Chapter forty-one
In the end, it was Frau Hamel who woke them, throwing open the heavy wooden doors and calling down the stairs as she entered the storeroom.
She brought food, which was the only thing in the world that could have enticed Birdie to crawl off the cot. She was exhausted. They all were. Everything that happened a few hours before seemed like it happened days ago or in a dream.
Frau Hamel was not happy. She spoke to Louisa and Friedrich in German before switching to English so they all would understand.
“It smells like pigs live in this room,” she barked, her accent heavy. “You were to be awake and cleaning up the bedding and cots an hour ago. This is unacceptable.”
Birdie had grown used to the smell, but she couldn’t disagree about the general state of disarray.
Ryan stirred on his cot but didn’t open his eyes.
“I am sorry, Frau Hamel.” Friedrich leaned down to pick up a thin blanket that had fallen from a cot to form a puddle on the floor. “It was a…” He paused, searching for the right words. “A long night. We will clean up.”
Frau Hamel nodded briskly and turned an expectant gaze to Louisa.
Louisa shuffled across the storeroom to the long table, which was now piled high with pastries and yogurt containers.
“And you, Louisa?” Frau Hamel demanded.
“I am done.” She picked up a pastry and examined it. Her braids were frayed and dark circles swam under her eyes. “You can find someone else for the next camp session.” She plopped the pastry into her mouth and reached for another one.
Frau Hamel inhaled sharply and stormed up the steps. “Your parents will be here in thirty minutes. I expect this storeroom to be clean and each of you to be out at the curb waiting for them before they arrive.”
She left the doors open, allowing the sunshine and fresh breeze to filter through the storeroom.
No one said a word in her wake.
Birdie was just amazed it was morning. Morning had arrived, right on time, as if nothing had happened at all.
They groaned and grumbled their way through breakfast, the sugar from the pastries doing little to erase the fog of sleep. Raina didn’t bother to join them – she stayed curled up on her cot, her breath slow and steady as she continued to doze. At some point Friedrich gathered his things and slipped away, although Birdie didn’t realize he was gone until Ryan spoke.
She patted her front pocket to make sure the aventurine was still there.
“So this was something, huh?” Ryan said.
Sam chuckled. He rubbed his round face. “Yeah.”
“Are you guys going back to the States now?”
“No,” Sam said. “We’re just getting started. We have a few more stops in Germany and then we’re off to France. I’m not sure how anything will compare to this, though.”
“I’m going home to Ohio,” Kayla said. “And I can’t get there soon enough.”
“What about you?” Sam asked.
“Munich.” Ryan reached for another pastry. “By train.”
“How about you, Birdie?” Sophia asked.
She thought about it. “Prague. And don’t ask me anything about it because I know nothing.”
“Prague is a beautiful city,” Louisa said. “It’s… very old and historic.”
They all exchanged glances.
“Great,” Birdie said.
“You may want to lose that glass before you get there,” Kayla said.
“I know. I just need to figure out how.”
They cleaned up and gathered their things, not wanting to leave the mess in Louisa’s hands as Friedrich never returned. When they were done, they made their way to the curb, squinting against the bright sun.
Sam and Sophia’s parents were the first to arrive.
Sophia hugged Birdie before she left. “Stay in touch, okay? I put my number in your pack.”
Birdie nodded. “Definitely.”
Mrs. Blessing came next, pulling up in the rental car.
“Good morning!” she said, her eyes bright.
“I need a shower.” Birdie slid into the front seat and leaned against the headrest. She waved to the others still waiting on the curb and closed her eyes.
Her mom rolled down the windows. “Yes. Did you guys pull an all-nighter or something?”
Birdie didn’t hear the question. She’d already nodded off.
They’d made their way through the tricky underpass and onto Heerstrasse before Birdie started, realizing she’d fallen asleep. She opened her eyes.
“Why aren’t we parking in the lot?” She glanced over her shoulder. They’d already passed it.
“Herr Mueller said we could park in front of the hotel to load our bags.”
“Are you allowed to drive down this street?”
Her mom checked the clock on the dashboard. “For ten more minutes, anyway. After that, it becomes a pedestrian zone again.”
As her mom navigated down the narrow street, Birdie recalled how the village had looked the night before. They passed a row of empty tables, and she remembered seeing her mom with the strange man at the café.
She opened her mouth to ask her about it, then closed it. In her exhaustion, she’d almost given herself away. She sat back and watched the town crawl by.
“Mom, stop!” She sat up straight in her seat.
“What is it?” Mrs. Blessing hit the brakes hard.
There, in the center of the small town square, stood Friedrich.
He was admiring a statue, but it was not the statue of the baker boys that had stood there when Birdie and her mom arrived, its beehives affirming their heroic tale.
Instead, Friedrich gazed up at a stone form, almost true to life atop its pedestal, of a gangly guard holding a treasured chess piece high in the air.
“Do you know that boy?”
“He was one of our camp counselors.” She dug in her daypack for her camera.
“What’s he doing?” Her mom tilted her head to get a better look at him through the windshield.
Birdie leaned out of the window and snapped several photos.
Friedrich took no notice.
“Funny, I didn’t notice that statue before.”
Birdie smiled. “Neither did I.”
“Okay, well, did you get the photo you wanted?”
Birdie nodded.
“Good. Let’s go get you cleaned up and get our stuff. We can’t miss our flight to Prague.”