed.

“You hesitated,” Herr Jaeger says. “A hunter never hesitates. He anticipates. Remember that. Thank you for the Lebkuchen. Enjoy your picnic,” the commandant says with the slightest tug of a smile. He heads back the way he came. When he’s gone, Oskar plops to the ground, sulking.

“It’s all right, Oskar! Better luck next time,” Werner says.

“It looked at me,” Oskar says quietly. “My finger was on the trigger but…”

“I’m glad you didn’t shoot the rabbit, Oskar,” Sophie says. It’s the first time she’s ever felt anything like respect for him.

Oskar’s eyes blaze. “Next time, I won’t hesitate.”

The air has gone out of the day. They gather their things for the walk home. As they pass through the trees, Sophie hears the soldiers Herr Jaeger mentioned. Their easy talk about sport carries like an echo: “… but Szepan does not allow the goal, you see…”

She can see them now, through the branches. Two soldiers, one tall and dark haired; the other shorter and blond. They stab into the earth with the cutting edge of their shovels, tamping down mounds with the blade. Something’s sticking up from the dirt. It pulses against the tall soldier’s boot with each shovelful of earth. An animal or bird, maybe, that’s gotten trapped under the dirt. Sophie wants to tell them.

“Sophie, where are you going?” Hanna says urgently.

The soldiers are deep into their conversation. “It was the best World Cup game I’ve ever seen…”

“It was the only World Cup game you’ve ever seen…”

“Still…”

“Wait a minute. A girl.”

The soldiers pause just as Sophie gets a perfect view of the thing fluttering against the soldier’s boot. It’s the stiffening fingers of a lifeless hand pulsing cruelly with the weight of every drop of dirt.



* * *



Everyone is silent on the walk back to town. No one talks of what they’ve witnessed. The air has turned oppressive and soupy, a distant rain gathering strength. Lotte runs ahead on the road like a bellwether. “Watch me turn a cartwheel!” She tumbles across the road in a flurry of skirt. “You didn’t even watch!”

“Enough, Lotte,” Klara barks but there’s no real energy behind it.

Lotte isn’t giving up. She is powered by the desperate need particular to all unwanted children to prove themselves lovable to someone, anyone. “I can climb that tree over there!”

“No, you can’t! You’re too clumsy,” Klara scolds, but Lotte is already running full speed across the brittle field.

The day sits heavily on Sophie’s mind, as heavy as the humidity. The whole world has gone mad. She will never be able to unsee that hand reaching up from the floor of the forest like it was begging for help. Out in the field, Lotte scrambles up the giant tree, reaching for the next branch and the next, disappearing into the decaying leaves of autumn. “Watch me!” she calls.