MEANWHILE, JUST A FEW blocks away, Elizabeth and Katrina Melvich were sharing a glass of iced lemon water on the front stoop of the Melvichs’ apartment building. Katrina was going on about tomorrow’s Fourth of July celebration on the square and how her little brother had been practicing his tap-dancing routine for hours upon end the last eight nights—make that nine!—and had driven their mother and father to cotton-stuffed ears and Katrina to take refuge out of doors.
“You’re so lucky to have younger sisters,” Katrina told Elizabeth. “Who don’t tap.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you had to share a room with them,” said Elizabeth. “You should have seen Frankie with the new cash register at the restaurant. Honestly, her behavior was so embarrassing.”
And speaking of embarrassing, it was about that time Robbie McIntyre and his friend Albert Linden walked by. Robbie leaped on the top step of the stoop and hung on to the cast iron railing while screeching like a howler monkey. Katrina and Elizabeth screamed and then giggled. Katrina dipped her fingers into the drinking glass and flicked some lemon water at Robbie’s face. Elizabeth followed suit.
Robbie opened his mouth wide and bit at the spray, grunting.
You’d have to wonder why Elizabeth, a smart and sensible princess, would be entertained by such a thing. By such a boy. Albert Linden was wondering the same as he simply stood by with his hands in his pockets and watched.
“Thanks for the bath,” said Robbie. He hoisted himself up on the railing and straddled it. “Nice of you two to wait out here for us.” And then he grabbed the glass of lemon water right out of Elizabeth’s hands and drained it dry.
“Animal!” said Katrina, laughing. “Maybe they’ll have an opening for the likes of you at the square tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” said Elizabeth, “too bad you don’t tap-dance; you could join Katrina’s brother and put on a good show.”
“You both going to be there?” said Robbie.
Katrina looked up toward her apartment window, where her brother was all but certain to still be slamming his shoes into the floor. “Yeah.”
Elizabeth kept her head down.
“What about you?” asked Robbie.
She shook her head. “My daddy is throwing a party at the restaurant.”
“Oh yeah,” said Robbie, adjusting his flat cap. “So I heard.”
“You heard?” said Elizabeth.
“Everybody has,” said Robbie. “People have been talking a lot about your father lately. Isn’t that right, Al?”
Albert Linden nodded and then shrugged. “Seems so.”
Elizabeth felt something get caught in her throat. “What do you mean?” she managed to squeak out.
“You know, about him being a German,” said Robbie. He said it so matter-of-factly, as if he were talking about shoelaces. “Some people say he might even be working for—”
“My daddy is no German!” shouted Elizabeth. “I wish people would stop saying that horrible thing. I don’t know who started that ugly lie, but people shouldn’t be allowed to say such things. And what’s worse is that people believe them!” Whatever was in her throat was starting to come dislodged.
Katrina, Robbie, and Albert stared at her cautiously. Never before had they heard Elizabeth Baum raise her voice and turn such a shade of red.
“I didn’t mean any harm, Elizabeth,” said Robbie. “I’m just telling you about the talk going around. It’s got nothing to do with you, anyway.”
“I don’t care,” said Elizabeth. “I’m telling you it’s all a lie. Daddy is not a German. He’s got nothing to do with Germany, so if you want to spread something around, why don’t you spread that? The idea that Daddy is any different than anyone else in this town, any different than your fathers, is just plain wrong!”
“You’re saying he was born here?” said Albert, leaning against the railing. “In America?”
“Of course he was,” said Elizabeth, narrowing her eyes on him and trying to discern his meaning.
“But he lived there,” said Albert. “In Germany, for a couple of years. That’s what I heard.”
“He did not,” said Elizabeth, descending the steps and facing Albert square on. “That’s an outright lie. Who told you that?”
Robbie stepped between them. “We didn’t mean to upset you. Like I said, it’s got nothing to do with you.”
Elizabeth wondered how he could say such a thing. It had everything to do with everything, and nothing less.
Katrina scowled at both boys and then put her arm around Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s just talk. That’s all. Come on, let’s go inside.” She led Elizabeth to the door.
“Aw, come on,” said Robbie, “don’t be mad.”
Elizabeth stopped. “If people were saying these things about your father, what would you be?”
Robbie shook his head, confused. “But, Elizabeth, my father isn’t a German.”