Norwegian over to the Germans!"
Olaf's parents? Quisling was a traitor, but Marit couldn't believe that any islander, let alone Olaf's own parents, would join the Nazis and turn in other Norwegians. She shuddered. "I can't understand how they ... but that doesn't make Olaf ... he wouldn't do that."
"Maybe. Maybe not. It doesn't matter. If anyone in the family is NS, a 'quisling,' then the whole family gets iced out." She nodded toward the tombstones, where Olaf was wandering alone. "It just happened. Yesterday. My parents told me about it last night. By now, most everyone on the island knows."
A wave of cold swept through Marit's body. What if someone turned Mama or Papa over to the Nazis? How could anyone do such a thing?
Why
would anyone do such a thing? Her heart went out to Olaf, but how could she ever understand his parents? "It's like he's
dead then?" she asked. "Treated the way we treat the Germans?"
"Sort of like that."
"Like a dog?"
Hanna huffed. "My papa says we try to treat our dogs
much
better."
It seemed cruel, but if "icing out" was a means of uniting against the Nazis, then Marit had no choice but to take part.
After school that day, outside the church gates, steps sounded behind her and someone tapped her shoulder. She spun around, expecting to see Hanna. It was Olaf. His gray eyes were pleading, and for a moment Marit thought he might start crying.
"Listen, Marit," Olaf said, smoothing his hair back with his hand. "I know what Hanna probably told you, but listenâI'm
not
a Nazi. I'm
not
my parents."
Marit felt sorry for him, but in this warâa war in which
her
parents were risking their lives and
his
parents were turning in Norwegiansâthere was no middle ground. She grabbed her brother's hand and turned away. "Lars, let's go."
She hurried ahead, and Lars kept glancing back. "Why aren't you talking with Olaf?"
"I'll explain later."
That night, instead of cod stew, which seemed to get thinner each night it was served, Aunt Ingeborg served a
feast: fish cakes in brown gravy, boiled potatoes, and small pancakes with jam for dessert. Bestefar spoke about his day's catch of herring, and Aunt Ingeborg talked about how the quality of flour was getting worse.
All Marit could think about was Olaf and the haunting words of the soldier on the shore months earlier.
War has many unexpected casualties.
Chapter Ten
If You Breathe
In late September, Marit learned from the radio broadcast that the German leader, Terboven, had stepped in and declared the Norwegian Nazi Party to be the official "New Order" in Norway. There would be no more voting.
One evening, Bestefar brought home a newspaper that was being illegally copied and sent all around the country. Before sharing it, he double-checked to make sure the black paper was tight against all windows.
"If any of us should be asked to trample ideals we cherish," he began reading, looking intently from Marit to Lars to Aunt Ingeborg, "to adopt a new way of life we scorn, there is only one course to take. If this is the New Order, our answer is: No Norwegians for sale. Several
hundred Norwegians have sacrificed their lives for something they held sacred. It is also sacred to us."
When he finished, Aunt Ingeborg clapped her hands. "
Ja,
that's right. No Norwegians for sale! Let the Germans hear that loud and clear."
"Unfortunately, the author of these words has been arrested," Bestefar said. "With every day it's becoming clearer. The lines are being drawn. You're either a Nazi or a
jøssing.
"
"A
jøssing?
" Marit asked.
"A loyal Norwegian," he answered quietly.
After that, it seemed almost everyone was a
jøssing.
Even at school, where the red, blue, and white Norwegian flag was replaced with the German swastika flag, little signs of unity sprang up. Along with fishermen, everyone started to wear
nisselues,
red stocking caps like those worn by gnomes. And if not
nisselues,
then they wore red caps, scarves, or sweaters as a sign of
Olaf's parents? Quisling was a traitor, but Marit couldn't believe that any islander, let alone Olaf's own parents, would join the Nazis and turn in other Norwegians. She shuddered. "I can't understand how they ... but that doesn't make Olaf ... he wouldn't do that."
"Maybe. Maybe not. It doesn't matter. If anyone in the family is NS, a 'quisling,' then the whole family gets iced out." She nodded toward the tombstones, where Olaf was wandering alone. "It just happened. Yesterday. My parents told me about it last night. By now, most everyone on the island knows."
A wave of cold swept through Marit's body. What if someone turned Mama or Papa over to the Nazis? How could anyone do such a thing?
Why
would anyone do such a thing? Her heart went out to Olaf, but how could she ever understand his parents? "It's like he's
dead then?" she asked. "Treated the way we treat the Germans?"
"Sort of like that."
"Like a dog?"
Hanna huffed. "My papa says we try to treat our dogs
much
better."
It seemed cruel, but if "icing out" was a means of uniting against the Nazis, then Marit had no choice but to take part.
After school that day, outside the church gates, steps sounded behind her and someone tapped her shoulder. She spun around, expecting to see Hanna. It was Olaf. His gray eyes were pleading, and for a moment Marit thought he might start crying.
"Listen, Marit," Olaf said, smoothing his hair back with his hand. "I know what Hanna probably told you, but listenâI'm
not
a Nazi. I'm
not
my parents."
Marit felt sorry for him, but in this warâa war in which
her
parents were risking their lives and
his
parents were turning in Norwegiansâthere was no middle ground. She grabbed her brother's hand and turned away. "Lars, let's go."
She hurried ahead, and Lars kept glancing back. "Why aren't you talking with Olaf?"
"I'll explain later."
That night, instead of cod stew, which seemed to get thinner each night it was served, Aunt Ingeborg served a
feast: fish cakes in brown gravy, boiled potatoes, and small pancakes with jam for dessert. Bestefar spoke about his day's catch of herring, and Aunt Ingeborg talked about how the quality of flour was getting worse.
All Marit could think about was Olaf and the haunting words of the soldier on the shore months earlier.
War has many unexpected casualties.
Chapter Ten
If You Breathe
In late September, Marit learned from the radio broadcast that the German leader, Terboven, had stepped in and declared the Norwegian Nazi Party to be the official "New Order" in Norway. There would be no more voting.
One evening, Bestefar brought home a newspaper that was being illegally copied and sent all around the country. Before sharing it, he double-checked to make sure the black paper was tight against all windows.
"If any of us should be asked to trample ideals we cherish," he began reading, looking intently from Marit to Lars to Aunt Ingeborg, "to adopt a new way of life we scorn, there is only one course to take. If this is the New Order, our answer is: No Norwegians for sale. Several
hundred Norwegians have sacrificed their lives for something they held sacred. It is also sacred to us."
When he finished, Aunt Ingeborg clapped her hands. "
Ja,
that's right. No Norwegians for sale! Let the Germans hear that loud and clear."
"Unfortunately, the author of these words has been arrested," Bestefar said. "With every day it's becoming clearer. The lines are being drawn. You're either a Nazi or a
jøssing.
"
"A
jøssing?
" Marit asked.
"A loyal Norwegian," he answered quietly.
After that, it seemed almost everyone was a
jøssing.
Even at school, where the red, blue, and white Norwegian flag was replaced with the German swastika flag, little signs of unity sprang up. Along with fishermen, everyone started to wear
nisselues,
red stocking caps like those worn by gnomes. And if not
nisselues,
then they wore red caps, scarves, or sweaters as a sign of
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