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It all started with me claiming that my father was a Swedish astronaut and that he was in space observing a satellite that he had named after me.
A real space expert, who was traveling somewhere between Mars and the Moon and saw things that we other people could only dream of.
Nice story, sold well. The truth, however, was just sobering. There was no stupid satellite called Gyps, nor was there a Swedish astronaut who was my father. Actually, there wasn't even a Gyps father, nor was there a Gyps at all.
Of course, I existed and my name really was Gyps, but since a person is made of atoms, there wasn't one Gyps, but a Gyps that was randomly composed of millions of small Gyps atoms.
Complicated, I know. That was probably why I had to go to a remedial class and was a hopeless case. I never understood my existence.
It was a bit like math. If you didn't know your basic arithmetic, there was no point in starting with geometry, algebra or fractions...
“Do you think the guy will cut our throats at the border and steal my shoes?” Aligraleph emerged from the bushes where he had disappeared to pee.
I briefly grimaced, then looked up at the sky again. Full of stars, but poor in Swedish dad astronauts.
“Why does he steal your shoes, of all things?” I finally asked, snorting. ”He might as well steal mine...”
“Why?” Aligraleph asked, raising his eyebrows arrogantly as soon as he climbed onto the hood of the old Mercedes next to me. ”Why would the guy steal my shoes? Gyps, please! Just look at your old Aldi kicks, then at my noble footwear, and then think hard about your question, Dr. Watson...”
I laughed, even though I didn't find the saying funny at all and the guy was a really nice man who looked a bit like one of the Klitschko brothers. His funny jacket and his good taste in music had allowed us to get into his car in the first place.
He was a really nice man. Of course, it could have gone really wrong, but the Russian guy was not a weird guy. He hadn't looked at us strangely, nor had he demanded that one of us sit next to him in the passenger seat.
He had chatted with us over the rearview mirror the whole way and proudly told us about his daughter, who was studying medicine in St. Petersburg. She was a really smart girl. A lady who knew what she wanted.
“The sky!” Aligraleph suddenly shouted loudly and punched me hard in the upper arm. ”Look at this sky, man! Is that cool or what?”
Although I had only been friends with Aligraleph for six days, two of them on a really crazy trip, I could already say that this was typical of Aligraleph. He shouted the most obvious things out into the world, as if mere mortals would NEVER come up with them without his shouting.
The facts were obvious. Even a slow thinker like me got it. But what could you do about it? That was Aligraleph of Mochenstein for you.
He stomped through the world with his expensive clothes, his mafia face and the unshakable belief that six billion people would have to die unsuspectingly if he didn't regularly shout out his comments.
“All right, boys?” The Russian came out of the gas station, legs apart, looking like a real cowboy with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. Like a real and communist cowboy with sweatpants and a funny fur jacket.
“Sure,” Aligraleph said, and it sounded like he wasn't afraid at all. Not afraid of the long drive back. Not afraid of the trouble we would surely get into. Not afraid of being expelled from school, which was waiting for him in our hometown, and not afraid of the snotty boarding school that his idiot parents would guarantee to put him in when he returned.
The Russian climbed groaning between me and Aligraleph and stared up at the sky as well. He smoked his stinky cigarette for a while, then asked seriously:
“Are you really not in trouble? I mean, how old are you? Fifteen? What you're doing here is pretty dangerous. Do you know that?”
I nodded seriously as well, but Aligraleph just laughed and stretched out his hand towards the main road near the gas station.
“It's all good, man. Just give us a ride into town.”
The Russian just nodded and watched the passing cars for a while. Bright spots that disappeared again into the dark distance.
“Okay, I understand,” he said. ”It's your business. But I'll take you into town.”
I think if I ever wrote a book about my life, my journey, Aligraleph and the thing with my father, I would choose a different ending. I wouldn't have us driven back home in a rickety car, but rather ride horses into the sunset with a Johnny Cash song playing in the background.
Yes, that would be a successful exit. It would have style and be a bit like a movie or something.
But where on earth should I start with my book? With my fear of bacteria? With the broken window of our caravan? With the invention of everything, or was it actually just about the invention of my life?
I was still dizzy when the Russian pushed an ice-cold bottle of beer into my hands. I was only fifteen years old, but who cared? Certainly not the fur-jacket Russian.
“What are your names, anyway?” the Russian finally asked. ”First your names, then the deal with the train station will be done.”
“I'm John Kibbur and this here guy,” Aligraleph said quickly, pointing at me, ”is my faithful friend Gypsy Rodrick. I'm Jewish and he's a Gypsy. You know, a wandering people. It's totally normal for us, boys our age, to be on the road alone.”
I really was a 'gypsy boy', but how Aligraleph came up with this nonsense about John Kibbur and Jew was a real mystery to me.
“Sure,” the Russian laughed and tapped his crooked nose. ”And I'm the Federal President, you morons. But I don't care. Get in already. So to the municipal train station?”
Aligraleph nodded and climbed down from the car. “Correct. What do you think, Gypsy Rodrick?”
I shrugged my shoulders and stared at the bottle in my hands.
I didn't know what I wanted. Did I want to go back to my crazy mom who thought she was a fortune teller? Did I want to go back to school? Did I want to go back to my rickety bike? Back to the bright red trailer?
“I don't care,” I said. ”I don't even know how to start my story.”
And it was the truth. Nothing but the pure and crazy truth. Where the hell should I start my story again?
I was a lazy beneficiary of the state school system and a dyslexic by conviction when Aligraleph von Mochenstein came to my class.
He was already sixteen, suffered from a severe case of rebelliousness and had not only been given a lot of money up his ass by his parents, but also a really weird upbringing.
Aligraleph of Mochenstein was already an outsider as soon as he entered the classroom.
With his expensive clothes, upturned shirt collar and mobster-like face, he just didn't fit into our class.
I wouldn't say I was unpopular. I just didn't matter to my classmates, teachers, or myself. I dozed off at school, stared purposefully at the ground during breaks, and chewed so slowly during meals that you fell asleep from boredom just watching me.
But Aligraleph – oh man. He had a really weird name, which the teachers and my classmates found completely suspicious. I mean, if you weren't called Tom, Tim, Jan, Anna or Lisa in my class, you were immediately considered an oddball.
We had what felt like four Tims, three Lauras, two Annas and ten Jans or something. Even the teachers' first names were somehow all the same, although it was weird enough that teachers had first names at all.
I had always been the weird kid with my name Gyps, but now a brand-name guy with an “von” in his name came along and challenged my place as the struggling outsider.
Even in gym class, I was no longer the most hopeless student, because this Aligraleph was constantly handing in self-written excuses to the teacher. Sometimes he was sick, as if he had disappeared off the face of the earth, or smelled so strongly of cigarette smoke that our always-yelling gym teacher, Mr. Falke, sent him home with a nasty note.
I was quite good at art, but I got worse as soon as this Aligraleph sat next to me. He kept staring at my easel and tried to copy me completely obviously. I mean, how pathetic was that? Copying someone was okay, not everyone could be as motivated as our three nerdy Lauras, who really wanted to get out of the remedial class and into the normal education class. But copying one person?
It was sad, really sad. No matter what I slapped on the paper, this Aligraleph squinted his eyes as if he had to concentrate terribly, swayed slightly in his chair and had incredibly shaky fingers while painting exactly the same picture as me.
My art teacher didn't even notice this nonsense because she lived in her own world and you could even sleep in her class without her saying anything.
No teacher said anything about Aligraleph. He collected blue letters like a fanatic, occasionally fell asleep or simply didn't show up for an entire school day.
When he was there, he never had a school bag with him, and when he did participate in class, he spoke in a strangely high-brow manner. He apparently had a penchant for swearing.
When Ms. Gergel asked him to repeat the content of the last history topic, the weird weirdo launched into a ten-minute lecture that contained a damn lot of technical terms, but also a whole parade of the worst swearwords.
Ms. Gergel was actually a calm woman, but as soon as Aligraleph had closed his mouth again, she had become completely hysterical. She had screamed at him for the remaining twenty minutes of the lesson.
Man, my eardrums almost burst even in the back row. Everyone was terribly intimidated, except for this Aligraleph. He had lounged in his chair with his legs apart, kept running his fingers through his short, black hair and yawning bored.
Nobody wanted to talk to Aligraleph, nobody wanted the guy anywhere near them, and pretty much everyone agreed that the weirdo should leave. Nobody knew where he came from or why he ended up with us “learning disabled” people. He wasn't stupid, in fact he was surprisingly quick and clever when speaking.
I don't think I would ever have exchanged a single word with this weird guy, never have gotten involved in this mindless hunt, if Aligraleph hadn't suddenly written me a message during art class.
He just wrote it on the blank paper we were supposed to draw an oriental city on. His letters were huge and somehow... squiggly.
I think my mother would kiss my feet and give me more pocket money if I could write as neatly as Aligraleph. Provided she would even notice that I was there, through the veil of her fortune telling.
Aligraleph's writing was actually kind of nice. Nice in the sense of legible and pretty, even though the words he wrote on the paper were kind of ugly and quite direct.
Your fly is open, man. Or why do you think that stupid cunt next to you is giggling all the time?
At first I didn't understand anything, then I looked at one of the Annas sitting next to me and realized that she was actually giggling. Slowly, really very slowly, I looked down and saw that the idiot was absolutely right.
My pants were open and since I had already gone to pee two hours ago, pretty much everyone must have seen it. Except me, of course. Damn, it's a classic.
I quickly zipped up my pants, but the milk had already boiled over. The blonde Anna next to me burst out laughing. No joke, but I just wanted to cry.
After school, I had grabbed my jacket as quickly as possible, pulled my cap down low over my forehead and set off. A few of the class called stupid things after me, the girls were still giggling and I actually cried as I pushed my bike past the large shopping center.
The sight of this huge building just broke me. Where the ugly and much too expensive thing now stood, there had been many small shops before. Really pretty shops, where I, as a small child, had always gotten something for free. Above all, I missed the small bookstore. The owner hadn't been that old, had red hair and looked like a goblin because she always wore green clothes.
In my mind, the demolition men had simply torn down the goblin woman along with her bookshop. Poof! Gone. No more children's books, but expensive shoe shops and pharmacies where you had to take a number before you were served.
I was sure that things had only got really bad when the small shops were demolished. Since the glass case was there, the apartment blocks were newly renovated and “more expensive,” as my mother always put it.
Besides, more and more people were moving to our trailer park on the outskirts of town. Silver cars were always parked nearby and men with shoes and trousers that were much too elegant stomped over the dirt paths, carrying measuring devices.
I cried really hard and it was kind of embarrassing, but I felt like my head would burst otherwise.
Suddenly, something behind me rang. It sounded like the bell of a bicycle and I instinctively moved to the side without turning around.
I pulled my cap down over my eyes, hoping that they wouldn't see my tear-stained eyes.
However, the bicycle didn't overtake, but rode alongside me for a while.
“There's no reason to be ashamed, man. I cry sometimes, too. And take off that stupid cap, you've got really beautiful hair, man. Seriously, those curls are awesome.”
I knew the voice, even though I'd rather not have known it. Of all people, it was Aligraleph von Mochenstein riding next to me on his brand-new mountain bike.
If you believed the rumors that were circulating in the schoolyard, Aligraleph even had four different bikes and two mopeds. Besides, one of the Tims also claimed that he had once seen Aligraleph being driven to school on a Monday morning by a really expensive car with tinted windows.
I sniffed loudly, quickened my pace and tried to wipe the traces of tears from my cheeks with the sleeve of my jacket, but the idiot stayed close beside me.
This stupid idiot rode his damn bike next to me like we were friends. He even rang some melodies in a completely exaggerated way.
“I can even ring a Jewish wedding song. My parents are Jewish, you know? Do you want to hear it? The song is really cool...”
I demonstratively covered my ears and hoped that Aligraleph would soon lose interest in this game and finally turn off.
He definitely didn't live near me. Guys like Aligraleph lived in big houses with a view of the big lake and the adjacent forest, which was really beautiful in the fall. Or in such noble apartments in the banking district of the city center, but certainly not near the outskirts.
Guys like me howled with embarrassment and lived in the trailer park on the outskirts.
Aligraleph rode next to me for a while, then finally got off, pushed the bike nonchalantly and whistled a completely stupid tune.
My bike looked like a damn freak next to his bike.
“You're crying like a total sissy,” he finally said, and I just ignored him. Two more blocks, then along the bumpy road towards the river and I'd be home. I would then take off my shoes, hide in my small room and hope that school would be canceled tomorrow because of the fire.
“Your name is Gyps, isn't it? Gyps Wroskall. Do you really live in a trailer? I once heard that ugly Tim call you a gypsy. What's the matter? Can't you talk or what's going on?”
I walked faster, Aligraleph just got back on his bike and rode next to me.
“Come on, man. Or can't you really talk?”
“Which Tim do you mean?“ I finally asked, pushing my cap out of my eyes.
“What?” Aligraleph got off his bike again.
“Which Tim do you mean?” I asked, still looking tear-stained. ”We have several Tims in class.”
Aligraleph seemed to be thinking hard, because he furrowed his brow and asked annoyed: “How many Tims do we have in this crappy class?”
“A hundred, or so…”
I had no idea why I had let that out of the bag, but it hit like a bomb.
Aligraleph grinned, showing perfect teeth, and I liked him even less. My teeth weren't perfect, they were even a little weird. I think they were even a little crooked.
“You even have a sense of humor, man!” Aligraleph was still grinning. It wasn't a friendly grin, more of a suit-and-tie grin.
Like those guys who always drove up in their silver cars, looked at our trailers, and then disappeared shortly thereafter, only to show up again a few days later with their measuring devices to mark nearby trees and attach sensors.
These guys knew they were making us nervous, but they didn't even say hello, they just ignored us. Only once had a measuring guy noticed me. He had looked at me briefly and then offered me a cigarette when I stood next to him and asked what he was doing here.
Measuring, kid. I'm surveying this place to make it more beautiful. Sounds exciting, doesn't it? Do you want a cigarette? What? Haha, you're only fifteen? I started smoking when I was nine, kid...
I stared at the ground, trying to ignore the annoyance of Aligraleph. I managed quite well until the idiot rode over my right foot with his damn bike.
I started crying a second time from shock, pain and frustration. For the second time, Aligraleph saw everything and instead of apologizing, he just got off his bike and laughed.
“You cry really gay, gypsy. Are you gay? I'm thinking about becoming gay. My mother is a whore, man. I'd rather fuck a guy than a woman again. Have you ever actually fucked?”
I walked faster, bit my lower lip hard and tried to finally stop crying. My foot hurt like hell and Aligraleph laughed again.
“Now you're limping funny. Just get on your bike, man.”
I narrowed my eyes briefly, took a deep breath and finally turned to Aligraleph. That idiot on his stupid bike. The guy who ran over my foot and laughed.
I spat right in his face, right between his blue eyes, which one of the Lisas from class found really beautiful. I didn't care. I didn't care about Aligraleph from Mochenstein at all.
He could tell everyone that he had caught me crying. Everyone in the remedial class could know that the quiet and unfocused gypsy had cried.
Curly-haired Gyps was a crybaby. He was the kind of guy that only talked to girls when they had no one else to chat with.
I was a nobody and that was a good thing. Nobodies were not allowed to cry. Nobodies were not unpopular, they were just a gray mass that neither itched nor bothered anyone.
The only thing that distinguished me were my poor grades in math and the fact that I had a “transposed digits”.
I just didn't understand why, for example, when you said the number 56, you said the 6 first, and only then the 5.
“Hey, your bike is kind of scrap metal, but it's pretty cool. Do you want to swap?” Aligraleph was standing right in front of me with his luxury bike and kept pushing it into my path so that I couldn't just walk past him.
But I didn't like the game and I just kicked him angrily in the front wheel.
“Listen, you damn asshole!” I shouted angrily and tearfully. ”My dad is a Swedish astronaut and he'll crush you if you don't get lost! He steers a satellite in space and even named it after me!”