English is hard “Uncle says you aren’t working on your English,” Heinrich stated in German, frowning at his sister. He crossed his arms in front of himself, unconsciously mimicking their father when he was cross about unfavorable tutor reports. “You are going to need it next year.”
“I don’t want to go to that stupid American school!” Hilda protested stubbornly.
“We don’t have a choice,” Heinrich insisted implacably, internally sympathizing with her, but having a better sense of how bad schooling in Germany would have been after last summer. He had read the trial transcripts. Hilda had not. This was for the best. “You will need English, Hilda.”
“English is too hard!” she burst out in anger and frustration. “I’m never going to learn it fast enough!”
He sympathized, he did. English was hard. He’d be the first to grant that. But he couldn’t help feeling a bit angry at his sister. He’d had only a couple of weeks to ready himself for immersion into a foreign language and culture. She’d had two years to prepare and she still wasn’t any better off than he’d been. What exactly had she been doing with all that time?
“Learn it anyway,” he told her sternly. “You have to.”
“I don’t,” she retorted. “You can’t make me!” She spun on her heel and stalked away furiously.
Heinrich scowled after her. “You won’t make any friends without English!” he called after her retreating back.
“I don’t need friends!” she shouted back.
He sighed as she slammed a door between them, and trudged back the other way to tell Uncle Karl that he’d tried. And to remind him that Heinrich had made no promises. Convincing Hilda to do something she had set her mind against was nigh on near to impossible.