Seeing the posters around town made the group even more excited about the readings. Mrs. Peters pulled a thick itinerary out of her purse and went over it with her fellow travelers.
“Let’s all take a quick nap when we arrive and then perhaps we can go for a walk around the city before dinner,” she said. “The stories will be read at the cemetery at noon tomorrow, so we’ll meet in the lobby at ten o’clock for the complimentary breakfast, or if you want to sleep in, we’ll be leaving the hotel at eleven o’clock sharp. Then after the readings we can have lunch in a café of our choice and I’ve scheduled a bike tour of Tiergarten Park. Then on Thursday we’ll visit the Brandenburg Gate, the Chancellery, and a couple museums. On our last day I thought we could visit some of the local shops before our flight home.”
They all nodded excitedly although Conner wasn’t as thrilled at the idea of spending a whole day shopping as the girls were.
Soon the group arrived at Hotel Gewaltiger Palast, which Mrs. Peters told them meant the “Enormous Palace Hotel” in German. However, the translation didn’t live up to their expectations. There was nothing very big or grand about the hotel at all. It was fairly small, very plain, and had only a few staff members. According to what the group could make out from the photos framed on the wall, the hotel had been owned by the same family since before World War II.
The older woman behind the front desk also looked like she had been there since before the war. She was tall with curly gray hair, and her beaded eyeglasses chain was the most colorful thing in the lobby. Her English wasn’t as good as the driver’s had been but she was able to check them in without a hitch.
There was obvious annoyance in her eyes as she helped them get settled. Conner couldn’t tell if she didn’t like Americans specifically or just people in general. Mrs. Peters helped her pass out the hotel room keys.
“Although I doubt I have to worry about anything with this particular group, I must remind everyone that even though we’re in a different country, all school rules and policies will strictly be enforced while we’re on this trip,” Mrs. Peters warned them. “Now, everyone, try to get some sleep.”
They boarded the elevator. Wendy and Lindy were sharing a room on the second floor. Bree was sharing a room with Mindy and Cindy on the third floor. Conner had his own room on the fourth floor, but Mrs. Peters stayed in the elevator after he got off.
“Where is your room, Mrs. Peters?” Conner asked, holding the elevator door open.
“I’ve booked myself the Chancellor’s Suite,” she told him. “When you get to be my age, Mr. Bailey, you’ll learn that nothing is worth traveling for unless you can do it in absolute comfort. Sleep well.”
The elevator doors closed and Conner found his room. He wasn’t surprised to see how bleak the room was. The bed was small and looked stiff, the carpet was brown and smelled as old as it looked, and the beige wallpaper was peeling in the corners. Conner didn’t mind too much, though; he knew his accommodations reflected the budget he was traveling on.
He tossed Betsy on the chair in the corner and dived into the bed. It was even stiffer than he’d thought and the sheets felt like they were made of paper. As uncomfortable as it was, Conner still expected to fall asleep instantly upon becoming horizontal, but even after lying there for ten minutes with his eyes closed, Conner was wide awake. He was either jet-lagged or just too tired to sleep.
“I wonder if Alex is around,” Conner said to himself. “She’ll get a kick out of seeing this room.”
He opened Betsy and retrieved the small piece of mirror he had chipped off at home. He tapped the glass with his index finger and it started shimmering as it tried connecting him to his sister in the fairy-tale world. He stared at his reflection, hoping it would change into his sister’s at any moment. Unfortunately, the reflection didn’t change.
“I wish magic mirrors had answering machines,” Conner said, and tossed it back into his suitcase.
He went to the window and looked out at the small piece of Berlin he could see. A little part of him felt at home knowing he was in the part of the world where the Brothers Grimm had lived. Perhaps the Brothers Grimm had met his grandmother and the other fairies on the very street his hotel was on. Perhaps before it was a hotel the building had been an old tavern where Mother Goose had met them for a drink one afternoon.
Mrs. Peters was right: There was so much history in this city—more than Conner could have imagined. He could have sworn he felt Berlin’s old and experienced heart beating in the ground far beneath him.
Conner’s gaze eventually returned to the hotel and he saw Bree leaning out a window below him. Both earbuds were plugged into her ears and she was looking out at the city just as he had. He wondered if she was thinking the same things he was. He imagined how excited Bree would be if he told her about the history of Germany that only he knew. Surely she would then think he was as cool as she was.
Bree looked up and caught Conner staring at her. Conner froze and his face went white. He couldn’t believe he had been so careless. Bree just laughed and waved up at him. Conner waved back, acting like he had just noticed her. He quickly shut the window and the drapes before he could seem any creepier and lay down for the recommended nap.
When he woke up from the nap, Conner was so jet-lagged he felt like he was underwater. He went on a walk with Mrs. Peters and the girls, and they got a quick bite to eat at a small restaurant down the street from their hotel. Conner tried to avoid looking at Bree altogether—he was positive his cheeks would explode if she caught him looking at her for another second.
When he returned to his hotel room, Conner tried contacting his sister again, but there was still no reply. He figured she was deep in preparations for the ball.
The next morning Conner awoke just as tired as he’d been when he went to bed—he was worried jet lag may have been a terminal illness. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand and panicked when he realized he had overslept and only had five minutes before they were supposed to leave. He jumped out of bed like he was in the middle of a fire drill and quickly threw on his clothes and brushed his teeth.
Conner didn’t even wait for the elevator—he ran down the stairs to the lobby. He quickly grabbed a piece of toast at the complimentary-breakfast table, and met Mrs. Peters and the girls by the hotel entrance at five past eleven. They were standing by a pamphlet rack looking at all the things there were to do in the area.
“Sorry I’m late,” Conner said. “I overslept.”
The Book Huggers glared at him as if he had committed a federal offense.
“Not to worry, Mr. Bailey,” Mrs. Peters said. “Five minutes late is not a tragedy.”
“Good thing you’re not a paramedic or a train operator,” Mindy said, and crossed her arms. She and the Book Huggers were going to take any opportunity to scold him that they could.
“Let’s get on our way to the cemetery so we can enjoy some of the festivities before the readings begin,” Mrs. Peters instructed.
They left the hotel and found the driver from the day before waiting for them outside. They climbed aboard the van and all sat on the edge of their seats, excited about their first German adventure. The van hurried through the Berlin streets and the girls once again took pictures of everything they saw. They drove through Tiergarten Park, which stretched through the center of the city like a German version of Central Park, and past the iconic Brandenburg Gate. Conner instantly recognized the gate’s pillars and its statue of a chariot at the top. A few minutes later, once they’d driven through a winding maze of buildings, they finally arrived at St. Matth?us-Kirchhof cemetery.
Although Conner hadn’t been sure what to expect, the cemetery was different from what he had imagined. It was at the end of a long cul-de-sac and almost looked like a courtyard to the tall apartment and office buildings that surrounded it. A domed playground sat a few feet away from the hundred-and-fifty-year-old cemetery’s entrance; even it was no exception to Berlin’s integration of old and new.
A massive stone gate guarded the entrance to the cemetery. It was covered with traces of dead ivy and had a crucifix at its peak. Although it was the oldest structure in this part of the city, it had maintained its authoritative and imperial prestige over the years. There was something about the gate that demanded respect.
Brown welcoming posters advertising the Grimm-Fest were placed all over the gate. Their van was one of many vans and buses dropping people off for the readings. There were even a couple news crews covering the event.
“Here we are!” Mrs. Peters said. She led her group out of the van and through the stone gate.
“This place is creepy,” Lindy said, and Wendy nodded along with her. They were hesitant to go very far inside.
“This place is awesome,” Bree said, and took a picture of the gate with her phone; it was her first picture of the trip.
Beyond the gate, the cemetery was very festive. Everywhere they looked they saw students from the University of Berlin in brown shirts that matched the posters answering attendees’ questions. Teachers and students of all ages, from all corners of the globe, were clumped throughout the cemetery, speaking in different languages.
Most of the attendees were gathered around the miniature chapel in the center of the cemetery. A red velvet rope blocked the front steps, making the porch into a stage of sorts. In the center of the porch was a white pillar with a glass display case on top of it. Inside the case was a very old wooden chest. Without a doubt, Conner knew he was looking at the Brothers Grimm time capsule. He smiled from ear to ear. Alex and his grandmother would have been as happy as he was to see so many people so enthusiastic about the work of the Brothers Grimm.
“Mrs. Weiss! Mrs. Weiss!” Mrs. Peters called out to the crowd ahead of her. A woman who could only be described as the German version of Mrs. Peters turned to face them. She wore almost the exact same pair of glasses and dress that Mrs. Peters had on.
“Mrs. Peters! It’s so wonderful to see you!” Mrs. Weiss said, embracing her old friend.
“Students, allow me to introduce an old colleague of mine, Mrs. Weiss,” Mrs. Peters said to Conner and the girls. “She’s the reason we’re here. She teaches English in Frankfurt and contacted me immediately once she heard about today’s event.”
“I’m so happy you could make it,” Mrs. Weiss said, and looked down at her watch. “The readings should begin in twenty minutes or so, but until then, please have a look around the cemetery. There is face painting and a short story contest on the south lawn.”
“Yes, please enjoy yourselves while Mrs. Weiss and I catch up,” Mrs. Peters instructed them. “Just don’t go too far.”
The group split up, going in separate directions like moths drawn to different lights. Mindy and Cindy went to check out the face painting while Lindy and Wendy hurried to see if it was too late to enter the short story contest. Conner wandered deeper into the cemetery to discover it by himself.
The perimeter of the cemetery was lined with enormous mausoleums while smaller graves and tombstones were scattered across the center of the lawns. The dates of birth and death spanned to more than two hundred years ago. Conner almost couldn’t believe how long most of the dead had been buried there. He did, however, have an inkling of what it would be like, after flying internationally and being stuck in his own cramped space for a long period of time.
He walked along the mausoleums admiring the pillars, statues, and stained-glass windows. He figured these must be the grave sites of the very important and wealthy—he was sure he would find the graves of Wilhelm and Jacob Grimm among them. But after walking the perimeter of the graveyard twice, he still hadn’t found their place of rest.
A cluster of people were gathered around a row of smaller graves in the center of the cemetery. Conner’s curiosity got the best of him and he went to see what all the fuss was about.
Finally, he pushed his way through the crowd and saw who all the excitement was for. Everyone was huddled around four identical graves lined up in a row. Each tombstone was tall, dark gray, and square. Conner had to read the names on the last two in the row twice before he believed his eyes. He was staring at the very humble graves of Wilhelm and Jacob Grimm, buried alongside Wilhelm’s sons Rudolf and Herman.
“I don’t believe it,” Conner said to himself.
“What don’t you believe?” said a familiar voice. Conner looked to his right and saw Bree standing beside him. She had also just pushed her way to the front of the observers.
“I can’t believe this is it,” Conner said. “You’d think the most important storytellers who ever lived would have flashier graves. I expected a big crypt with statues of fairy-tale characters and stained-glass windows of castles and gingerbread houses. But this is pretty dull.”
“I kind of like it,” Bree said, and snapped a picture of the graves with her phone. “Very simple and refined, that’s how I’d like to be remembered, I think. Besides, I have a suspicion they don’t care very much anymore.”
“I guess,” Conner said. He was disheartened by the whole thing. He felt the Brothers Grimm deserved much more.
Bree seemed to find his disappointment charming. “I don’t think anyone gets remembered exactly the way they want to,” she said. “You just have to do the best you can with what you have and hope you’re recognized for it. But I doubt there’s anyone else in this cemetery that can draw a crowd this size.”
A horn sounded through the graveyard. Everyone turned to the chapel and saw a man dressed in ceremonial lederhosen blowing a trumpet on the porch. Noon had arrived and the readings were about to begin. The crowds of people scattered across the cemetery grounds migrated toward the front steps of the chapel, eager to hear the untold stories of the Brothers Grimm. Conner and Bree walked over together and regrouped with Mrs. Peters and the Book Huggers.
“I’m so excited,” Cindy said, and clapped her hands.
“I hope one of the stories is about an awful curse like in ‘Sleeping Beauty,’ ” Mindy said. “I’ve always loved a good curse!”
“I hope one of them is a sequel or a prequel to one of their other stories,” Lindy said. “It would be amazing to hear what happened to our favorite characters before or after the stories that we know.”
Conner chuckled—he knew, but he wasn’t going to share it with them.
“Is something funny, Conner?” Mindy asked.
“Oh no, I’m just excited, too,” he said with a shrug.
A woman emerged from the chapel and the crowd greeted her with warm applause. Conner figured she must be a local celebrity. She was tall and plump with a round, rosy face. She wore a bright orange dress with large buttons that matched her short, curly orange hair perfectly. She stood at a microphone that had been placed next to the time capsule, and waved to the crowd.
She greeted the onlookers first in German, then in French, and then in English.
“Good afternoon, everyone, and welcome to St. Matth?us-Kirchhof cemetery,” she cheerfully greeted in a German accent. “My name is Sofia Amsel and the University of Berlin has given me the pleasure of reading to you three brand-new fairy tales written by the Brothers Grimm. They have never been heard before today.”
The English speakers in the crowd cheered. Sofia removed the wooden chest from the glass case and held it delicately in her hands.
“This chest was recently found in the archives of the University of Berlin from 1811. It was the will of the Brothers Grimm themselves that the stories inside be opened and read to the public two hundred years later,” Sofia announced. “I will read each story in German first, then in French, and finally in English. The stories will be translated into other languages and made available on the University of Berlin’s website. Now, it is my honor to read the first story.”
The crowd happily cheered. She gently opened the wooden chest and removed an aged scroll of parchment wrapped in a white ribbon. The man in the lederhosen carefully took the chest from Sofia and held it while she read the first story into the microphone.
As she had promised, Sofia read it first in German and second in French. Conner and the girls heard the German-and French-speaking people in the crowd squeal and laugh in delight as the story was read, clapping at the parts that tickled them the most.
Conner’s anxiety bubbled up more and more the closer she got to telling the story in English. He couldn’t wait to hear who or what the Brothers Grimm had written about, and wondered if it would be anyone he or his sister knew.
Sofia cleared her throat before beginning to read in English. “The first story is called ‘The Curvy Tree,’ ” she announced.
Conner’s face instantly went red. He gasped so quickly and so hard that he started coughing. He could feel Bree’s suspicious glare on the side of his face.
“How funny,” Conner said to her when he caught his breath. “That’s the name of my story. What a coincidence.”
“Yeah, a coincidence…,” Bree said. Her suspicion was short-lived, though, and soon faded away. After all, what else could it have been but a coincidence? She looked back at Sofia as she began reading from the scroll.