The Wave

Laurie laughed. "Would you like me to drop a hint?"

"Come off it, Laurie," Amy said. "You know how much he likes you. He doesn't even look at other girls."

"He'd better not," Laurie said. She noticed that there was a wistful note to Amy's voice. Ever since Laurie had started dating David, Amy had wanted to date a football player too. It sometimes bothered Laurie that underlying their friendship was a constant competition for boys, grades, popularity, almost everything one could compete for. Even though they were best friends, that constant competition somehow prevented them from being really close.

Suddenly there was a loud knock on the door and someone tried the doorknob. Both girls jumped. "Who is it?" Laurie asked.

"Principal Owens," a deep voice replied. "Why is this door locked?"

Amy's eyes went wide with fear. She quickly dropped her cigarette and started digging through her pocket-book for a stick of gum or a mint.

"Uh, it must have been an accident," Laurie replied nervously, going to the door.

"Well, open it immediately!"

Amy looked terrified.

Laurie gave her a helpless look and pulled the door open.

Outside in the hall were Carl Block, The Grapevine's investigative reporter, and Alex Cooper, the music reviewer. They were both grinning.

"Oh, you two!" Laurie said angrily. Behind her Amy looked as if she was going to faint as the two biggest practical jokers in the school stepped into the room.

Carl was a tall, thin guy with blond hair. Alex, who was stocky and dark, was wearing earphones connected to a small tape player.

"Something illegal going on in here?" Carl asked slyly, making his eyebrows bounce up and down.

"You made me waste a perfectly good cigarette," Amy complained.

"Tisk, tisk," Alex said, looking on disapprovingly.

"So how is the paper coming?" Carl asked. "What do you mean?" Laurie asked in exasperation. "Neither of you has handed in your assignments for this issue."

"Oh-oh." Alex was suddenly looking at his watch and backing away towards the door. "I just remembered I have to catch a plane to Argentina."

"I'll drive you to the airport!" Carl said, following him out the door.

Laurie looked at Amy and shook her head wearily. "Those two," she mumbled, making a fist.

4

Something bothered Ben Ross. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he was intrigued by the questions the kids in his history class had asked him after the film that day. It made him wonder. Why hadn't he been able to give the students adequate answers to their questions? Was the behaviour of the majority of Germans during the Nazi regime really so inexplicable?

That afternoon before he left school, Ross had stopped at the library and taken out an armful of books. His wife, Christy, would be playing tennis that evening with some friends, so he knew he would have a long period of uninterrupted time to pursue his thoughts. Now, several hours later, after reading through a number of books, Ben suspected that he would not find the real answer written anywhere. It made him wonder. Was this something histor­ians knew words could not explain? Was it something one could only understand by being there? Or, if possible, by recreating a similar situation?

The idea intrigued Ross. Suppose, he thought, just suppose he took a period, perhaps two periods, and tried an experiment. Just tried to give his students a sampling, a taste of what life in Nazi Germany might have been like. If he could just figure out how it could be done, how the experiment could be run, he was certain it would make far more of an impression on the students than any book explanation could ever make. It certainly was worth a try.

Christy Ross didn't get in that night until after eleven o'clock. She'd played tennis and then had dinner with a friend. She got home to find her husband sitting at their kitchen table surrounded by books.

"Doing your homework?"

"In a way, yes," Ben Ross replied without looking up from his books.

On top of one of the books Christy noticed an empty glass and an empty plate with a few crumbs from what once must have been a sandwich.

"Well, at least you remembered to feed yourself," she said, picking up the dish and placing it in the sink.

Her husband didn't answer. His nose was still stuck in the book.

I bet you're just dying to find out how badly I beat Betty Lewis tonight," she said, kidding him.

Ben looked up. "What?"

"I said I beat Betty Lewis tonight," Christy told him.

Her husband had a blank look on his face.

Christy laughed. "Betty Lewis, you know, the Betty Lewis who I've never won more than two games in a set from. I beat her tonight. In two sets. Six-four; seven-five."

"Oh, uh, that's very good," Ben said absently. He looked back down at the book and started reading again.