Appel Is Forever: A Child’s Memoir

14. Now That We Are Home

14 Now THAT WE ARE HOME Now that we're home again, I can settle into life at school and in the city with full attention! I have two best friends. Each is completely different from the other. Chariotje lives in one of the beautiful old houses on the other side of the city block where we live. The front windows of her apartment overlook the end part of the Vondel Park, which is in the center of our neighborhood. The park is big and beautiful with flower beds and play areas. Charlotje has a mama, papa, and two big, big brothers . When Mama learns about them she sometimes gives some of our bread rations coupons to them. The big boys are hungry all the time and can eat up a loaf of bread easily. Their family really can use the extra coupons whereas we get enough from the America packages. What I love most about Charlotje is that she is full of mischievous ideas, and when we walk together to and from school we laugh and think up our next tricks. I learn from her how to have fun. We beg from pedestrians , "Could you give me a penny? I have only nine cents and need one more cent to take the streetcar home." When we have collected ten cents we go into a bakery on our way and get a sweet pastry. Charlotje can beg with a sincere, serious face. I mostly end up with an uncontrollable, nervous giggling. We ring doorbells of the apartments we pass, knowing the second and third floor housewives will come to the door and yell down, "Who is it?" We are long gone, giggling down the street. As we walk down the street, I poke her upper arm every time I want to tell her something or get excited about something. She says not to do that. But I hardly notice doing it so how can I stop? One afternoon, Charlotje pokes me as she talks. Boy! That really hurts. No wonder she 107 CHAPTER 14 wants me to stop. Now that I realize what I'm doing, I can stop. We continue , good friends enjoying our way home on Amsterdam's streets. At a certain time in spring, all the kids start playing marbles. She and I become marble fanatics. Our two-hour lunch time is supposed to get us home to eat and play at home with plenty of time to get back to school. Charlotje and I start playing marbles on our way home and sometimes take more than an hour to get there. Then follows a very quick swallowing of our open-faced bread slices before we make the return trip to school. It is approximately a half hour walk but on late days we run it in about fourteen minutes. One afternoon as we go careening up the stairs to our classroom on the second floor, Headmaster Eigenstein stands on the landing in front of us and says, "Easy, easy. You girls really must not be so late." This isn't the first time and after my shocked heart stops pounding I resolve to watch our time more carefully tomorrow, but tomorrow at noon we once more take up our marble play. My other best friend, Elsje, is an only child. She has come back to Amsterdam with her parents from Indonesia. During the war they were prisoners in a Japanese camp. She has very blond hair and light brown skin. She looks pretty to me. She also lives in a big apartment building overlooking a large open area. Her bedroom is in the attic, looking out the front. Behind the bedroom is open attic space where her mother hangs laundry to dry on the wooden poles that span across the attic. It's a great place to play! We lean out of her window and dump water down, hoping to hit a pedestrian. Elsje tells me that a young man lives in the next room over. This knowledge is a mystery and makes us both curious, and it becomes important to get a look at this person. I climb out of her window and carefully edge myself along the ledge that runs along the front. Far down below are the pedestrians. Peeking in I cannot see anyone inside the little attic room. Gingerly I slide back into Elsje's room. We give up our quest for contact and continue other amusements. In a moment of passionate...