clever, know-it-all Anne can't see it.
"But we do know!" She says it too loudly. Even though it's
suppertime and all the workers have gone home, she should still be quiet. "We know that they want to get rid of us, and so what are they doing with us when they round us up?"
Everyone's silent. Even Anne notices it, but maybe she thinks it's that we disagree with her. Maybe she can't see that questions are something we ask ourselves alone, and at night. We ask them when all we can hear is the wind at the window and the church bells striking the hours. We don't ask them out loud. Only Anne does thatâand then she feels bad about it, and so suddenly it's everyone else's fault.
She leaps up and flounces down the stairs.
"Anne!" says her father.
"Be careful on those stairs!" hisses Mrs. Frank. Anne stops and turns to her.
"You don't care about me hurting myself," she hisses. "You're just worried about us being found!"
"Anne!" Mr. Frank loud-whispers.
"You've raised a very spoiled child," mutters Mutti.
Margot stares at her plate very hard; she breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth. I stand up and ask to be excused.
"Now, there's a polite boy," smiles Mutti.
"Good Lord, come down and give me a cigarette for my trials!" mutters Papi. I think Margot grins beneath her hair.
I'm blushing again. I hate it when Mutti praises me in front of the othersâespecially for something so stupid.
***
Bad news, Turkey hasn't joined the war; instead it's just having a think about not being neutral. It might not have to think so hard if it was Jewish.
MARCH 24, 1943â PETER DISCOVERS A BREAK-IN
Sometimes I can't stand the atmosphere in the Annex. Margot feels the same, I know. She deals with it by doing chores and reading. If it's the evening or the weekend I go and find Boche down in the storeroom, or even all the way down to the warehouse on the ground floor.
I can only go downstairs on weekends, or evenings, of course. At other times the office and warehouse workers are around. I like slipping silently in my socks all the way down the secret staircase. I like getting further and further away from the Annex. I have to come down at night, though, to bolt the door, and back again in the morning to unbolt it so Mr. Kugler can use his key.
It's dark in the storeroom, just like it is everywhere in the Annexâonly darker, in fact, because the windows are completely blacked out. And it smells. "It smells of the world, Peter!" Mr. Frank saysâand he's right. I can identify the smells now. Pepper especially. It makes the cats sneeze.
Anne and Margot hate it down here, they think it's creepy. That's good because it means I get it all to myself. It takes a while for your eyes to adjust in the dark, but then it's fine. And it's quiet. Just me and Boche, purring, I like it.
I'm playing with Boche, kneeling down in the nearly dark and holding a bean in one of the hands behind my back.
"Guess?" I whisper, and show Boche both hands. He leans forward, sniffs at my hands. His whiskers tickle. He sits back and stares and then delicately lifts a paw and taps my left hand. I turn it over. Open it. The bean is there. "Clever Boche!" I whisper and we nod at each other and begin again. I hide the bean behind my back, bring my hands around, but suddenly Boche doesn't want to playâhe turns his face away.
"Hey!" I whisper. "Mouse?" But he doesn't answer, just stalks toward the warehouse door and then back againâpushing his head hard against my knees.
"What?" I rub his head. His skull feels so small beneath his fur. I don't like that. He pushes and pushes against my hands. I kneel down and look into his eyes: "What is it?" But he twists his head away from me and stalks toward the door again ... the sound crashes through the air.
I jump. I leap up and stand in the dark, staring, with my heart beating hard. What was that? I'm not used to loud sounds. For a split second I can't make any sense of what's
"But we do know!" She says it too loudly. Even though it's
suppertime and all the workers have gone home, she should still be quiet. "We know that they want to get rid of us, and so what are they doing with us when they round us up?"
Everyone's silent. Even Anne notices it, but maybe she thinks it's that we disagree with her. Maybe she can't see that questions are something we ask ourselves alone, and at night. We ask them when all we can hear is the wind at the window and the church bells striking the hours. We don't ask them out loud. Only Anne does thatâand then she feels bad about it, and so suddenly it's everyone else's fault.
She leaps up and flounces down the stairs.
"Anne!" says her father.
"Be careful on those stairs!" hisses Mrs. Frank. Anne stops and turns to her.
"You don't care about me hurting myself," she hisses. "You're just worried about us being found!"
"Anne!" Mr. Frank loud-whispers.
"You've raised a very spoiled child," mutters Mutti.
Margot stares at her plate very hard; she breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth. I stand up and ask to be excused.
"Now, there's a polite boy," smiles Mutti.
"Good Lord, come down and give me a cigarette for my trials!" mutters Papi. I think Margot grins beneath her hair.
I'm blushing again. I hate it when Mutti praises me in front of the othersâespecially for something so stupid.
***
Bad news, Turkey hasn't joined the war; instead it's just having a think about not being neutral. It might not have to think so hard if it was Jewish.
MARCH 24, 1943â PETER DISCOVERS A BREAK-IN
Sometimes I can't stand the atmosphere in the Annex. Margot feels the same, I know. She deals with it by doing chores and reading. If it's the evening or the weekend I go and find Boche down in the storeroom, or even all the way down to the warehouse on the ground floor.
I can only go downstairs on weekends, or evenings, of course. At other times the office and warehouse workers are around. I like slipping silently in my socks all the way down the secret staircase. I like getting further and further away from the Annex. I have to come down at night, though, to bolt the door, and back again in the morning to unbolt it so Mr. Kugler can use his key.
It's dark in the storeroom, just like it is everywhere in the Annexâonly darker, in fact, because the windows are completely blacked out. And it smells. "It smells of the world, Peter!" Mr. Frank saysâand he's right. I can identify the smells now. Pepper especially. It makes the cats sneeze.
Anne and Margot hate it down here, they think it's creepy. That's good because it means I get it all to myself. It takes a while for your eyes to adjust in the dark, but then it's fine. And it's quiet. Just me and Boche, purring, I like it.
I'm playing with Boche, kneeling down in the nearly dark and holding a bean in one of the hands behind my back.
"Guess?" I whisper, and show Boche both hands. He leans forward, sniffs at my hands. His whiskers tickle. He sits back and stares and then delicately lifts a paw and taps my left hand. I turn it over. Open it. The bean is there. "Clever Boche!" I whisper and we nod at each other and begin again. I hide the bean behind my back, bring my hands around, but suddenly Boche doesn't want to playâhe turns his face away.
"Hey!" I whisper. "Mouse?" But he doesn't answer, just stalks toward the warehouse door and then back againâpushing his head hard against my knees.
"What?" I rub his head. His skull feels so small beneath his fur. I don't like that. He pushes and pushes against my hands. I kneel down and look into his eyes: "What is it?" But he twists his head away from me and stalks toward the door again ... the sound crashes through the air.
I jump. I leap up and stand in the dark, staring, with my heart beating hard. What was that? I'm not used to loud sounds. For a split second I can't make any sense of what's
Similar Books
