Nico eased the door open.
“This is where I stay sometimes.”
“Can I see it?”
“It’s pretty dark.”
“That’s OK. I still want to see it.”
“All right.”
He let her crawl inside. She pulled the door shut behind her. Nico was right. It was dark, and there wasn’t much room. She felt funny being this near to him without seeing his face—a bit dizzy, a bit warm, but happy.
“How long do you stay in here?” she whispered.
“It depends,” he whispered back. “Sometimes I listen to what they’re saying outside.”
“Isn’t that like spying?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Do you think I shouldn’t do it?”
Fannie smiled in the darkness, happy that he sought her opinion. “I think it’s OK. It’s not really spying if you don’t mean to.”
Fannie heard the other children talking and pulling out chairs. She knew at any moment they would be called for school. She hoped it wouldn’t happen before she got to ask Nico a question, a question she had been practicing in her head for a while. The question was: “Nico, do you like me?”
She didn’t get to ask it. There was a loud noise, then the sound of heavy footsteps and German voices hollering orders and things being moved about. Frightened, Fannie found Nico’s arm and slid her hand down to his wrist and fingers.
Outside, they could hear things being dragged across the floor. Doors opened. Doors closed. They heard Nico’s mother yelling his name, but both of them were too scared to move.
“What should we do?” Fannie whispered.
“My father says if the Germans come, you hide,” Nico said.
“So we should stay here?”
“I think so.”
Fannie felt her knees trembling. She squeezed Nico’s hand. They stayed that way for several minutes. Finally, not hearing any noise outside, Nico eased open the crawl space door. The house was empty. They tiptoed to the windows, pulled the curtains, and looked down to see Nico’s family surrounded by soldiers. Nico pulled the curtains closed and they hurried back into the crawl space.
Fannie was crying. She wiped the tears with her palms.
“I’m really scared,” she whispered.
“Don’t be,” Nico said. “My papa is strong. He won the war. He’ll come back for us.”
“Can I hold your hand again?”
“OK.”
They fumbled in the dark until their grips locked.
“I’m sorry my fingers are wet,” Fannie said.
“It’s OK.”
“Where do you think they are going?”
“I don’t know. Maybe to that place where you have to answer questions and then they let you come home.”