Free The Klipfish Code by Mary Casanova

unbearable, her worries torture. If Olaf's parents could side with the Nazis, then there had to be others, too. What if her parents had been reported by a neighbor for helping the Resistance? If arrested, they would face torture, reeducation camps, or death. She wanted to believe that
Norwegians were quietly winning the war through underground methods. But were they? With each passing day, ordinary people seemed to lose more of their freedoms.

    She whispered again to herself, "Mama and Papa are fine." Teardrops fell from the corners of her eyes and into her ears. She didn't bother to wipe them away.
    ***
    Later that month, icy winds turned to gales as Marit walked with Aunt Ingeborg and Lars to church, their heads bent into the wind. Bestefar, who usually didn't miss a service, was away fishing for a few days.
    Pastor Ecklund stood before his congregation. His usually blotchy red face was as pale as a peeled potato. He clung to the edges of his simple podium, as if to hold himself upright. His normally long-winded sermon ended abruptly. For a long moment he was silent, and when he started again, his voice carried determination.
    "My dear friends, this will be my last service here. Bishops and pastors across Norway have decided to resign their posts, and I am resigning as well, as a matter of conscience. We will not be under the Nazis' authority—only God's. And I cannot in good faith lead you if I must bear a Nazi yoke."
    A rush of whispering swept through the church, but Pastor Ecklund raised his hand, bringing quiet again.
    "To agree to partner with the Nazis would mean to be puppets in their service. They would approve or disapprove of sermons. They would command us how and what to teach. And I know it would not be a message of God's love, forgiveness, and goodwill toward others. It would be to further their cause of racism, fear, and intimidation. Services here will henceforth be led by Nazi-appointed pastors. I will, therefore, not meet in this building," he said. "Rather, I invite you all to join with me in worshiping in the privacy of our homes."

    ***
    Over the next week, snow fell and blew into drifts around the church building. During breaks at school, Marit and Hanna often took shelter from the wind in a snow fort they'd carved from a deep drift. The half roof and short walls glowed an icy blue and protected their secrets.
    Marit clapped her birthday mittens together to warm herself. The sun barely traveled above the horizon, casting long shadows from the gravestones across the snow. From her squatting position, she rose to stretch. The wind, damp from the sea and stiff with cold, slapped her cheeks. She ducked back down, but not before spotting Olaf wandering toward their shelter, his stocking-capped head tucked between his shoulders.
    "Olaf. He's coming this way. Do you think he wants to talk to us?"

    Hanna shrugged and rubbed her mittened hands together.
    In seconds, he was standing there. Wind teased the tufts of sandy hair jutting from his cap. He shifted from boot to boot, his gray eyes downcast.
    "Marit, I must talk with you."
    She looked at Hanna, whose eyes were determined, reminding Marit of their unspoken decision. Marit wished things were different. They rose in unison from behind their snow wall and walked away.
    "I feel bad for him," Marit said under her breath. "Terrible—but we have no choice."
    "I know," Hanna replied. "We have to."
    That afternoon, before Miss Halversen excused them for the rest of the day, she stood in front of all the students. First, she called toward the balcony, then to the younger students. "I'm speaking for all of the teachers here at Godøy School," she began, a history book clasped against her yellow sweater. "We want you to know that teachers across Norway have been ordered to teach students Nazi propaganda." She paused, as if to make sure they had heard.
    Marit couldn't imagine it. Miss Halversen was supposed to teach them how to be Nazis?
    "Teachers across