Free Tales from the Fountain Pen by E. Lynn Hooghiemstra

almost two years ago. Theo’s been in hiding for over a year now and we’ve not heard from him in all that time. I miss him.
    I turn to go home but instead find myself face to face with Johann, who seizes the opportunity to grab me and kiss me. I struggle fiercely and once I break free I run as fast as I can, his boisterous laughter ringing in my ears.
    Now the whole village will know and brand me a traitor. How could he do that to me? After that one kiss a few weeks back I never encouraged him again, even though he brought bread every day for a week. I made sure to tell him no, in his language and mine.
    I never told anyone about that first kiss either, but now it will be all over Bergum in a matter of hours.
    Hot tears stream down my face as I keep running for home. My heel catches on a loose paving stone and I stumble but don’t fall. I can see our house and then I miss my step up the curb, my ankle twists and I go sprawling. Pain radiates out from my skinned knees, the palms of my hands and my right ankle. Oh, please, don’t let it be broken, especially not now that the doctor doesn’t have the materials to make plaster casts anymore.
    I lie there on the sidewalk gathering my nerves to attempt standing. My muscles feel shaky and I can’t stop crying.
    “Maggie!” I hear Siepie’s voice, full of concern, and I can see her shape through a haze of tears, coming toward me. “Maggie, what happened? Are you hurt?”
    She clumsily tries to haul me up into a sitting position but it’s just too much for her small size. It makes me giggle a little through my tears. Just enough to let me pull myself together, and with an effort I manage to sit up on the curb. Siepie sits next to me and I notice she’s not wearing a coat. She must have seen me fall and come running out of her house. I wonder why my sister isn’t out here too, but I already know the answer to that.
    “What happened?” Siepie asks again.
    “Oh, great,” I cry, examining my knees and avoiding her question. “I hope I can mend those holes in my stockings.” I’m wearing my last halfway decent pair of wool stockings; they’ve already been darned in a few places and are a little too short. If my legs grow any longer, mended knees will show under my skirt. “I wish I could wear trousers, it would be warmer too,” I complain.
    Siepie nods understandingly, but is still waiting for an answer as to why her normally athletic friend went sprawling.
    “I’m doomed,” I say, drying my eyes with my handkerchief. My hands shake and the palms are red and raw. I pick a tiny pebble out of my left palm, which immediately starts bleeding.
    “Give me that,” Siepie says, almost as if scolding a child. She takes my hand and pulls out her own handkerchief and ties it round my hand.
    “Ouch, not so tight,” I cry.
    “Don’t fuss,” Siepie scolds. “You want the bleeding to stop, don’t you?”
    “Yes,” I say, compliantly.
    “Good. Now tell me why you think you’re doomed,” she says, and takes my damp handkerchief from me. She folds it and then presses it in turn to each of my skinned knees, mopping up the worst of the blood. “The soldiers have left your house. Surely that’s good, right?”
    “Yes, except one of them decided to kiss me on his way to the station. Just out there, in the middle of the street for everyone to see!”
    Siepie nods pensively before she says: “And what did you do?”
    “What?” I ask, afraid she’s accusing me of something.
    “What did you do? Come on, Maggie, your response is what’s important here and what people will remember.”
    “I tried to push him away,” I say.
    “So, you struggled?” Siepie asks.
    “Yes,” I say, a tiny feeling of relief budding in my chest. “Yes, I did. I struggled. I’m sure I must have bruises on my arms where he held me.”
    “Good, that’s excellent, Maggie,” Siepie says, and stands up. “You are far from doomed. Now, go inside and get cleaned up.”
    I comply, wondering