The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas by John Boyne Page A

allowed to say what I feel?’ he repeated, incredulous.
    ‘No,’ she insisted, her voice becoming grating now as she appealed to him. ‘Just keep quiet about it, Bruno. Don’t you know how much trouble you could cause? For all of us?’
    Bruno stared at her. There was something in her eyes, a sort of frenzied worry, that he had never seen there before and that unsettled him. ‘Well,’ he muttered, standing up now and heading over towards the door, suddenly anxious to be away from her, ‘I was only saying I didn’t like it here, that’s all. I was just making conversation while you put the clothes away. It’s not like I’m planning on running away or anything. Although if I did I don’t think anyone could criticize me for it.’
    ‘And worry your mother and father half to death?’ asked Maria. ‘Bruno, if you have any sense at all, you will stay quiet and concentrate on your school work and do whatever your father tells you. We must all just keep ourselves safe until this is all over. That’s what I intend to do anyway. What more can we do than that after all? It’s not up to us to change things.’
    Suddenly, and for no reason that he could think of, Bruno felt an overwhelming urge to cry. It surprised even him and he blinked a few times very quickly so that Maria wouldn’t see how he felt. Although when he caught her eye again he thought that perhaps there must be something strange in the air that day because her eyes looked as if they were filling with tears too. All in all, he began to feel very awkward, so he turned his back on her and made his way to the door.
    ‘Where are you going?’ asked Maria.
    ‘Outside,’ said Bruno angrily. ‘If it’s any of your business.’
    He had walked slowly but once he left the room he went more quickly towards the stairs and then ran down them at a great pace, suddenly feeling that if he didn’t get out of the house soon he was going to faint away. And within a few seconds he was outside and he started to run up and down the driveway, eager to do something active, anything that would tire him out. In the distance he could see the gate that led to the road that led to the train station that led home, but the idea of going there, the idea of running away and being left on his own without anyone at all, was even more unpleasant to him than the idea of staying.

Chapter Seven

How Mother Took Credit for Something That She Hadn’t Done
    Several weeks after Bruno arrived at Out-With with his family and with no prospect of a visit on the horizon from either Karl or Daniel or Martin, he decided that he’d better start to find some way to entertain himself or he would slowly go mad.
    Bruno had only known one person whom he considered to be mad and that was Herr Roller, a man of about the same age as Father, who lived round the corner from him back at the old house in Berlin. He was often seen walking up and down the street at all hours of the day or night, having terrible arguments with himself. Sometimes, in the middle of these arguments, the dispute would get out of hand and he would try to punch the shadow he was throwing up against the wall. From time to time he fought so hard that he banged his fists against the brickwork and they bled and then he would fall onto his knees and start crying loudly and slapping his hands against his head. On a few occasions Bruno had heard him using those words that he wasn’t allowed to use, and when he did this Bruno had to stop himself from giggling.
    ‘You shouldn’t laugh at poor Herr Roller,’ Mother had told him one afternoon when he had related the story of his latest escapade. ‘You have no idea what he’s been through in his life.’
    ‘He’s crazy,’ Bruno said, twirling a finger in circles around the side of his head and whistling to indicate just how crazy he thought he was. ‘He went up to a cat on the street the other day and invited her over for afternoon tea.’
    ‘What did the cat say?’ asked Gretel,