Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4 - 7 2018 | Page 299

Smiling in Deutschland
Korean International School, Bezanilla, Maria - 17
I
moved up a branch. There were no more good cherries where I was standing. Helene was still
below me, working on finding the last of the juicy ones. Half sitting on a relatively sturdy branch, I
reached in front of me and pulled at a cluster of cherries, all of which seemed appealing and in
accordance with Helene’s description of “usable cherries”, and bended over to place them in the
basket.
“Aufsteigen,” I looked down to see Helene struggling to move the basket to a higher
branch. “A little help, bitte.”
We carefully hoisted the basket in stages, as she climbed up behind it, supporting it from
underneath. It was much too heavy now but Helene insisted that more was needed. In a comfortable
silence, we worked our way around the top of the second tree, stripping it of the good cherries, and
occasionally throwing the split or leaking ones at each other. We picked cherries for around five
minutes more before Frau Friebe came to get us. “Please, I’ll be making pies for a week if you pick any
more Kirschen.” She moved a little, trying to find a better place to see the basket from. “Yes yes,
beenden, it’s enough. Come down now.”
Helene expertly climbed down before me so that I could pass the basket down to her.
Having made sure that she had the basket secured in her arms, I moved down a couple of branches
before jumping down to the ground. With both feet back on freshly cut grass and the basket
overflowing with perfectly ripe cherries, I breathed in the crisp air of an early morning and immediately
felt a smile making its way onto my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Helene steal a glance at
me, and though she turned back quickly, I managed to catch the look of pride on her face. What can I
say, the girl got a smile out of me, the first in weeks, she had every right to feel proud.
I helped Frau Friebe bring the basket inside and, with some strain, placed it on the kitchen
countertop. Frau Friebe turned to me, “Danke,” and smiled sweetly. I returned the smile, “Gern
geschehen. It’s no problem.”
From outside Helene was calling my name, asking me to join her again. I walked out
through the back kitchen door and turned a slight right in the direction of the garden. Frau Friebe’s
garden wasn’t huge or extraordinary, but in the space she had, she had somehow managed to fit two
chicken pens, two cherry trees, and several short crop rows on which she was growing potatoes,
strawberries and carrots. The two cherry trees, small but sturdy, worked as a natural divider between
the crops and the chicken pens, in order to protect the crops from getting picked at. When I got to the
garden, Helene was grabbing something from the top of one of the pens while gesturing for me to get
closer. On either side of the ramp, we readied ourselves to open the wooden gate of the pen; Helene
with the small basket that she had grabbed, and me, as instructed by her, with ready hands to grab at the
first chicken that ran out. “Ready?” she looked at me expectantly. I nodded, “Yes.”
With a quick tug at a rope, the gate was opened and out flew my hands to catch the first
chicken and take it by surprise, and Helene with great timing placed the basket underneath the hen I
had, just as it cackled and released an egg on the basket. We burst into laughter as I let the hen go and
five others followed after her, all coming out in a frantic manner to avoid getting caught. Helene
looked at me, “Do you want to do this part?” I thought about it briefly. Her face clearly showed that
she would enjoy watching me do this, whatever ‘this’ was. I figured that was a bad sign. I shook my
head. “I’ve never had to do anything like this; from where I come, nobody has chickens.” She smiled at
that. I shrugged, “You show me and maybe I will do it after you.” She seemed to agree with that. She
handed the basket over to me, with the medium-sized egg rolling around in it, and stuck her hand
inside the pen. Her face in that moment was a mixture between a grimace and concentration, but in
seconds it became a look of satisfaction as she brought out three eggs, much the same size as the one we