"You're an awful, awful dancer, Libby, you know that?" Jasper laughs, stuffing his face with the cornbread I made myself.
I stick my tongue out at him as I continue to shimmy and shake all over the place. Duke Ellington wails out my favorite song, 'It Don't Mean A Thing (If You Ain't Got That Swing)' from the dinky radio I manage to sneak out everyday. I jive all over the place, creating circles around Jasper and my picnic blanket.
"As if you could do any better. You have as much rhythm as a rock," I joke, messing my fingers through his hair as I grapevine pass him. He tries to grab hold of my wrist, but I wriggle free from his grip and scurry away. "Gotta be faster than that," I smile at him, shaking my jazz hands in front of him, just to get under his skin.
Jasper looks at me and sets his eyes in a challenging glare. I can't help but to let out a taunting laugh. It's simply too easy to get him riled up.
Just as I predicted he would, he jumps up and sprints towards me, his arms wide open to take me in. Already ready for him to come after me, I zig-zag around the open field. I hold my arms wide open, spreading them out like the wings of a plane. My laughter echoes through the open air, and Jasper doesn't even come close to catching me.
"You're going to have to do better than-" I start to taunt him, but I speak too quickly. Jasper's arms close around my waist and he tackles me to the ground.
We land on a patch of flowers with a loud thump. The wind gets knocked out of me, but as soon as I regain my breath, I start to laugh loudly.
Jasper keeps me pinned on the ground, holding my wrists to the ground, trapped in his large, strong hands. I can't contain my laughter, as much as I want to be mad at him for taking me to the ground. I can see him struggling to keep a smile from appearing on his 'frustrated' face.
I clamp my mouth shut and narrow my eyes at him. I've stopped the flow of laughter from leaving my throat, but I can't even attempt to stop the smile playing on my lips. I stare back into his big, blue eyes. I can't help but to notice the way the light shines on them perfectly and makes them appear a crystal clear shade of blue, matching the sky in the background.
Blue was my favorite color, and I never really could put my finger on why... Not that Jasper's eyes had anything do with it, of course!
A light pink spreads across my cheeks and I pray that Jasper doesn't notice it. Unfortunately, he seems to, for his thick eyebrows furrow together in confusion.
"Get off me, you schmuck," I struggle beneath his grip for a few moments before he releases me. "Gave up pretty easily, I'd have to say, Strauss," I smirk at him, my weird moment flying out of our minds, at least I hoped it had.
"I'm just going easy on you, you pansy," He remarks, grabbing my outstretched hand and pulling himself up from the hard ground.
His hand lingers on mine longer than I thought normal. It was a few moments, moments that felt like hours, before he dropped my hand. 'Get a grip on yourself, Libby! He's your friend!'
"You wish I was a pansy. Then you would actually win at some things," I comment, giving him a rough shove, hard enough to nearly make him stumble to the ground.
He lets out a laugh and looks at me over his shoulder. I see something new in his eyes that makes me want to run the other way. It wasn't scary, or mean, it was just- different... It wasn't the playful smile that Jasper usually gave me.
So what do I do?
Of course I don't simply ignore it and think nothing of it. That would just be too normal.
"Stop looking at me like that, you're being weird," I frown, giving him another shove. My eyebrows furrow in frustration.
I can tell my comment took Jasper by surprise. His cheeks turn a bright red, along with his ears. A blush that deep is not something I saw from Jasper often.
"Looking at you like what?" He asks, lying through his teeth.
I open my mouth to explain it, but I can't exactly pinpoint it. Maybe I was the one being weird. It's probably all the comments Matthieu has been making lately; they're getting to my head.
"Never mind, I was joking," I take my turn to completely lie. "Now it's my turn to see those dancing skills of y-" I start to change the subject, running in front of him, when an incredibly loud rumble starts to rip through the sky.
I freeze as the wind around us starts to whip around, turning my hair and dress into every direction. I clamp my hands over my ears, and stare up into the sky, confused. My ears continue to ring in my cupped hands.
Jasper appears at my side, taking me in his arms and ushering me into the safety of our favorite apple tree. He hides me behind a thick branch before he steps back out into the open feild. His shaggy blond hair whips around and he shades his eyes as he scans through the sky.
I grip the tree tightly as I continue to cover my ears. I watch Jasper, trying to get a hint of what's going on. Suddenly, he spots something that causes a flash of fear to appear on his face. He races back to me under the safety of our tree.
"What is it?" I ask, having to shout to be heard over the loud noise. I can't help but to let fear eat at the inside of my stomach.
"Nazis. A group of their planes are flying overhead," He explains, shouting as well. I watch his face carefully, trying to figure out whether I should be scared or not. His face just twists in worry and he wraps an arm around me.
"I better get back home, otherwise Mama and Papa will be worried sick," I frown, resting my head on his shoulder.
He doesn't say anything but nods his head. I wrap my arms around his waist and give him a tight hug.
"I'll see you tomorrow, right?" I ask, studying his face carefully. Jasper became a totally different person whenever Nazi, or German rule was brought up. He was very sensitive and I could never completely predict how he'd act.
"Of course," He nods quickly, his eyes finally looking back at me, "Be careful, please?" He practically begs.
"Sure, sure," I roll my eyes and take a step out from beneath our tree. He grabs a hold of my wrist and holds me back,
"Really Libby, I mean it. This just means there are more soldiers running around. No funny business," He speaks very seriously to me.
Usually I would get irritated that he doubted my ability to take care of myself. But I feel the sincerity surging from every muscle in his body. A smile plays on the ends of my lips and I refrain from making a smart-ass comment.
"I promise," I give his hand a tight squeeze before running away quickly, in the direction of my house.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * Jasper's POV * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
I watched Libby race back towards her house, her black-as-night hair floats behind her. I made sure to watch her until it became impossible. Worry doesn't leave the pit of my stomach, even though I know she's perfectly safe back home.
The Nazi planes are gone now, luckily. So I wrap up our makeshift picnic and stuff it in the hole in the bottom of the apple tree. Libby and I have many things stored in that secret little hole. We keep a small source of food, just for ourselves. As well as bathing suits, blankets, and a lantern. If the hole was any bigger, I wouldn't be surprised if the contents of our bedrooms would be emptied into it. We spend more time here than we do back at home.
I pick up my jacket hanging from a branch on the tree and shrug it back on, before making my way back home.
My large, Victorian home comes into view. This house has been in our family before my grandfather was even born. It was my mother's pride and joy and she loved to boast about our 'ancient treasure' to her friends.
Parked in the front of our house, I see many different automobiles. They all share one thing in common; the Nazi flag protruding from the front hood of the car. I can't stop the look of distaste from appearing on my face when I pass it.
I wipe my boots on the welcome mat before entering through the front door.
"Ah, there's my boy now!" I hear, not even thirty seconds after entering the house. I take a deep breath before forcing a polite smile on my face.
My father, Hans, stands in front of our stairwell, beside a group of very important-looking men. I give them all a polite, curt nod before taking my spot beside my father.
"This is my son, Jasper." He introduces me, placing a proud hand on my shoulder. I stand just a few inches higher than my father, so his arm doesn't rest as comfortably as it used to. "Jasper, these are my colleges." He gestures to the men in front of us, all dressed in traditional Nazi general uniforms.
"How old are you, lad?" One man asks, his voice sounds scratchy and old, which I'm sure is due to countless years of smoking tobacco.
"17, sir," I reply,
"Not too long now then, right my boy?" Another man asks, a proud and confident smile taking place on his face.
I nod and smile politely, even though I wanted nothing more than to spit on the boot of the men in front of me.
Not too long... Who was I kidding? I'm sure it won't be long at all until my father ships me away to boot camp. There I'll be trained to become a killing machine, just as the majority of German boys my age have already done.
"Well Hans, we'll see you at the meeting tonight, I presume?" Another man, one who eyed me very seriously, asks my father.
"Of course, of course," My father assures him and gives them all a firm handshake.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Jasper. I'm sure we'll be seeing much more of you soon," The scratchy-voiced man addressed me.
"Yes, sir," I answer when spoken to, just as my father had raised me.
"See you then," My father shuts the door behind the group of men.
Hoping the conversation was over, I start back up the stairs, only to be stopped by my father,
"Jasper, can I have a word?"
I knew his colleagues being here was going to bring up our most arguable topic. Whenever my father brought up me joining the Nazis, it always caused friction between us.
"Yes, father?" I ask, retreating back down the stairs.
"Just as General Heinz was saying, you're getting to the age-"
"But I'm not there yet," I interrupt him, even though my common sense begs me to stay silent. Father gives me a hard look that zips my lips immediately.
"You'll be 18 in three months... I'm just saying, why wait?" He explains, and from his pocket, he pulls out a form, "I had them bring an enlisting form. You can just fib on the age line, no one will check up, especially since your father is a General," He hands me the stack of papers. I have to resist the urge to rip them up in my face.
"Father, I don't think I'm right for the army..." I speak softly to him, trying not to add fuel to the fire.
"Nonsense boy, you have Strauss blood in you. We are born to be war heroes. I'm sure you're no exception," He lets out a hearty laugh, as if I had told him the funniest joke he had ever heard.
"Maybe some day, but I don't think-" I try to weasel my way out of this, but father won't hear any of it.
"Jasper, you've got a long line of Strauss' to live up to. Everybody in the family is waiting for you to join, they're expecting it," Father explains, his voice becoming sharper and sharper by the minute.
He didn't have to tell me that. I can't even count how many times my family members have harassed me about joining. My uncles were all veterans, and my cousins, who are a few years older than me, have already gone through boot camp.
"I really was looking into architect school," I mumble, pointing my eyes downward, avoiding his gaze at all costs.
"You're joking, right?" He raises his voice, "You're really considering throwing the family tradition down the line, just because you're being a big baby?" He asks, grabbing my chin roughly and forcing me to look him in the eyes.
"I'm not being a baby, I just don't want to do something for the rest of my life that I'll hate!" I start to shout back at him, yanking my chin out of his grip.
"You don't even know what you want! You're a child!" He screams at me, throwing one of his fingers in my face.
"I'm not enlisting," I state it matter-of-factly, making sure he understands.
I stare into my father's eyes, identical to my own pools of blue. I watch as fire burns behind them. I can hear the grinding of his teeth from where I'm standing.
I turn around to head up the stairs, but just as I turn, my father reaches out with his hand and gives me a painful slap across the face.
Fire burns on the surface of my cheek as I stagger back. Instinctively, my hand goes up to my cheek and I give my father a hateful glare. He just straightens out his uniform and marches down the hallway, leaving me behind.
I think of all the reasons I wouldn't want to join the Nazi party. I couldn't justify all the careless slaughtering of innocent people. I would be one of the heartless soliders that has put Libby and her family into a constant state of fear.
But most of all, I don't want to become what my father is; a monster.