“Father works all the time. All. The. Time. If he’s not writing, he’s reading. If he’s not reading, he’s pacing. And if he’s not pacing, he’s yelling at someone in the other room—usually Uncle Peter.

My teacher says that work is punishment for our sins. I don’t know what sins are, but they sound boring. When she asked if I like work, I said no. I hate it.

I’m not gonna work when I grow up anyway. I’m gonna be a Viking. Or maybe a detective. Or a Viking who solves mysteries. Yeah. With an axe. And a notebook. I’ll find out who poisoned the spring and chop their head off. BAM. That’d fix things.

People keep whispering at school. Grown-ups too. They think I don’t notice, but I hear them. It’s always about Father.
“He’s causing trouble again.” “He’s making things worse.” “Why can’t he just keep quiet?”

They don’t know what I know. He’s the bravest man in this town. He’s not scared of anybody. He even yelled at the mayor! The mayor!

I got in a fight at school today. It was nothing. Really. Just… some boys were talking. Saying things. Calling Dad a traitor. I told them to stop. Nicely. I swear! But then they laughed. So I got mad. I pushed one. Then another grabbed my bag. And then it was like—BOOM—everyone was hitting. All arms and knees and mud. Teacher says I can’t come back for the rest of the week. She said I was dangerous. Dangerous! But I don’t care. They called my father an enemy of the people. That’s not true. He’s the only one telling the truth! He told me that when something’s wrong, you stand up. Even if it’s hard. Even if people throw things. Even if it means you lose.

And he said that someday, he’s going to teach me how to be a man. Well—I’m already trying. I didn’t cry. Not even when someone punched me in the ribs. And yeah, I said I’d hit them with a rock next time. I probably won’t. But I could! I’m not scared. I’m strong.

It’s just… sometimes I wish he wasn’t fighting everyone all the time. I wish people didn’t look at us weird in the bakery. I wish Mom didn’t cry when she thinks I’m asleep.

But if they’re all scared of the truth, that’s not our fault, right? We’re supposed to be the brave ones. We’re supposed to stand up and say it. Just like Father.

I don’t care what anyone says. My dad’s not a traitor. He’s my dad. He’s a good man. And I’m gonna grow up and be just like him. Maybe even better. I won’t yell so much though. And I’ll still be a Viking. With a lab coat. Maybe.

Do you think… do you think they’ll still let us stay here? Even after everything?”