Anne Frank and Me by Cherie Bennett

joke. There wasn’t a single coffee bean in it.
    â€œNational coffee for everyone,” François proposed grandly. “Forget politics. Let’s swing like the Americans.”
    â€œOh, I love swing!” Mimi exclaimed.
    â€œExcellent.” François leaned over and planted a comically huge smooch on Mimi’s cheek; everyone began teasing them. Just then, M. Courot came out from the kitchen and hurried to their table.
    â€œNicole, I am terribly sorry, but you must leave.”
    â€œBut she was here with me just a few days ago,” Mimi protested. “You welcomed her then.”
    â€œI welcome her now,” M. Courot said, his voice quavering. “But three Huns are checking my storeroom. Go, quickly. If they do an identity check they’ll arrest you. Then they’ll arrest me. Go!”
    Nicole’s heart pounded as she grabbed her vest and book bag from the table. Mimi stood, followed by Jacques and Suzanne. “If you’re leaving, we’re leaving,” Mimi insisted.
    â€œStay,” Nicole said. “I have to get home anyway.”
    â€œI want to walk you home,” Jacques declared.
    â€œWe all will,” Mimi added.
    â€œNo. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She hurried toward the door without looking back.

twelve
    I t isn’t fair.
    Nicole passed the concierge’s ground-floor apartment and ascended the beautiful circular staircase that led to her family’s fourth-floor flat, wondering why things couldn’t be like they used to be. Before the war, she had written in her journals that being Jewish had never made her feel different from her friends. Even in the American dream, as far as she could remember, Jews were treated the same as everyone else.
    Now, everything had changed.
    â€œNicole, is that you?” her mother’s anxious voice rang down the hall as Nicole pushed open the apartment door.
    â€œNo, it’s Scarlett O‘Hara,” Nicole muttered under her breath, naming a character from a favorite American novel.
    Mme. Bernhardt hurried to the door and embraced her. She wore an apron over a beautiful dove gray dress that was much too big. Funny. Nicole had hardly noticed before. Because there was so little to eat, even her plump mother was growing slender.
    â€œWhere were you?” Mme. Bernhardt asked sharply.
    Nicole sighed. Why did her mother always sound as if she were interrogating her? “With Jacques and Mimi. The lift is stuck again, I had to walk up.”
    â€œI told you to come straight home from your exams, Nicole.”
    â€œAm I not even allowed to have a social life?”
    Her mother smiled sadly. “Later on, I’m sure of it. But now, not so much of one.”
    Nicole looked away. Mme. Bernhardt put her hand to her daughter’s chin and gently turned Nicole’s face to hers. “Listen to me. I care more about your safety than I care about your fun. Do you understand me?”
    â€œYes, Maman.”
    â€œGood. I managed to get some beans. I cooked them with vermicelli for dinner.”
    â€œI’m not hungry.” Nicole went to sit on the couch. Her mother followed, maternal antennae on full alert.
    â€œSomething happened today,” she concluded.
    A woman spit on me on the street, Maman.
    â€œNothing happened.”
    â€œTell me.”
    M. Courot told me, in front of my friends, to leave the cafe. FORBIDDEN TO JEWS.
    â€œI told you, nothing.” Nicole jumped up. She couldn’t bear just sitting there. “I’m going down to Claire’s.”
    Mme. Bernhardt folded her arms. “You are telling now instead of asking, young lady?”
    â€œMay I go downstairs to Claire’s?’
    â€œYes, you may.” Her mother smoothed hair off her face. “Try not to take everything so hard, my child. The Occupation will not be forever.”
    â€œI’ll try.” She kissed her mother on each cheek, then headed for the