“What about your knee?”

“I’m cleared to jog. Not about to run a marathon.”

“Have fun,” Ellie calls after me as I head down the hallway. I hear springs squeak as she flops back down on my bed.

Several other girls are scattered around the living room when I walk down the stairs, all looking as relaxed as Ellie. They study me as I pass them in my athletic shorts and baggy t-shirt, and I sigh internally. I didn’t expect to leave here with lifelong friendships, but I’ve been here for over a week and there’s no sign of anyone but Ellie liking me at all.

The four-story house that hosts Scholenberg attendees is centrally located, and it’s only a few blocks to the park I know is nearby. The streets are busy, filled with chattering locals and tourists alike. The scenery of the city still shocks me. Aside from a spring break trip to Mexico and a soccer camp in Canada, this is my first time out of the US. I’d seen photos of Europe before coming here, but those didn’t compare to the history permeating every step.

The scarred cobblestones, ancient buildings, and colorful architecture are a far cry from the sleepy southern town I grew up in, or the college town Lancaster is located in. The scent of street food and the chatter of foreign languages fill air still damp from rain the sky expelled earlier. Watery sunshine peeks through light gray clouds here and there, extending misty fingers that trickle down to the damp street.

The crowds extend to the park that’s my destination. I can see them milling about when I’m still a block away, unbothered by the overcast day. Even the park is a work of art. Wrought iron gates mark the entrance surrounded by trimmed topiaries. Carved concrete balustrades and oak trees line the walkway that opens into a plush spread of grass dotted with lollygaggers reading or napping. Past it, there’s a massive marble fountain sending shifting sprays of water upward toward the cloudy sky.

I start jogging along the gravel path as soon as I pass through the open gates. Once I reach the fountain, I realize the park is much larger than I initially thought. It’s a green oasis in the center of the city. There’s a playground, dog park, snack bar, and some soccer fields. I stop at a bench to retie my left lace, which has become nothing more than a loose loop.

“Of all the parks in all of Germany.”

My stomach lurches, torn between sinking with dread and jumping with excitement. I finish tying my sneakers and look up. Adler Beck is standing at the opposite end of the bench, wearing sunglasses, a baseball cap, and an inscrutable expression.

“Did you just make a Casablanca reference?”

“Ja.” One German word I’ve mastered.