How Could You

A The Boy in the Striped Pajamas Fanfiction

Summary: Gretel walks in on her mother and Lieutenant Kotler kissing. How will she deal with the aftermath? Mild sensuality, language, and violence.

Disclaimer: We own nothing!

/!\ Warnings: Mild sensuality, language, and violence.

Chapter One

Gretel rolled to a halt. Swinging her leg up and over in a swift dismount, she walked her bike across the yard, propping it against the wrought-iron railing flanking Out-With's front steps. A sunny day was Mother Nature's rare boon to Europe, and one to enjoy while it lasted.

She scanned the empty driveway. Father's still gone? She shrugged off her worries that lingered until the creak of the door heralded his arrival. Work often kept him late, which she didn't mind...much. He was returning the Fatherland to its former glory, after all.

Doffing her shoes, she padded into the foyer and deposited them in their allotted spot. After discovering [Bruno's] muddy tracks for the umpteenth time, Mother enjoined: "Shoes worn indoors are forbidden henceforth Or Else." Gretel did not (nor did she want to) know what "Or Else" meant, except it did not bode well for her and her brother - yet Father and his men galumphed around the house with impunity - which Mother tolerated, but barely, eyes blazing, face flushed, and lips pursed to stifle a rebuke.

"Maria?" The call rang hollow. Gretel, rubbing her belly, drifted toward the kitchen, hoping to find the maid fixing an afternoon snack. "Maria?" No answer. Mother must have sent her on an errand. I'll make it myself, then! As she reached for the spigot -

"Kurt…" His name dissolved into giggles.

Gretel froze. Mother.

"Kurt!"

Gretel peered furtively round the corner. Gasping, she reeled back, clutching her stomach, imploring it not to betray her.

Mother. Lieutenant Kotler. Kissing with the fervor of star-crossed lovers, his brawny arm cinched around her waist so she wouldn't topple as he shoved his tongue down her throat.

Once the qualm passed, she cast another glance into the parlor, just as they separated. Mother glanced her way seconds after she had ducked for cover, one hand draped over the Lieutenant's bicep, the other on his chest, broad and gleaming with a spread of medals.

"Kurt, did you hear something?" The whisper of stockings and plod of heavy jackboots approached.

Gretel ran for it.

Thump!

"Gretel!" Mother loomed overhead, forehead corrugated in a frown. "What are you doing on the floor?"

"I...I slipped," she said lamely.

"Are you hurt?"

"Not really." She rubbed her head with a grimace, blinking back stars and tears.

Mother's pressed her lips together as her hands alighted on her narrow waist. Jealousy lanced through Gretel; she hoped her gamine figure would blossom into hers, but the tacit prayer remain unanswered.

"You should be more careful, Gretel." Mother admonished as she and Lieutenant Kotler hauled her to her feet.

"I am going to my room." Her appetite had deserted her. "Excuse me..." Gretel flew past them and upstairs, shut her door, and flopped onto bed, gazing at the ceiling. There has to be a rational explanation behind what I saw.

"Maybe Mother was telling Lieutenant Kotler a secret. That's why they were so close…" Nonsense! There was no disputing what she saw, but why?

The door burst open.

Gretel bolted upright. "Bruno!" She contemplated throwing a pillow at him, but decided against it; her little brother would run and tattle, and she'd never hear the end of it from their parents. Gretel, you are the big sister. You know better than to hit your brother…. "What did I tell you about knocking before entering?"

Bruno replied with his own question. "Do you want to go outside and play?" He raised the kite he had first flown on a beach in Spain, the summer before the world erupted into war a second time.

"Nein, dummkopf! Can't you see?" She pointed outside. "Where can you possibly fly a kite? We're surrounded by trees! It'll get tangled in the branches."

Bruno dropped his head, crestfallen. "Oh."

Gretel sighed. "How about the tire swing? I'll push you." She stood, eager to beguile an afternoon otherwise spent moping. Her brother darted out the room and seemed to have been waiting by the swing for ages by the time she arrived. Mother had always urged them to enjoy their childhoods since they would be gone before either knew it...

An hour later, when the pair headed inside to wash up for supper, Kurt was on his way out; Gretel's forgotten resentment surged forth with a vengeance.

"Gute nacht, Lieutenant Kotler," Bruno said.

"Gute nacht, Bruno." He tousled the boy's hair with a smile whose light never warmed his eyes. Meeting them without wavering required a Herculean effort on Gretel's part. "Gute nacht, Fraulein." He turned to leave.

"Kurt?" His name drifted from the doorway. They turned and found Mother behind them, batting her lashes. Gretel refrained from scoffing and rolling her eyes. "Will you be joining us for supper? It is almost ready."

"I would love to, but -"

"Oh, Kurt!" Mother bounced down the steps. His eyes lingered on the pale, slender fingers caressing his arm before reuniting with hers. "It's late, and I know you are too tired to fix your own supper at home. Join us, please."

The Lieutenant's resolve crumbled. "I suppose I can -"

Gretel gnashed her teeth. "Will Father be joining us?"

Mother's smile waned, and, for a fleeting moment, Gretel believed she would retract the invitation, say 'Never mind' and let Kurt leave.

Mother didn't. "No. He called and said he could not make it. An unexpected situation arose and he is taking care of it. He will be home later." Grin resurrected, she ogled Kotler, clinging to him as they walked inside.

The next evening...

Gretel stared at her plate of lamb, steamed vegetables, roasted potatoes, and buttered rolls, the melange of aromas roiling her stomach. She glanced at Mother, who stopped cutting her noisette to return her daughter's gaze, her smile left unreciprocated. Her husband and son swung their heads toward them.

Father speared a potato and popped it into his mouth, steely blue eyes fixed on his daughter. "What is the matter, Gretel?" She was grateful he was here tonight; yesterday, she nearly exploded as Kotler and Mother simpered at each other across the table like besotted fools.

"My stomach is upset. May I be excused?" She threw her napkin on the table, beside her plate.

Mother's frowned; she prided herself on her meals despite never lifting a finger to prepare them, and considered an unfinished meal a personal affront. "Cer - certainly. Perhaps you'll feel better if you lie down awhile?"

"Perhaps" Doubt it. "Gute nacht."

"Gute nacht."

Gretel averted her eyes on the way out. She shuffled upstairs and into her room, closed the door, and crawled into bed, rain pummeling the mullioned window. The Move had filled her with trepidation and excitement about the bigger and better everything awaiting her at Out-With. Now, she missed Berlin's halcyon days more than ever. What I'd do to have it all back.

Why must I grow up? Why can't I live in blissful oblivion like Bruno? Lieutenant Kotler loves her. Not me.

A sob escaped her lips. Once she started, she couldn't stop. Gretel cried until her head throbbed and her nose streamed and her cheeks ran slick with tears. She had given Kotler her heart and he had torn it piecemeal, stomping its remnants into smithereens. Deep down, she knew she was too young for him, but hope sustained the delusion she stood a chance with him before Mother killed it.

Minutes or hours later - she wasn't sure - a knock sounded at the door. "Gretel? "

She said nothing. There was a pause then the footsteps receded. Eyes riveted to the door, Gretel waited for sleep to claim her until it did.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Chapter 2 coming next week.