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Chapter Five
EVA
Teo puts my suitcases in the trunk of his ancient, enormous, black car and waits for Hans to add his before slamming the heavy lid down. Hans opens the back door for me—probably to make sure he gets the front seat.
My crush on Hans has not survived this incident. First, he leaves me on my own when I get arrested—although to be fair, he did bring Teo to the rescue. But then I find him flirting with the angry policewoman while I’m languishing in a cell.
Okay, that’s a bit dramatic, but I am majoring in theater arts, so no one should be surprised. And I’m definitely over Hans.
I settle into the wide and surprisingly comfortable back seat and click my seat belt. “These are just like the airplane. No shoulder strap.”
“My dad retrofitted the front seats.” Teo pulls the strap away from his chest. “It originally had shoulder belts, but not retractable like this.” He turns the key, and the engine roars to life. We rumble out of the parking garage, pausing to run the ticket through the automated gate, then rolling out to a multi-lane street. A few minutes later, we get onto one of Germany’s famous autobahns. Within minutes, I’m asleep.
I wake briefly when we come to a stop. I open bleary eyes to see vast green fields and mountains. “Where are we?”
“Just got off the A3.” Teo glances over his shoulder, then steers the car to the right and accelerates again. “Do you need a rest stop?”
“No, I used the bathroom at the police station.” I wrinkle my nose. Bathrooms smell different here. Not bad, just different. Or at least the police station one did.
“It’s another hour to Freiberg. You want a snack?” He lifts a bag of chips from between the two front seats. “Hans brought me American potato chips.” He glances at his friend snoring softly in the passenger seat. “I didn’t tell him we can buy these at the Aldi in town.”
I take the bag and grab a handful of crispy, ruffled chips. “Probably more expensive, though.” I try to hand the bag back to him, but he waves me off.
“Undoubtedly. How do you feel?”
“Groggy. Like I pulled an all-nighter and then missed the exam.” I rub my eyes and cringe at my greasy-feeling face. “And like I need a shower.”
“I am one hundred percent familiar with that feeling. There’s a little basket on the floor back there. Help yourself.”
I look down and see the narrow wicker basket snugged against the seat. It’s a treasure trove of post-flight care items: bottled water, individually packaged skin wipes, assorted candies, snacks, breath mints, mirror, even a comb in a hygienic wrapper. “I guess you’ve done this before.”
“A few times.”
I snort a little laugh. Teo and his family have come to Oregon every fall for as long as I can remember. They open the family Christmas ornament stall at the Polkafest in November, then stay until Christmas. They usually head home before New Year’s Day, although Teo stayed in Rotheberg this past year. He only returned to Freiberg a few weeks ago after the BlauerHimmelFest and my uncle’s wedding.
I gaze out the windows as we wind into beautiful green hills, zipping past farms and tidy villages. Most of the houses have window boxes full of geraniums, much like my hometown. But it feels more real here—probably because it is. Rotheberg has a strict “Bavarian” building code, which means all the houses look the same. Here, there’s more variation than I realized was possible while still looking like they belong. Our town’s planning commission should plan a field trip.
I doze a bit, rousing when we turn onto a narrower road. Now we slow to wind through the villages. In some, people throng the sidewalks while others appear mostly deserted. We pass a park where a few children play soccer, then pick up speed again, swooping down a forested slope and back up. “How much farther?”
“Almost there. We cross the border at the top of that next hill. We’re actually in Austria right now—we left Germany about two kilometers back. It’s a funny little corner of the world.”
“And this is the main road into town? There’s no freeway?” I stare at the woods—there’s little underbrush and the trees look organized somehow.
“Oh, there’s an autobahn. Well, not an autobahn exactly, but a highway. I just like this road better. It’s more fun to drive. Plus, there’s a great view of the city up ahead.” We crest the hill, and he brakes, pulling off to the side. “Come on.”
When he opens his door, Hans’s eyelids lift, then he droops in the corner again. I consider waking him, but Teo left him to sleep, so maybe he’s been here before. As I unlatch my seatbelt, Teo swings my door wide and holds out a hand. I take it and let him pull me from the car.
Beyond empty fields, a city spreads out before us, but it doesn’t look like an American city. Golden afternoon light floods the ancient-looking buildings crouched close together within a high stone wall. Their steep, red tile roofs have faded to a burnt orange. Off to the side, a green space surrounds a castle on a rise. It’s a fairy-tale castle, like someone ripped it from an animated movie, but more square than the Disney versions. Pointed red roofs top tall towers and another wall runs around the gardens, encompassing a few smaller buildings. Beyond the wall, a lake glimmers like molten metal. The scents of woodsmoke and fall leaves tease my nose.
“That’s the palace, of course.” Standing close behind me, his faint cologne tickling my nose, Teo points over my shoulder. “Parts of it are really old—fourteenth century—but most of it has been renovated in the last thirty years.” His arm swings away from the castle. “The Universität is there—see the gray roofs next to the church? And that’s the Altstadt, or the old town, of course.” His arm drops. “The modern parts of the city are down the eastern slope of the hill, so you can’t see them from here.” He steps back, and a slight breeze chills my neck.
“It’s beautiful! I can’t believe I’m finally here.” I spin around and squeeze him in a tight hug. “I’ve been dreaming about visiting Freiberg almost as long as I’ve known about it, and I’m finally here!” After a long hesitation, his arms wrap around me in a quick hug, then release.
I squint up at him, but his face is unreadable with the sun behind him. We’ve been friends a long time, but he’s never been physically demonstrative. Maybe it’s a Freiberg thing. His parents are definitely on the more reserved side. With a mental shrug—and a note to dial back the physical affection—I step back. “Thanks for stopping. And for rescuing me from the police.”
“You already thanked me for that.”
“Yeah, but it’s kind of a big deal. It’s not every day I nearly get arrested for having a cool suitcase. I need to get a new scarf for my handle, though. Good thing I’ll have a couple of months before I need it again.” I turn to look at the city, then yank out my phone and push it at him. “I need to send my dad a picture. Can you?”
