Hans watched the countryside pass by outside. Nearly two hours passed before they pulled up in front of a rundown row house in an urban residential neighborhood of London. Marla turned and looked at Hans.
“Well, Hans, this is it. They’re expecting you, so you can go on in.”
“Yes . . .” Hans didn’t move.
“Nothing. If Peter and Becca can do it, then I can, too.”
Hans took a deep breath and got out of the car. He waved halfheartedly to Marla, and then walked up alone to the row house that would be his new home.
Inside, it was cozy and clean, if still in need of repairs. In the kitchen, other teenagers were busily cleaning up after dinner or doing their homework.
A chubby German boy shook Hans’s hand. “Guten Tag! Come on, I’ll show you around.”
The boy led Hans past a central bathroom in the hall and into a room with rows of beds. “It’s no Hotel Adlon, but it’s not bad,” he said, smiling.
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