Trafika Europe 9/10 - UK in Europe

Zöe Beck someone seen her birth certificate?” “Sowhat,” Papa answered, flipping through the sports page and ignoring the buttered roll my mother had set on his breakfast plate. “Heidi says there was a little something on the way.” Papa now lowered his paper. “Schneider’s?” “What was on its way?” I asked. “No idea. None of us were there, were we?” my mother said. “And what about now?” “She made it go away.” “What? What?” I cried. “A baby?”

“Pah,” Papa responded. “It has nothing to do with us.” He ducked back behind the paper. “But they’re Italians. That means they’re Catholic, every last one of them.” “We’re not,” Papa murmured in a tone that made it clear that, for him, the subject was closed. I ran to the school and immediately told the others. The subject was over our heads. Thorsten half-heartedly made a dumb joke about the women who marched around with the “My body belongs to me” signs, but nobody laughed. I could only parrot what I had heard from my brother. Down with §218, stuff like that. What did that mean for Silvana’s mother? Would they put her on trial

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