CHAPTER SEVEN
Blut und Wasser

Frogg's time in West Berlin stretched into weeks, and then two months passed. The new year came, and his birthday quickly followed it. He turned ten years old on a sunny yet snow-fallen day in February of 1989. Hans and Gisela Reinhart had made it a special occasion, and he was both thrilled and embarrassed all at once - previously his professor would just give him a small (but very much appreciated) present before their lessons began, but now they had made him a torte with candles to blow out and everything. Their present to him was a Sega Mega Drive, and although Frogg was excited to play video games for the first time, the Reinhart's had a good laugh when he was just as interested to see how it worked as well - he could not help that he had the mind of an early engineer.

Later that night, Frogg restlessly laid in bed. He was tired from his celebration but was still trying to get used to his new home and was thinking of how his last birthday had been forgotten in his papa's drunkenness. He wondered what his father was doing at this very moment on the other side of the wall, whether or not he missed his son. Something about this made Frogg feel funny, something upsetting, so for some comfort he crept downstairs to grab a leftover piece of his cake and tried to be quiet. He did not want to bother the Professor and Gisela. That was when he heard their softly spoken conversation, and at first he did not mean to eavesdrop, but then he heard a snippet that mentioned him.

"-problems with the East working with me. Archibald's information is near impossible to get."

Curious, he tip-toed to where he could listen to them talk in the next room over.

"Well, what is there so far?"

It was Gisela asking the question, and then he heard the Professor reply -"His mother passed away in his childbirth and Viktor raised him on his own, so there's no contact from any members on her side. No uncles or aunts from either parents, and the only surviving grandparent on the father's side is in a nursing home with severe dementia. Probably wouldn't even recognize him."
"...that's a shame."
"Yes. He really is all alone."
"So his only option is foster care?"
"It's beginning to look that way. At least the East isn't fighting tooth and nail to have him returned like I expected… I think the Welfare Office has them intimidated. And good. The last place he needs to be is with his father."

At that moment, Frogg forgot the piece of cake he was looking forward to and quietly padded back up the stairs. There was a knot of anxiety in his stomach, and he did not sleep a wink that night.

Frogg was, however, beginning to appreciate some normalcy coming back into his life. Previously in East Germany, it was the Soviet Union that had spotted his abnormal smarts and instigated his special classes in an effort to cultivate a scientific and mathematical genius for themselves. Now, he was not some potential tool to a communist party - but was nevertheless still what the adults around him called a 'child prodigy'. He was to continue his lessons just like he did before, but it was all for himself now. When the Professor told Frogg the news that lessons would begin again, Frogg had asked where they were going to be working, and was met with, "Humboldt."

That confused him. Were they going back to where he had escaped after all?

"It's called the Free University. When the country was split, a second location of the University was put up in West Berlin. So, it's kind of like a version 2.0 of the Humboldt you're familiar with. You'll like it. They recreated the same old architecture and everything."

The first day he visited the Free University, Frogg finally felt something close to relaxation - he was back in his element in a lab, amidst the array of glassware, the Bunsen burners and the centrifuges where he belonged. He had missed learning and experimenting, and the professor was back to his usual professional self in the classroom. Even if Hans Reinhart was caring, friendly, and accommodating as ever at home, Frogg was still getting used to seeing the man have a private life of his own and whether he realized it or not, also become a sort of father figure to him. He liked having his teacher back, too.

And even better, he now had access to a university library again. The first time he visited it, the librarian looked quite perplexed at having a ten year old approach the check-out counter, struggling under the weight of five thick books about the English language.

Frogg finally had a friend and was adamant on learning Lisbeth's tongue.

He was picking up English quickly. He had always been a fast learner, but his enthusiasm only made the process easier. It helped that at home, like many Western Europeans, the Reinhart's could speak it as well and they helped him conversationally, and he made an effort to listen to songs and movies that spoke the language too. He was determined, and with his nature of becoming hyper-fixated on ideas and tasks, it took no time at all.

The first time Lisbeth Vogel came to spend time with him, they barely said a word to each other. At least ones that they could understand. Just like the day before, when she had appeared at his front door to return his scarf and gloves, she had arrived without any prior notice. Turns out, she lived not too far away, and her parents would allow her to walk over unaccompanied. She had grabbed him by the hand and pulled him from the house, and the two trotted the snowy streets together until they found a park close by. Lisbeth led them to a bench, pulled stale bread from a coat pocket and began feeding the birds, sometimes saying things in English that he could not understand - "Back home there are Canadian geese that will chase and try to bite you", or "The kids at the superhero school are jerks, don't be upset because of them."

And though he had no idea what she was saying in the beginning of their friendship, Frogg would watch her and smile. He thought her voice was nice, and he liked having a reason to look at her. When she ran out of bread to feed the birds, she got up, promptly made a snowball and threw it at him, but she was smiling, and her eyes were playful. Frogg grinned back and joined the fight but didn't hit her a single time. He might not have been trying very hard to, however.

Weeks passed, and they spent more and more time together. Frogg liked it when they would sometimes sit across from each other and he would say a word in English, and Lisbeth would repeat it back to him in the correct pronunciation, drawing it out so he could hear it better. He knew that she was not making fun of him when sometimes she would laugh because of the way his thick German accent distorted the words, turning its meaning into something entirely else, or how the letter W was an especially hard one for him. For the first time in years, Frogg was laughing, too.

Soon, they had a routine - Frogg would return to the Reinhart home after his weekday lessons at the Free University of Humboldt, throw his things down and eat something as fast as he could. Gisela would always encourage him to slow down, but he did not want to waste any time, because soon after Lisbeth would be knocking on their door, and she would steal him for hours. Frogg had promised the Reinhart's that they would always stay in their little borough of the American-occupied sector and never stray from each other, and the two always kept their promise.

They would go to their spot at the park where they fed the birds or took turns pushing each other on swings, or sometimes to a remote bridge where they could let their feet dangle over the edge as trains passed beneath them. Sometimes they would just sit quietly on his porch, both of them reading in content silence or listening to the kind of music that made Lisbeth jokingly call him 'goth' - he found himself enjoying the likes of The Cure and Joy Division the most out of all the new bands he could listen to. Occasionally, Frogg would help her with her math homework, but when she finally understood just how smart he really was, it only made her more determined to do it herself. It made Frogg respect her even more, if that was possible.

He was reminded constantly of both the subtle and glaring differences between the two sides of the Berlin Wall by the things she might bring over for him to borrow - books, movies, music. He had really missed out on a lot of things with how profoundly anti-capitalist the Eastern Bloc was. There was one day he had her almost dying of laughter, because she brought snacks with her and Frogg had no idea what he was looking at.

"It's a Pop-Tart?" Lisbeth explained as if it were painfully obvious, but she looked entertained by his reaction.
When Frogg bit into the brightly colored pastry, he got his first taste of all-American junk food and a rush of dopamine. "This is… so gut!"
And he must have looked like he was having some sort of epiphany, because it put Lisbeth into fits of laughter, and soon he was almost in tears too. It became a routine where she would always have Pop-Tarts ready for them in her bookbag, and it became a bit of an inside joke. It made Frogg indescribably happy… he never had a friend to make their own jokes with before.

Frogg found out that Lisbeth Vogel was in Germany because her father was stationed in the American-occupied Sector of the city. He had caught a glimpse of the man one day when he and Lisbeth were returning from one of their adventures- she was running up to her porch and he came out to greet her, dressed in his fatigues. Even if he was an American soldier, Frogg still had a fear of men in uniform and left quickly. Frogg never saw her mother, because the two children were always out and about in their playtime and he never went inside of her house, but he soon learned that this was who Lisbeth got her powers from - the American Hero named Clairevoyance.

Ever since he saw Lisbeth that day at the Superhero Kiddie College, he had been insanely curious to know what kind of superpower Lisbeth might have. But he found out quickly, long before he was able to actually articulate the question, that she did not even seem to use them. Had he not seen her actually attending the school, he would have thought she was like any other average kid. Then came the day, weeks after they first began spending time together, that Frogg finally felt the confidence in both his language skills and diminished shyness to ask.

"Lisbeth, why don't you use your powers?"

Today, they were sitting on the abandoned bridge where the trains occasionally rushed beneath them. The sun was beginning to beautifully set, and despite the lovely view Frogg could not help but be disappointed by it… he always promised the Reinhart's he would be home before dark and it meant their day was soon coming to an end. When he and Lisbeth first began to spend time together, they would sit an arms-length apart, but now there were only inches between the two as they grew more comfortable.

Lisbeth frowned. "Because it's different. You'll laugh at me."

Previously, it was common for Frogg to ask her to slow down when she spoke as he got used to her language, but the request came less and less. Frogg could not tell if he was offended that she thought that way, because he would certainly never laugh at her.

"I will not, I promise!"

And she did a sort of sigh. Where they were sitting, there was a bit of litter a few meters away - a crumpled up soda can. Lisbeth pointed at it to draw his attention. To Frogg's astonishment, it suddenly lifted itself from the ground. It hovered for a moment, and then went hurtling over the bridge to the ground below.

Frogg turned his head to her in amazement. "You- did you-"
"It's called telekinesis," she explained. "I can move things with my mind. I know, it's not as cool as being super strong, or being able to fly, or-"

Frogg did not really know what something being 'cool' meant, but grinned. "Das war- I mean- That was amazing!"

She blushed, and then Frogg reached over to where a rock sat, asking her if she could move that. From where it sat in his open palm, the rock floated up, then was tossed over with much more force, and he watched as it hit the ground far away and bounced off.

For some reason, the two of them began laughing- maybe Lisbeth was relieved he wasn't making fun of her, and he just had no other words. It became a sort of game- Frogg would find something for her, asking her excitedly if she could make it hover, or spin it, or to do little tricks. Of course, with his mind already built like a scientist's, he was already thinking of the possibilities with her sort of abilities, or wondering at a cognitive level exactly how she was able to do such a thing...

Then, from seemingly nowhere, Lisbeth asked him what he was least expecting.

"What happened to your neck when you first came here?"

By now, the skin around his throat had returned to its normal pale complexion. But she had caught a glimpse of it when it was still healing, a month ago when he lent her his scarf. By now, the only evidence left of that night was a scar on his ankle in the shape of a dog bite, one he'd have for the rest of his life.

Unprepared, Frogg swallowed nervously. He had always made such an effort to hide the way his father had abused him, covering his injuries as best as he could. It would have been so easy, too, to come up with some bogus explanation at that moment. But he found that he couldn't lie to Lisbeth.

"...my papa hurt me."

And he averted his eyes in shame. He thought constantly of that night, and the words that his papa told him as he pressed all of his weight onto Frogg's little throat. Of what happened to his sweet pet cat Kaspar, who he missed terribly. But he had yet to say anything of it aloud except to those people from weeks ago in the hospital with their clipboards and invasive questions. It often kept him up at night, and he did not have any idea how Lisbeth may react…

"Your own dad?"

He nodded solemnly, still unable to meet her gaze. "He would get drunk and hit me."

"...I'm sorry, Archie."

It was a nickname that she had given him early on, one that would have irritated him if anyone else had said it. But with her, it was perfectly alright. The words that came from her were short, but they were sweet and made him feel a little bit warmer in the winter cold. He did not have to say 'thank you' for her to know that he appreciated it. It was his turn to ask, now.

"Why were you crying?"
"Huh?"
"When I saw you at the school, when you were alone and hiding," Frogg softly said, playing with his fingers in that shy way of his, "Why were you crying?"

It took a moment for her to answer as well. "My Mom and Dad fight a lot. Dad sleeps on the couch now. They were being loud and arguing when they dropped me off at school that day, and Oskar made fun of me for it."

At that time, Frogg was too young to understand how marriages can fall apart, but he still frowned. He knew more than anyone else how exhausting it was to be around a person who raised their voice often. And there was something in the way her eyes unfocused to something in the distance that was familiar - knowing that sometimes home wasn't the happy, safe place it was supposed to be.

"I'm sorry, too."

And he could tell that she was thankful, too, and they didn't speak again for a long time. But the sun was dipping farther down, and it was time to go, so Frogg helped her up and the two children made their trek back home in their easy, content silence.

The conversation began when Frogg was helping carry the plates from dinner to the kitchen sink.

Both Hans and Gisele Reinhart had commented early in his stay how he had such good manners for a boy his age and cleaned up after himself well. The truth was, he learned quickly that some things just wouldn't get done if he left it to his drunken or passed out father, such as having a clean plate for the next time he was hungry, so it was a habit rather forced on him by his last environment whether he wanted it or not. Still, he thought it was the least he could do, being taken care of the way he was. He was reaching for the little stool that helped him reach the sink for washing when he was called back into the dining room. Upon entering, he could tell something was going on.

"We wanted to talk to you," his professor said and gestured for him to take a seat.

The atmosphere put Frogg on edge, the sense that they had something important to say. From past experiences this meant that he might hear something that could be very bad. 'We need to talk' was often followed by yelling or beatings when it came from his father. He took his seat and anxiously looked between the two adults.

"As I'm sure you know, I've been in contact with the Youth Welfare Office regarding your case," Hans began, "And I know it's been taking some time, so I'm sorry for how ambiguous things have been. It's been difficult for them to work with a government that does not want to help."

Frogg was not sure where he was going with this.

"But some decisions have been made. East Berlin is not demanding you back. Archibald, your father has lost custody of you."

"...what? What does that mean?"

"It means you can't go back to live with him, he's unfit to be your parent."

Frogg did not understand. His papa was his parent, so how could someone else decide for him that it was not okay to live there? He had never imagined that he would be concerned about actually getting back into the East side of the city, and yet here he was, afraid that he was now stuck where everyone wanted to be. Of course he was more than relieved to not live in fear of the Wall and The Stasi, but that did not mean at all that he wanted to leave his papa behind in that place either. His father had been scared, too.

"So.. so I'll never see my papa again?"

The adults across from him looked as if they felt terribly bad for him, and tears were beginning to form in his eyes.

"Even if you were allowed back into the East and were not punished for crossing the wall, he hurt you very badly. It's not safe for you."

Despite everything that happened, even if he was sometimes afraid of him, Frogg still loved his father and wanted to be loved by him, too. He had never considered this as a possibility. His thoughts were beginning to race, and he was stuttering as he struggled to accept the news.

Gisela reached forward and put a comforting hand on top of his own. "I know you're scared, and I know you still care about your father. But you need to know that what he did was incredibly wrong, and you may not realize it now, but this is for the best. The night that you came over, you were scared enough that you risked death in the Berlin Wall rather than go to him. That instinct of yours was right, Archibald. You need to be here. With us."

Frogg heard the words and felt the sense of comfort in her touch that had become so rare in his life, and a large part of him knew she was right, but still, he did not want to accept it. He couldn't say anything and sniffled pathetically, using a sleeve to wipe a fat tear that rolled down his cheek. What was going to happen to him?

"But that leads to our next question," Professor Reinhart softly said, "Without a parent here, someone needs to take care of you. Normally in this situation a child would be placed into foster care."

He had heard of foster care before, and though he might not have fully understood how it worked, Frogg definitely had a certain image in his head of what it was like. And that scared him.

"But we want you here with us."

Frogg uncertainly looked at them through his wet eyes.

"Will you let us take care of you? We want to be your Guardians."

Hans and Gisela Reinhart were waiting for his answer, and they looked hopeful. Frogg did not understand. He had been physically abused and rejected by his own father, yet here were people who were not even of blood, and they were showing him a kindness that he was not sure he even deserved.

The tears he had been trying hard to fight against won as he nodded his head. He was crying because he knew he was going to miss his papa fiercely despite everything that had happened to him and the future was so scary, but he was also crying because the two adults across from him stood and both put their arms around him, and it was the safest and most cared for he had felt in a very, very long time.