She’d barely been able to get out of a punishment for running off again after the burning. Only a convincing performance pretending she had been feeling sick had saved her. Of course her parents were a small problem in comparison to what might happen if the Brotherhood caught her.
She rang the doorbell at Oskar’s house. It took only a few seconds for Oskar’s mother to open the door. She was a tall woman, with her hair in a tight bun. She gave Nela a tight smile without teeth. “You’re late.”
It was still two minutes until classes would begin. “Is Brother Malte already there?”
“No,” Mrs. Arnold said, ushering Nela into the bright corridor. Floor to ceiling windows lined the door on both sides. Nela supposed it was to show the world, especially the Brotherhood, that they had nothing to hide.
Nela had to stifle a gasp when Mrs. Arnold turned around to lead her into the living room. She was wearing a blouse that had a transparent back, revealing a tattoo – an unchanged tattoo. She still hadn’t gotten over her shock when she sat down at the long dining table where Finja and Oskar were already waiting. Finja gave her a quick look but Nela wasn’t sure of its meaning. Oskar had his hair slicked back again. Before receiving his tattoo he’d never worn it that way. He was also wearing a white, starched shirt and black slacks. Nela didn’t know what to make of that. He gave her a smile that was just as fake as the one Darko had given her yesterday.
“Oskar, I’d like a word with you,” Mrs. Arnold said. He got up with a jerk and quickly followed her out of the room. His shirt was so thin and white in the back that he, too, practically flashed his tattoo at everyone.
“What’s up with their backs?” she whispered.
Finja pressed her lips into a thin line. “My mother told me about it. More and more witches have come into her boutique and asked for blouses and dresses that are either backless or transparent in the back.”
“Is this something the Brotherhood has asked for?” She was pretty sure her father would already have bought her a new wardrobe if that were the case. Of course that would pose a problem, considering her tattoo wasn’t quite as it was supposed to be.
“Not yet,” Finja said quietly. The bell rang. “But some witches want to show the Brotherhood that they have nothing to hide.”
“But they’re only going to encourage the Brotherhood to actually pass a law forcing us all to run around like that.” Steps rang out. She snapped her mouth shut and straightened in her chair. Brother Malte walked in, dressed in his usual gray smock with the red cross on the front. Oskar was close behind, his head lowered. Nela felt a wave of resentment. Why did the Arnolds have to act so cowardly? For the first time that day she was glad that she’d agreed to meet Darko.
Brother Malte walked past Finja and Nela with a small nod before he took a seat at the head of the table. Oskar slipped into his chair and actually folded his hands on the table as if he was going to start praying any moment.
Nela nudged him and gave him a questioning look. But Oskar shook his head with a warning glance before his eyes darted back to Brother Malte who was setting up his work utensils. A cross, which he propped up against the vase with white roses in the middle – like a barrier between him and them, a way to protect himself from their evil. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d volunteered to be a teacher for witches or if he’d been forced to do it. He didn’t really seem to enjoy being anywhere near them. Finally Brother Malte fixed them with his emotionless gaze, his hand folded atop the tabletop in a mirror position of Oskar’s.
Finja rolled her eyes and Nela felt like doing the same, but Malte was watching her. “What is sin?” Even though it was a question directed at her, she knew an answer wasn’t expected. It had never been. As usual he fell into one of his monologues, telling them
She rang the doorbell at Oskar’s house. It took only a few seconds for Oskar’s mother to open the door. She was a tall woman, with her hair in a tight bun. She gave Nela a tight smile without teeth. “You’re late.”
It was still two minutes until classes would begin. “Is Brother Malte already there?”
“No,” Mrs. Arnold said, ushering Nela into the bright corridor. Floor to ceiling windows lined the door on both sides. Nela supposed it was to show the world, especially the Brotherhood, that they had nothing to hide.
Nela had to stifle a gasp when Mrs. Arnold turned around to lead her into the living room. She was wearing a blouse that had a transparent back, revealing a tattoo – an unchanged tattoo. She still hadn’t gotten over her shock when she sat down at the long dining table where Finja and Oskar were already waiting. Finja gave her a quick look but Nela wasn’t sure of its meaning. Oskar had his hair slicked back again. Before receiving his tattoo he’d never worn it that way. He was also wearing a white, starched shirt and black slacks. Nela didn’t know what to make of that. He gave her a smile that was just as fake as the one Darko had given her yesterday.
“Oskar, I’d like a word with you,” Mrs. Arnold said. He got up with a jerk and quickly followed her out of the room. His shirt was so thin and white in the back that he, too, practically flashed his tattoo at everyone.
“What’s up with their backs?” she whispered.
Finja pressed her lips into a thin line. “My mother told me about it. More and more witches have come into her boutique and asked for blouses and dresses that are either backless or transparent in the back.”
“Is this something the Brotherhood has asked for?” She was pretty sure her father would already have bought her a new wardrobe if that were the case. Of course that would pose a problem, considering her tattoo wasn’t quite as it was supposed to be.
“Not yet,” Finja said quietly. The bell rang. “But some witches want to show the Brotherhood that they have nothing to hide.”
“But they’re only going to encourage the Brotherhood to actually pass a law forcing us all to run around like that.” Steps rang out. She snapped her mouth shut and straightened in her chair. Brother Malte walked in, dressed in his usual gray smock with the red cross on the front. Oskar was close behind, his head lowered. Nela felt a wave of resentment. Why did the Arnolds have to act so cowardly? For the first time that day she was glad that she’d agreed to meet Darko.
Brother Malte walked past Finja and Nela with a small nod before he took a seat at the head of the table. Oskar slipped into his chair and actually folded his hands on the table as if he was going to start praying any moment.
Nela nudged him and gave him a questioning look. But Oskar shook his head with a warning glance before his eyes darted back to Brother Malte who was setting up his work utensils. A cross, which he propped up against the vase with white roses in the middle – like a barrier between him and them, a way to protect himself from their evil. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d volunteered to be a teacher for witches or if he’d been forced to do it. He didn’t really seem to enjoy being anywhere near them. Finally Brother Malte fixed them with his emotionless gaze, his hand folded atop the tabletop in a mirror position of Oskar’s.
Finja rolled her eyes and Nela felt like doing the same, but Malte was watching her. “What is sin?” Even though it was a question directed at her, she knew an answer wasn’t expected. It had never been. As usual he fell into one of his monologues, telling them
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