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Every once in a while, Vati took to grumbling about the Jews again — that they had betrayed Germany, that no true German should trust them, that they were sneaky and sly, that they ran shops and cheated their customers. But how could Hansi recognize a Jew, so he would know to be careful? No one had explained that.
So he asked Vati.
Vati smiled and said, “That’s good, Hansi, that you want to know. There might even be Jewish students at your school, and you need to know that.” He stopped and stroked his chin. Hansi had the feeling Vati would have liked to puff on his pipe, if he could still afford to smoke. “There are a few ways to spot a Jew. To start with, there’s how they look. They have big, hooked noses — a little like the number 6, except backwards.” Vati showed Hansi with his finger how long and hooked a Jew’s nose would be. “And they have dark, beady eyes — with their eyelids half closed, to make it harder for you to look them in the eye or read their expressions.”
Hansi nodded, hoping he could remember all these details.
“Their skin is darker, like the Italians. Usually they have black, curly hair, greasy, or else all curled up tight, almost like the Africans you’ve seen in pictures. But sometimes they have red hair. It might mean that someone in their family, generations ago, betrayed his race and married a Jew. Or it might be something they do to try to disguise what they are.
“I should have told you all this before, my son. Now you are armed with information, and can spot these enemies before they can weaken you or do you harm.”
At school the next day, Hansi studied his fellow students. None of them had red hair. Some had darker hair and some lighter. None of them had a big hooked nose, but Samuel’s nose stuck out more than some, and he had curly hair that was darker than Hansi’s. Hansi waited until school was dismissed for the day and went up to Samuel before Samuel could run home to some Jewish hideaway. He marched right up to him and asked, “Are you a Jew?”
Samuel stared at him as if puzzled. “Ja. So?”
Now what? Hansi couldn’t kick him out of the school. He settled on, “I just wanted to know, so I can . . . can keep an eye on you. In case you start any Jew trouble.”
Samuel grabbed Hansi’s arm and pulled him aside from the stream of students leaving the school. “That’s enough, you Ignorantin! I’ll fight you here and now!” He put up his fists.
Hansi looked at his own hands and back at Samuel’s. “You’d fight me? But Jews are cowards!”
Samuel spat at Hansi. Some of the spit touched Hansi’s hands, and he wiped them on his pants as hard as he could. Meanwhile, Samuel was shouting, “My father is a war hero! He won a medal! You should be such a coward!”
A medal? Not even Vati had won a medal — or had he, and just not wanted to brag about it? Meanwhile, the two of them were attracting attention. So far it was only other boys, but a teacher or even the headmaster could show up any minute. Samuel looked around as if he were thinking the same thing, Jew or no. He turned back to Hansi, shook one fist at him and said, “We can finish this around the corner, if you’re not a coward.” He pointed in the direction of the nearest intersection.
Hansi squared his shoulders and said, “Sure.” He tried to think as Samuel stalked off toward the corner. Vati would want him to fight, and be proud of him for doing it. Mutti, though, might cry or scold or both, even if she hated Jews as much as Vati did. Did she? Hansi didn’t even know.
He trudged to the corner, wondering if he had any way out of a fight he didn’t much want. It was a hot day, especially for October — that must be why he was sweating.
Samuel was waiting. He didn’t look scared, which would have helped . . . but he didn’t look as mad as he had before. As Hansi walked up, Samuel said, “I’m ready to fight if you are. But if you don’t want to, I won’t make you.”
Hansi didn’t want to. He should want to, but he didn’t. It wasn’t just that he’d probably get hurt, and that Mutti would fuss. Samuel seemed like a good enough fellow. And there must be something wrong with how he’d understood Vati . . . or even, little as he wanted to think it, with how Vati understood Jews, because Samuel didn’t look that much like what Vati had said he should, and he didn’t seem sneaky. And if he was a coward, what did that make Hansi?
Vati would want him to fight. But if he didn’t tell Vati about the Jew at school, Hansi wouldn’t have to disappoint him or get in trouble about it. Hansi shifted his weight and said, “I won’t make you, either.”
Samuel stuck out his hand and said, “Shake on it?”
It would be rude to say no. Touching a Jew couldn’t be that much worse than talking to one and deciding not to fight him. Hansi shook hands, and then turned and ran home through the heat.
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So that's the first of three possibilities!
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