I Am Defiance_A Novel of WWII by Jenni L. Walsh

Author:Jenni L. Walsh [Walsh, Jenni L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Goodreads: 51116430
Publisher: #PrB.rating#4.7
Published: 2021-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

Angelika?

I tell myself I’m wrong. The square and the boulevard are a sea of people, hundreds of bodies—marching, fleeing, fighting, falling, jostling, shouting. But there she is, her arm linked with another girl’s, and together they walk with purpose down the road with an older boy and third girl as if they’re part of a parade.

But parades are nothing like this. They’re happy, not dangerous.

The boy leads their row, taller, his strides bigger and stronger. I watch as he pulls on the girls on either side of him. And how one of the girls pulls on Angelika’s linked arm. I see Angelika straining to maintain her stride. To me, it’s obvious her gait isn’t like the others and that Angelika’s hip is bothering her.

But most of all, it’s her simple presence that threatens to choke me. People are being arrested. Only months ago, an entire group of students was executed for their anti-Nazi posters. People disappear every day, never to be seen again.

“Eyes and ears,” as Papa says.

It doesn’t take much to hear or see Angelika today.

Inside the fountain, I step in front of Marianne to block her view of my sister. If only there was a way to step in front of all the storm troopers or all the other Nazi officials here or any other Nazi supporters within the crowd.

I look again, my eye catching on the brown-haired girl next to Angelika. Beneath their hats and scarves, who they are isn’t instantly obvious. I’m thankful for that. I don’t know who the girl is, but my sister’s new hair matches hers, sticking out from beneath their identical hats.

My guess is the girl is Sophie.

My guess is that Angelika recently cut her hair to look like Sophie’s.

My sister’s new hairstyle isn’t the issue, though. Anger spikes in me because this girl protected my sister at the factory, only to yank her down the street in a protest.

I close my eyes, breathing in the cold air, my mind numb to what I should do to save my sister. But then everyone in the street scatters. I frantically search for Angelika, but I lose her in the commotion. More than one body is facedown against the ground, the knees of storm troopers on their backs. The other protesters leap over them, flee around them, shouting out final protests.

The square is thinning of people, leaving Marianne and me huddled together in the drained fountain. Suddenly I feel exposed. Then the angriest voice I’ve ever heard screams at us, “Get out of here!”

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