Page 19 of The Little Liar
“I hate the Germans. Don’t you hate the Germans?”
“You’re not supposed to hate people.”
“You can hate them. It’s different.”
“You’re supposed to like people.”
Fannie exhaled. It was the wrong time to ask the question, but doing so made her feel less frightened.
“Nico?”
“What?”
“Do you like me?”
He took a moment to respond. Fannie felt a knot in her throat.
“Yes, I like you, Fannie,” he whispered.
***
An hour later, they inched the door open. The house remained deserted but now so were the streets. Nico went to a closet and gave Fannie his brother’s raincoat.
“Put this over your head so they don’t see who you are,” he said.
“All right.”
“Where will you go now?”
“To my father’s shop. He’ll be there. He’s always there.”
“Good.”
“If he’s not there, can I come back?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Nico.”
Suddenly, without thinking, Fannie lurched forward and hooked her arms around Nico’s neck, pushing her face alongside his. She brushed her lips across his cheek and ever so briefly made contact with his mouth.
“Bye,” she mumbled.
Nico blinked.
“Bye,” he said, hoarsely.
She slipped out the door and into the street.
***
Her father’s apothecary was to the west, less than a mile down Egnatia Street. Fannie wore the raincoat Nico had given her, which was too big for her skinny frame. She yanked the collar up to her ears.
As she walked along the slickened cobblestone, she thought about how they had kissed. It was a kiss, wasn’t it? She had never kissed a boy before. And while she would have preferred that he initiated it, it still counted in her mind, and the fact that he didn’t seem to object and maybe even liked it made her light-headed. Already she was thinking about when she would see him again.
That brought a lightness to Fannie’s step, and she carried that lightness for the length of her journey, right until the moment she turned a corner and froze in her tracks.
The street was jammed with a procession of Jews walking slowly in the drizzle, their heads down. They carried boxesor suitcases. Some pushed carts. They, too, were being exiled from their homes and led like cattle to the Baron Hirsch neighborhood.
