Hazel and Ingrid were incredulous at my actions.
"I thought you were going to let that big boy kiss you," Hazel said, her eyes wide. "You seemed awfully chummy with him."
"Yeah, and that other boy seemed awfully taken with you. I thought he was going to drag you behind the tree and force a kiss on you," Ingrid added, her eyes even wider than Hazel's.
"And the way he scared the redhead off—he was terrifying! And I thought the redhead was scary enough" Hazel looked around furtively at that, as if either boy could materialize behind her.
"But I never thought you would have the guts to push away both of them at once. Heck, I never thought you'd have the guts to push any boy in the chest." Hazel added.
I was laughing hysterically at this point. They must've thought I'd lost my marbles. I could hardly breathe.
"It's not funny. We were worried about you," Ingrid said with a touch of irritation.
"Serves you both right for setting me up like that. I had to turn tables on you," I gasped between giggles. It took awhile with all my laughing, but I told them the whole story. Mama would never forgive me for outright lying or letting my friends believe something dishonest. I explained that Red had set them up and that I actually knew Spot. At first they were indignant, but after a few moments they saw the humor in the entire situation and began laughing with me.
After we had calmed down a bit, Hazel turned to me with wide eyes and asked, "So you really know that other newsboy? The blond one? You are really friends?"
"Yeah," I responded. "He's been selling Papa a newspaper for years now, and we talk sometimes. Papa really likes him. They like to talk politics. Sometimes I do, too."
"Well, he's cute. We should set you up with him," Ingrid responded.
"No way!" Hazel jumped in, swatting Ingrid's arm. "Newsboys are not good boyfriends. They fight and yell and swear and steal. I've even heard they," and here her voice dropped to a whisper, "visit houses with those women."
I gasped. I could not imagine Spot—my friend Spot, who tipped his hat and smiled when he said thank you—fighting or cursing—and certainly not that. Then I remembered his voice before he knew that Red was just messing around, and I remembered how nervous Red had been when backing away. I shuddered and quickly turned the subject back to Hazel's Joseph in an effort to clear that idea from my head. If my friends noticed, they did not say anything.
That evening my mind drifted back to what Hazel had said. I so wanted to talk to Papa! I had so many questions.
As if he had been summoned, Papa walked through the door. I handed him his supper and motioned toward Mama, who had been asleep when I arrived home. I fussed in the kitchen as I struggled to find the words for the questions I wanted to ask. While I was still looking for the words, Papa interrupted my thoughts.
"What's the matter, Katja?" he asked in our native German.
"When I was with Hazel today she said something that has me thinking," I answered in the same language. Somehow it seemed easier this way; our family always talked about the most serious things in our native tongue. "She said that newsboys like Spot were always fighting and cursing and – and doing other things," I finished lamely. Papa nodded once, taking a moment to absorb the unvoiced question.
"Kati, look outside. The streets here are hard. Many of the children here do not have the same family that we have. We are very lucky. We have work and a comfortable home. We have each other. Boys like our Spot many times do not have the family like we do. They do not have a proper home. Some are lucky to have enough to eat. They must become hard men when they should just be boys. Yes?" He looked at my nod and nodded himself before continuing. "We must never judge someone for doing things differently. We must always see that people do their best. Our Spot, he has a good heart. He is smart and capable. I think he will become a businessman someday, and he is always truly kind to everyone I see. He does his best with what God has given him. We must never judge him or anyone else. Just remember, Kati, to see his heart with yours as you always have, and nothing will change in your friendship."
I smiled then. Papa made it so clear. It was so simple. Spot was still Spot. "Thank you, Papa," I said, throwing my arms around his neck.
"Now then," he smiled, switching back to English. "Let us enjoy this fine evening while you tell me of your visit with your friends, ja?" I nodded, smiling to myself as I began to relate some of what had transpired that day.