Touch the Sky (Young Underground #8) (5 page)

             
“
Sure,
”
replied Peter as he sprinted toward the city.

             
Back in Henrik
’
s apartment, the adults and Elise were sitting around the kitchen table eating little slices of pound cake. Peter walked down the hallway to Henrik
’
s room but stopped in the doorway when he saw Mrs. Melchior hovering over Henrik, who was trying to get up out of his bed.

             
“
I
’
m fine now, Mother,
”
Henrik protested.
“
You don
’
t want me to take that stuff if I
’
m feeling fine, do you?
”

             
“
Now you
’
re feeling fine all of a sudden?
”
she asked.

             
“
But what about what he said, Mother?
”

             
“
You
’
re just trying to change the subject, Henrik Melchior. Your father used to do that....
”

             
Her voice trailed off, and she sat down on the bed next to Henrik. The battle over the stomach medicine was suddenly over.

             
“
You
’
re not really going to marry Matthias, are you, Mother?
”
Henrik
’
s voice was barely a whisper.

             
Peter stood up straight when he realized Henrik didn
’
t know he was standing there.

             
Henrik
’
s mother paused.
“
I
’
m sorry he brought it up before I could speak to you about it, Henrik. We haven
’
t made any definite decisions yet.
”

             
When she stood up to leave the room, Henrik finally noticed Peter standing out in the hall. Mrs. Melchior patted him on the shoulder as she walked by.

             
“
Mrs. Melchior,
”
said Peter quietly,
“
Matthias said to tell you he would be right back.
”

             
“
Thank you, Peter.
”
Mrs. Melchior nodded and smiled as she disappeared down the hall.

             
Henrik sat up straight and turned to his friend.
“
Well? Did you find your gun?
”
he whispered.

             
“
Not so loud.
”
Peter checked down the hall, then slipped in closer to the bed.
“
Elise and I were looking, and he sneaked up on us.
”

             
“
What do you mean,
‘
sneaked up
’
?
”

             
“
Well, we were looking in the plane, and all of a sudden he was standing right there. He might have heard what we were talking about.
”

             
“
So he sneaked up, just like Elise here.
”

             
Peter looked up to see his sister standing in the doorway with a plate of cake.

             
“
You two should have some cake,
”
she told them.
“
It
’
s good.
”

             
Henrik leaned forward.
“
So what happened? Did you find the gun or not?
”

             
“
I
’
m sure he has it,
”
Peter explained.
“
And I think he knows we know.
”

             
“
How do you know?
”
Henrik wrinkled his brow.

             
“
He wanted to talk to me just as I was leaving. He said,
‘
I have to tell you something,
’
but then a man from the boatyard came up, and they started talking about his airplane. How come people always interrupt when someone is going to tell you something important?
”

             
“
Hmm,
”
said Henrik.
“
Maybe we should keep an eye on Matthias, after all.
”

             
“
I think we should,
”
agreed Peter.
“
I mean, first there was the gun, then he starts talking about a wedding, and now he
’
s acting really suspicious.
”

             
Elise wrinkled her nose at the boys.
“
You
’
re not making any sense, Peter. None of what you
’
re saying fits together. Maybe Henrik was right the first time. Maybe it was just a flare gun you felt in the plane.
”

             
“
Did I say that?
”
Henrik sat up in his bed.
“
I
’
m not so sure anymore.
”

             
Elise giggled and turned down the hall back to the kitchen.
“
Let me know when you two have it figured out,
”
she told them.
“
I think you
’
re looking too hard for another detective adventure.
”

             
Peter looked at his friend and shook his head.
“
Well, she was right about one thing.
”

             
“
What
’
s that?
”

             
“
It
is
kind of confusing. First, she believes me about the gun, and you don
’
t. Now you believe me, and she doesn
’
t. Next it
’
s going to be me who doesn
’
t believe it.
”

             
Henrik grinned.
“
You have to admit it
does
sound a little far out. Maybe it was the plane ride....
”

             
“
That
’
s another thing, Henrik. Do you realize we came
this
close to getting killed today?
”
He held up a hand with his pointing finger and thumb half an inch apart.

             
But Henrik only shrugged and nodded.
“
When it
’
s your time to go, it
’
s your time to go, I guess.
”

             
Peter knew he couldn
’
t let that comment just slip by unchallenged.
“
And then what?
”

             
Henrik laughed.
“
You mean, will I go to heaven? I have no idea, Peter. You
’
re the one with those kinds of answers. Maybe we
’
ll figure things out better after a piece of cake.
”

             
“
I thought you had a stomachache.
”

             
Henrik patted his stomach, smiled, and swung out of his bed.
“
Pound cake is the best medicine.
”

             
Back in the kitchen, they found that Matthias had returned, and everyone was laughing at his jokes. Peter found a place in the corner by the window, where he crossed his arms and brooded.

             
I blew it again
, he scolded himself.
Another chance to tell Henrik about heaven, and I blew it
.

             
He looked over at Matthias and wondered how anyone so funny could be a spy, or whatever he was. At least there weren
’
t any gun
-
shaped bulges in the man
’
s vest pocket.

             
“
Aren
’
t you going to have any cake, Peter?
”
asked Lisbeth, who was cutting another piece for herself and Uncle Morten.

             
Peter nodded and inched closer to the group.
“
Sure,
”
he replied cautiously.
“
Just a little piece, though.
”

             
“
You
’
re still growing,
”
she told him. When she smiled and sliced a thick piece onto a plate, there was no way Peter could say no.
“
You can handle it.
”

             
Peter sighed and nodded, then listened as the adults started talking about politics. Usually he didn
’
t want to listen to anything like that, but Matthias
’
s voice echoed throughout the kitchen.

             
“
We
’
re going to change all that in Palestine,
”
he told them.
“
Just think. The chance to make a whole new country from scratch.
”
He caught Henrik
’
s eye and winked.
“
And it
’
s the perfect place for a young man like you to celebrate your
Bar Mitzvah
. You
’
re thirteen, aren
’
t you?
”

             
“
I
’
m almost fourteen,
”
answered Henrik, trying to swallow a bite of cake.
“
But we decided I wasn
’
t going to have a Bar Mitzvah.
”

             
Matthias stopped chewing, stared at Henrik, and put down his plate. He glanced over at Mrs. Melchior, who looked away.

             
“
You
’
re not?
”
Matthias had become the judge and jury, and he looked ready to pass sentence on the boy who said he wasn
’
t going to go through with the traditional Jewish coming
-
of
-
age ceremony for boys. Henrik leaned back, his fork in midair.

             
“
This is something all Jewish boys go through, is it not?
”
continued Matthias.

             
Everyone kept silent, and Peter felt as if he could have sliced through the tension in the kitchen with the fork he held in his hand.

             
“
Matthias,
”
began Mrs. Melchior,
“
we had plans, years ago, when Henrik
’
s father was still alive, but then
...
you know
...”

             
“
Yes, I know,
”
replied Matthias, taking a long sip of coffee. The steam rose around his face,
and Peter wasn
’
t sure if it was from the coffee or from Matthias
’
s ears.
“
And this is a perfect example of what I
’
ve been telling you, Ruth. That is, you raise your children in a foreign country, and they turn into foreigners.
”

             
“
Now, Matthias,
”
objected Henrik
’
s mother.
“
That
’
s not quite fair
—”