My Long List of Impossible Things by Michelle Barker

Author:Michelle Barker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Annick Press
Published: 2020-01-14T17:13:52+00:00

Closer to the shoe shop I heard shouting—a mixture of Russian and German. Soviet soldiers were beating someone up—another suspected Nazi, probably. I pressed myself into a doorway and peered down the road: three soldiers, one older man.

Liesel would have found a way to stop this. She would have walked over and diverted the soldiers with something clever, a made-up story about Dmitri needing them in the square. She wouldn’t even have hesitated. Already I’d waited too long. This was where cowards were born, surely—in that moment of hesitation. What would happen if I intervened? The soldiers would turn their attention on me, and I’d be the next girl dead by the roadside with her privates exposed.

A couple of overweight Volkspolizei lumbered toward the fight, but the soldiers didn’t even look up.

I was about to head on to the shoemaker’s when the pungent stench of diesel filled the air. The black Mercedes rounded a corner and stopped down the road. Out stepped Blue Eyes. He strutted toward the scene in his important way, shouting in Russian.

I edged around the corner, slipped between two buildings, and emerged almost right behind the officer’s car.

I knew I should just walk away. But I couldn’t. That black Nazi car—how could I not think about the Goldsteins? And . . . death camps? When the Gestapo had shown up at our door, everything about them had been cold. Even their black leather coats had winter sewn into the lining. And now the Soviets were driving that car. The Soviets, who were just as cold, who pointed their guns at women—at Mutti—and ended their lives.

I pressed my hand flat against the black body of the car. It was warm. My fingernails weren’t sharp enough to do any damage to the paint. But when I opened my basket, there were the scissors Otto had given me.

We treat the Germans the way they treated us. Blue Eyes’ words echoed in my ear. Well, fair was fair. I took out the scissors, looked both ways, and made a deep scratch across the passenger door. Wait till I told Liesel about this. For once, I wasn’t a coward. I would have revenge—and then Hilde would have to forgive me for Mutti. I longed to see Blue Eyes saunter back to his car, the smug look on his face turning to outrage when he saw the scratch.

But scratched paint wouldn’t stop the car from running. I studied the tires. The tread looked thick and difficult to puncture, but the side of the tire was smooth, maybe thinner. It took one quick thrust, and then came a hiss of air that thrilled me at first—and then terrified me. What had I done?

Somewhere behind me a door slammed shut, and in a panic I hurried away. My heart raced at top speed. Don’t run. Only guilty people ran. I was fifty meters down the road when I realized the fighting had stopped. I glanced back and saw Blue Eyes helping the German man to his feet.

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