So again…. Sorry I take ages to upload! A fractionally different point of view this time, but I won't write from Rudy's perspective very often, unless I get positive feedback about it :P I don't know what people think of him as a character, so please, please tell me if you'd rather he disappeared into the background again :P Thanks for the comments etc etc)

Chapter 7

"I don't suppose you could tell me, though, exactly what you're doing in Gretel's cellar?"

I'm pretty sure that's the most stupid thing I could have thought of to say. But I reckon I've got a pretty good excuse, to be honest.

The girl doesn't answer my question; merely stares at me in utter horror. Her face is a picture of pure terror. I barely register her features though, because my mind is framed on a single thought: There's a girl in Gretel's cellar. I still can't get over that. It's not the fact that she- apparently called Anna- is here. It's not even the fact of who she is. She's a Jew. Obviously.

But that doesn't bother me. Mutti has always been outspoken at home, so neither me nor any of my siblings are your average Nazi robots. In other families, I'm sure the kids would report their parents for any traitorous mutterings. But that's what I love about my family; we trust each other totally. Sometimes I think we're the only one in the whole of the Reich.

I've always dreamed of doing something to help those oppressed; a way to fight back against the men who killed Hanno and Onkel and...No, I mustn't think of such things. I mustn't. The point is, I hate the whole lot of them. Sometimes, I'm so frustrated that no one else can see through it…. That the rest of the country is blind…. I've always wanted the opportunity to rebel, but so far in life growing my hair above military length is about as far as I've got in terms of rebellion. I've always wanted the opportunity to do something more, to do something really worthwhile. But I never thought I'd stumble across the opportunity in Gretel Schmidt's cellar. That is what is bothering me.

The fact that this is Gretel Schmidt's cellar.

Gretel Schmidt. Sure, I try to be friendly to her, but I'm friendly to everyone. She's pretty I guess, though I don't really care for blondes. Ironic, really, considering I'm German. But she's so aloof, so lofty and proud. You can tell her father's a senior member of the SS just by looking at her. I only found out yesterday, and I thought it made her stand-offish behaviour make sense. The way she always seems so… perfectly German…

I honestly never expected… this.

"Rudy, It's not what you think!" Gretel says desperately. I can hear the fear in her voice and I feel awful. I can't stand the thought of someone being scared of me. I'm the class clown, the cheery, unserious one. The one I'm sure they're watching because sometimes I get scared that it's obvious that I'm not totally loyal to the Fuhrer.

People don't need to be scared of me. I need to be scared of other people.

So I try to put Gretel at ease and with a nervous smile I turn to face her. "I think it's really brave, what you're doing here,"

"You don't know what I'm doing here!" Another desperate cry. My words have done nothing to easy her fear. She still doesn't trust me.

So I continue. "You're hiding a Jew in your cellar. That's brave. I respect you,"

"You don't understand…" She stutters as if I haven't even spoken. "What they're doing…"

"Gretel," I say firmly. "I'm not going to report you. I honestly think you are really brave and I do understand. I hate the Nazis more than you can possibly imagine. I…I want to help,"

Then I turn around to face her- Anna- and smile. "Seriously… If there's anything I can do…"

She still says nothing; her eyes are focused on Gretel, whom she obviously thinks is in charge.

Gretel frowns at me. "What do you mean by that? Why do you hate them?"

I don't want to tell her. I want to spare the world my sob story. It's private, but more than that; it's too fresh, the wound's still festering, and I still can't believe that they're gone. She's looking at me expectantly. Well, too bad, I think, my life is my business.

I always maintain my cheerful, clownish exterior. That's the best way to hide any traitorous inner feelings. Normally I would grin and crack and joke and steer the conversation away from such a sensitive area.

But now my jokes have failed me.

I inspect the rotting wooden floorboards as I murmur a reply. "It's private,"

Gretel glares at me. "Liar. You don't hate them. You're one of them…! I can't let you go… you'll report me-us- you're a filthy Nazi, I know it!"

That's funny. Because she doesn't know. She doesn't know at all. She has no idea what I'm going to do or how I feel or what I am. How can she? I almost laugh. No one knows how I feel… except perhaps the Jewish girl standing behind me.

"You know nothing about me," I snap, my words harsher than usual. "If you did, you wouldn't make such an accusation. Besides, you're a fine one to talk. What's the daughter of an SS officer doing hiding a Jew? Shouldn't you be polishing the buttons on your Jungmadel uniform?"

Gretel turns very pink. "How do you know what my father does?" She snarls.

I shrug. I'm good at shrugging. "A friend told me," I say vaguely.

"You shouldn't believe rumours," Gretel mutters. Her cheeks redden.

"This isn't rumour though, is it?" I point out, bluntly. "You accuse me of being a filthy Nazi, yet whose father is a murderer?"

"You know nothing about what I've been through!" Gretel snarls.

"You know nothing about what I've been through!" I snarl back, as a red mist descends over me. I'm not usually the angry type, but the accusation that I'm a Nazi hurts, and Gretel should know better than to make assumptions.

"Please!" says Anna's desperate voice. "Be quiet before someone hears,"

I spin around to face her and murmur an apology as Gretel speaks from behind me. "Sit down, Rudy,"

I sit awkwardly on the floor, and Gretel follows suite. Anna perches on the floor of the wardrobe.

"Look," Gretel says softly. "We lived, my parents, my brother and I in a villa at Auschwitz camp… and I know what it was like… and I feel so… terrible. And then my brother, Bruno disappeared…"

I blink. "I'm sorry," I mutter. What to make of this? I'm sure she's being genuine, but I don't know how to respond…

But Anna smiles and says. "So maybe we should trust each other, I'm usually a good judge of character, and Gretel, he's like no Nazi I've ever met. He's far too nice!"

Gretel laughs. And I laugh, my natural disposition returning to me. I'm Rudy Biermann, the class clown, the cheery, unserious one. I'm thrilled to finally be able to disappear back behind my comic veil. I'm thrilled that conversation has taken a different course. Because the base way with dealing with things is to pretend they don't exist.

So I crack a bad joke and somehow a stilted conversation morphs into something that resembles a normal chat between normal friends. It's just talking. Talking about the most random, incredible things. Mainly Anna and I, but Gretel does make some contribution.

And we laugh and laugh and laugh, albeit quiet, for fear of attracting attention from upstairs. But it's genuine and wonderful and it takes our minds of our many, many problems.

I don't want to leave, but I realise it's getting late and Mutti will be petrified. Petrified that I've gone the same way as Hanno. Gretel accompanies me to the door way, and her mother also bids farewell, but not before she has popped the worst possible question, with arched eyebrows. "What is it, exactly, that you've been doing in the cellar?"

I see Gretel freeze with horror, but I'm here to save the day. That's my role. "A project for school," I saw sweetly. "We wanted the peace and quiet, and it's certainly an engaging environment!"

And then I'm running all the way home, knowing I'm in a lot of trouble for being so late home. The door opens before I have the chance to knock. Not a good sign. Mutti's been staring out the window, waiting for me.

"Rudy!" She splutters, ushering me inside. "I've been worried sick!"

"I'm sorry," I mutter guiltily. "I was at friend's house,"

"Then why didn't you tell me!"

I shrug. "It was spontaneous, I forgot. I'm sorry,"

"I worry about you, you know that," Mutti shakes her head. After what happened to Hanno, I can't blame her. Hanno is…was…. My brother. The best brother I could've wished for. Two years older than me and my best friend. Gone, along with Onkel Heinz and Tante Magda…. It's so weird, to think that I will never see any of them again. And it's Hitler's fault. Dear God, I genuinely wish I could kill the man myself. I'm sure I'm the only person in the Reich who wants the British or the Americans (though not the Russians) to arrive. And they will arrive. But I can't help but think this won't bring back the family members I have lost.

But I push such thoughts out my head. It hurts too much. Besides I have other thinks to concern myself with.

More important things.

Which is why, after the next day, I smuggle food in my satchel, follow Gretel home after school and spend another two hours with the only girl whose ever been able to make me laugh. And Gretel of course.

She appreciates the food, I know, but I hope she appreciates the company as well. Two friends for company in the evenings

The best thing is, we have a cover story for spending time in the cellar. The school project was a genius idea, if I don't say so myself. The three of us even worked out the details of what it is about, just in case anyone inquires further.

It's an hour later that Anna summons the courage to ask the question I never want to answer. I know she's going to ask it because she speaks tentatively. "Rudy? Can-Can I ask you a question?"

If anyone else in the world asked that question I'd ignore it, or skirt around the subject. But Anna is a Jew. She's suffered more than anyone under the Nazis, so for the first time in my life I feel inclined to tell.

So when she does say the words, I know I will finally have to answer. Then somebody will know.

"What happened to make you hate the Nazis so much?"