Shhhhh, she whispers fiercely, and Otto’s eyes widen in surprise.

He is a little nymph-like boy: thin and pale and dark haired, and he and Ania often play for hours under the willow, making hospitals for sick animals. Sometimes Otto pretends to be a girl and lets Ania braid his shaggy hair. They carve games in the cool, smooth dirt, using pebbles as pieces.

No one else on Langebein Strasse plays with Otto Smeltz. For one thing, his father is not a doctor or a lawyer like the other men on the street. He is a shopkeeper who runs a small specialty goods shop in the city center. For another thing, the family is bohemian, at least compared to everyone else. And also they are Jewish, immigrants from Poland.

Sometimes, when the weather is nice, his family plays music in the garden. Herr Smeltz has a fiddle and his wife a mouth harp. Their daughter, Susi, a wild girl with messy hair and an insolent expression, plays her accordion. It is considered unseemly—like a carnival, according to Frau Richter, who would have a heart attack if she knew how much time Ania spent with little Otto. On warm summer evenings, Ania opens her bedroom window and listens as she lies alone in bed.

This afternoon, Ania’s rebellion makes Otto nervous. When will you come out? he whispers. What if they don’t leave without you? What will your father do when he finds you? His questions nip at her high spirits. Shut up, she hisses, suddenly aware of her own power in their friendship. She is a year older and taller and also in possession of a more intangible authority. Be still.

Ania—Otto tugs at her sleeve and she shakes him off. Shut up—Ania clamps a hand over his mouth and watches an instinctive, animal-like fear jump in his eyes. Reluctantly, he stays with her and does not call out.

Later, when she is finally discovered by the policeman neighbor Frau Richter enlists to help with the search, Ania is both terrified and jubilant. Why did you do this? Doktor Fortzmann asks gravely, sitting in the big leather chair in his study. You should know better. He uses his deepest, most moral voice. The switch is propped against his chair.

He made me, she says, squirming and looking down at the carpet.

The Smeltz boy?

The policeman found Otto, too. But, unlike Ania, he was dragged by the ear to the police station.

She nods her head, thinking of the officer’s expression. It was his idea, she says, and her heart races. He wouldn’t let me come out.

Something changes in Doktor Fortzmann’s bearing—his hands spread over his knees and tighten slightly.

What do you mean by this?

Ania’s story gathers steam. He held on to me. He put a hand over my mouth when I wanted to call out.

Herr Fortzmann’s brows lower. You are not to play with him again. Do you understand?

Yes. She nods. I understand.

To Ania’s surprise, the switch remains untouched. She is sent to her room without supper, and later that night Frau Richter slips her a bowl of pea soup with a slice of ham. Poor child, the woman says, shaking her head, clucking her tongue against her teeth. We should have guarded you against that boy. It leaves Ania with a peculiar feeling, as if the lie is a physical object stuck in her gut. And though she is hungry she can’t eat. The night is beautiful, but there is no laughter or music from the Smeltz house.