2025-07-10, 02:07 PM
Quarry lake couple
Jens stormed in and flung his backpack behind the large yucca palm in the seating area.
“Hey, what's the point!!”
"Retard...”
Jenny and Tatjana from the eighth grade had taken possession of the couch, sipping Kiba and discussing the latest world-shattering Facebook news, when they almost fell victim to Jens' dynamic appearance. It's unthinkable that the deep red juice would have spilled over their expensive miniskirts and smartphones if the bullet had hit them...
Jens didn't care about the outraged cackling for a second and came over to the pool table, where I was just pushing the balls around with Finn, Pasquale and Denis. The sixth graders managed to pot the balls rather by chance, but that didn't harm their zeal.
“Hey, Moritz!“ Jens came over. ‘You, I urgently need to have a chat with you... wow, you won't believe it, but it's impossible...’
”Hey, Jens! Okay, no problem. I'll just finish this round."
I sunk two balls and then lost my next shot so as not to show off in front of the boys.
“Great, when you need your social worker right away...“ Jens grinned ironically and continued his excited torrent of words.
”You won't believe what happened to me. It's a total scandal... Nasty... Now get on with it!“ he snapped at Denis, who was planning his next shot rather laboriously.
”Oh man, what a sacrifice...”
Denis missed the targeted ball and glared angrily at the man who was a head and a half taller than him.
“Piss off!”
“Jens, stay out of this. Get yourself a drink and find a quiet corner, I'll be right there and can devote myself fully to your cause,” I intervened again to prevent Denis' cue from hurting either of them.
“All right, man. Dude, I've been trying to catch you all day. You always disappeared during the breaks. It's best if we go to your office right away. So go for it and crush them...” Jens disappeared to the bar. Bar – that was the rustic wooden counter where students could buy soft drinks, juice cocktails, and sweets.
Looking after the school club four afternoons a week was one of my main tasks at the Willy-Brandt-Realschule. In addition to various leisure activities, it was mainly a place to 'hang out' and it was easy to get in touch with the students. Over time, trust developed, and it was not uncommon for me to be the point of contact for problems and concerns of all kinds, both academic and non-academic. Taking these seriously and discussing them was just the job I was paid for and enjoyed doing. Since I had a good relationship with many students as well as with the teaching staff, I was able to mediate in most cases of conflict and thus relieve the school day for everyone.
Pasquale, who was my teammate, managed to sink our last ball. After loudly celebrating and high-fiving me, he aimed for the black one. Missed...
The school club was a spacious room next to the boiler room. When I started the job a few years ago, I had completely renovated and redesigned it together with the students during the summer holidays. A donation run had raised a decent sum, which was used to purchase paints, sofa covers, cozy floor lamps and, of course, the pool table. Foosball, darts and a ping-pong table were already available. Worn seating from all over the community was saved from the bulky waste and brought in by tractor, which the grandpa of an older student provided. The same was true for a used refrigerator for the bar. The project contributed significantly to the students identifying with the room and enjoying spending time in it. They also realized that they could achieve something and make a difference through joint effort. This was also expressed by the visual highlight to the right of the bar. An Obama caricature with the graffiti slogan 'Yes we can!' Of course, you can smile about it now, but at the time the wave of euphoria was huge and had taken hold of us; the slogan in particular was just right.
Denis and Finn burst into gleeful cheers when Pasquale pocketed the black ball in the next round. The little half-Italian looked at me with consternation.
“Shit... revenge?!”
"Unfortunately, I can't make it, I promised Jens I'd come. Maybe later. You can do it on your own!”
I shook his hand again, then I strolled over to the bar, where Jens was flirting with Gül. The bar service was taken over by the graduating classes, which, surprisingly, was an extremely popular task. Perhaps it was because it also included control of the music system, so the 'barkeepers' could try their hand at being 'DJs'. Today, however, Gül seemed rather bored. There was hardly anything going on. With the hot summer weather, the young people were probably spending most of their time at the outdoor pool.
“Hey Gül, a glass of water, please.” I found anything else in this heat simply disgusting.
“Wow, you're a real tough guy,” Jens teased.
“Says the boy with the glass of cola!” I nudged him lightly.
“Hey, that's Captain Morgan in there! Right, Gül?“ Jens joked back.
Gül just shrugged and put my water glass down in front of me.
”Okay, but don't you dare throw up. Thanks, Gül!“
”So can we finally get started?“
”Well, you're burning to get to the office today, aren't you?”
My office was located at one end of the club room and, in addition to my desk and bookshelf, also housed another seating area. Many conversations required a more confidential atmosphere than was possible in the main room, despite the background music. A huge glass front ensured that I was still able to fulfill my supervisory duties. Jens sat down on the sofa with his back to the window, so that I could see the entire club behind him.
“So, Jens, go ahead!”
"I found out something that's really weird. Something has to be done about it immediately!”
“Hmm, I'm curious."
I had known Jens since he was a fifth grader and one of the youngest to take part in the renovation project, covered in paint from head to toe as he painted the walls. At first glance, his hyper and over-motivated nature seemed exhausting and had not only made him friends among teachers and classmates at school. However, I thought he was a thoroughly honest and affectionate guy and not least because I had stood by him through some of his crises together, a special, buddy-like relationship developed between us. Of course, this only applied to my role as a social worker; I strictly maintained the boundary with me as a private person. Anything else would have been highly unprofessional. Nevertheless, some referred to Jens as my 'biggest fan' or, somewhat more maliciously, as my 'stalker'.
"Yesterday I was with buddies from the rowing club at the quarry pond in Oberbirkenheim. Guess who I saw there?”
“No idea... Lady Gaga?“ Oberbirkenheim was about half an hour's drive away on the other side of the next largest city. I didn't know anyone there and had only been to the quarry pond once.
”Haha, you're so funny. No... Hartmann. But he wasn't alone...”
Jens made an elaborate pause, leaned forward to me and looked at me intently. I forced myself to hold his gaze. Mr. Hartmann was his German and social studies teacher.
“...but with some guy. They were necking and groping all the time... Disgusting! Hartmann is a lousy fag!” Jens gestured indignantly.
Jens' words pierced me. It was only with great effort that I was able to maintain my composure.
“Excuse me?“, I stammered, aghast.
”Hartmann is a dirty fag! They were lying on her blanket, groping each other and making out like a couple of lovers. Wow. You wouldn't have thought that either, would you? And the guy's a teacher, too!” Jens was getting worked up. At the same time, he was eyeing me, waiting for my reaction.
“Are you sure?” I knew Mr. Hartmann, and that didn't fit into the picture at all.
“One hundred percent. One hundred percent. He didn't recognize me because we were a bit behind them, but it was definitely him. He has that snake tattoo on his arm. It's so gay. Why would he do that? It's totally fucked up! Shit, ugh, I don't even want to know what they were doing when they ran off! Perverted fagots!”
Damn, that was intense. I had to pull myself together. Stay professional! Everything else is unimportant right now. I took a deep breath to calm my pulse.
"What do you think of that? You have to report this to Mirrleger immediately! He certainly doesn't suspect what a pervert is teaching him!”
“Okay, hold on Jens. You saw Mr. Hartmann with another man. The two were kissing and touching each other. Right? You conclude that your teacher is obviously gay and now you have a problem with that?“
”I don't have a problem,” Jens snapped, ”he has a problem! He should be locked up, that cocksucker!”
“Hey, now calm down, will you? It upsets you, and we can talk about it, but I don't like the swear words. I don't want to hear them. Okay?“
”Why? Everyone uses them! There are no other words for it! They're totally sick! Don't tell me you think that's okay?!”
I took another breath. Jens was pretty much pushing me against the wall.
“Jens, that's not the point at all. I can't judge what Mr. Hartmann does in his free time. It's not my place, it's his private business.”
“No, it's not!” Jens flashed at me and jumped up. “That asshole is a teacher here! At this school!”
“What exactly does that have to do with it?“
”Well, you know! They're all child molesters... I mean, they're totally into little boys, totally perverted... You know that! In any case, they're horny for young guys!“
”How do you know that? Who says so?”
“Everyone... my buddies... my father... or watch it on TV! The guy Hartmann was messing around with was a young one, too! A blond, campy pretty boy... maybe three years older than me... well, maybe five."
I had to swallow. Jens plopped back down on the couch and grimaced.
“Ugh, what if he wanks off to me and my buddies? I'll report it to Mr. Mirrleger, I swear! What do you think my father will do if I tell him!"
Jens was shaking with anger and rammed his fist into a sofa cushion. Mr. Mirrleger was, by the way, the headmaster of the Willy-Brandt-Realschule.
“Your father?“ I had had a few parent-teacher meetings with Chief Inspector Schulz. Meetings in the broadest sense, if you can call unyielding tirades of hatred and insults that.
”My old man hates fags!” He noticed my furrowed brows. ”Sorry, but it's true. He won't let him keep swearing at us. He'll kill him.”
A shiver ran down my spine despite the heat.
"Has Mr. Hartmann ever behaved incorrectly towards you or your buddies?”
“Why? No...“ Jens paused for the first time.
”Why do you think he's 'fag-hagging' you, but so far you haven't noticed anything, have you? Why should that change now just because you've found out he's probably gay?”
“Well... so far he's been one of the coolest teachers, that's for sure. So understanding and all, but he also teaches you stuff. We all actually respect him, even though he's not strict or anything.”
Jens hesitated. Slowly the conversation developed in a constructive direction. But then his face darkened again.
"Ugh, exactly, that's just his trick, that's how he gets us around... Now I get it. He's made us all gay... just on the cool side, he wants to make us all gay. Subconsciously! But now I'm not falling for it anymore!”
I looked past Jens through the glass. Jenny and Tatjana had disappeared. The three boys were still playing pool, and Adrian from their parallel class had joined them. Gül yawned and played on her cell phone. Obama grinned, as always. Everything was fine.
“Jens, I can reassure you. Being gay is not contagious, and you can't make someone gay. You either are, or you're not.“
”Pah, how do you want to be sure? It has to come from somewhere! Ask my father, he'll tell you something different...”
“Do you actually know anyone who's gay? Does your father know anyone? I mean, personally?“
Jens looked at me in amazement.
”No. Of course not! You should stay away from them, they contaminate society...“
”...says your father?"
I sighed. Jens stared at me defiantly.
“Man Moritz, what are you doing hanging out with the good social worker again... now come out of your 'everyone should love each other' role for a moment and agree with me that this is really not possible. Someone like that just can't be a teacher! He's a danger to us!"
I ventured a push forward. Hopefully it didn't backfire...
“Jens... I don't like to remind you, but do you remember seventh grade?“
He visibly slumped a bit. I had hit a very sore spot, but maybe that was just what was needed.
”Um... yeah, sure, I remember... Dude, what does that have to do with anything?”
“Hmm, think about it.“
”No way! That was totally different! You're not serious, are you?“
”Sure, there are many different labels you can be pigeonholed with. Does it really make a huge difference?“
Jens avoided my gaze.
”Well, I wasn't a psycho at all. The others just thought that. But Hartmann i-s-t gay, I've s-e-e-n it!
"Have you also seen that he's jerking off to you? That he's into you, his students? That he wants to turn you gay? Or are these prejudices because someone doesn't behave quite as normally as you know?”
I could see how Jens was struggling with himself and his memories. A good three years ago, his best friend moved away first, then the classes were restructured due to a new choice of subjects. Jens became an outsider and, because of his fidgety nature, soon a target. He started skipping school, which of course did not go unnoticed. His father raged and sometimes became violent. The mother didn't know what else to do and, following the advice of the class teacher, she took Jens to a child psychologist. The psychologist prescribed the appropriate medication for the maladjusted boy. It made him quieter, but not happier, and his behavior became even more of a mystery to his classmates, which fueled the bullying. Especially when a classmate discovered Jens' pills on a school trip. Since then, he was only 'the psychopath'. Jens started wearing only black clothes and a little later, scars began to appear on his forearms. For the others, this fit into their image.
Jens took a deep breath. The air in the office was stifling. He buried his head in his hands.
“Well... I don't know,“ he murmured some time later.
”Imagine how Mr. Hartmann will feel if you start a campaign against him now. Even though he has always been a proper and committed teacher here at the school. Just because you happened to notice that in his private life he is involved with another man...” The word ‘in love’ wouldn't come out of my mouth. I quietly added, “…erm, is together with another man.”
“Do you really think that they are just normally in love with each other?”
My stomach tightened. I suppressed the feeling. Jens didn't sound so confident anymore. He had openly asked the question.
“Hmm, normal? What is normal?“
”Well, like a guy and a girl...“
”Why is that normal?“
Jens stormed in and flung his backpack behind the large yucca palm in the seating area.
“Hey, what's the point!!”
"Retard...”
Jenny and Tatjana from the eighth grade had taken possession of the couch, sipping Kiba and discussing the latest world-shattering Facebook news, when they almost fell victim to Jens' dynamic appearance. It's unthinkable that the deep red juice would have spilled over their expensive miniskirts and smartphones if the bullet had hit them...
Jens didn't care about the outraged cackling for a second and came over to the pool table, where I was just pushing the balls around with Finn, Pasquale and Denis. The sixth graders managed to pot the balls rather by chance, but that didn't harm their zeal.
“Hey, Moritz!“ Jens came over. ‘You, I urgently need to have a chat with you... wow, you won't believe it, but it's impossible...’
”Hey, Jens! Okay, no problem. I'll just finish this round."
I sunk two balls and then lost my next shot so as not to show off in front of the boys.
“Great, when you need your social worker right away...“ Jens grinned ironically and continued his excited torrent of words.
”You won't believe what happened to me. It's a total scandal... Nasty... Now get on with it!“ he snapped at Denis, who was planning his next shot rather laboriously.
”Oh man, what a sacrifice...”
Denis missed the targeted ball and glared angrily at the man who was a head and a half taller than him.
“Piss off!”
“Jens, stay out of this. Get yourself a drink and find a quiet corner, I'll be right there and can devote myself fully to your cause,” I intervened again to prevent Denis' cue from hurting either of them.
“All right, man. Dude, I've been trying to catch you all day. You always disappeared during the breaks. It's best if we go to your office right away. So go for it and crush them...” Jens disappeared to the bar. Bar – that was the rustic wooden counter where students could buy soft drinks, juice cocktails, and sweets.
Looking after the school club four afternoons a week was one of my main tasks at the Willy-Brandt-Realschule. In addition to various leisure activities, it was mainly a place to 'hang out' and it was easy to get in touch with the students. Over time, trust developed, and it was not uncommon for me to be the point of contact for problems and concerns of all kinds, both academic and non-academic. Taking these seriously and discussing them was just the job I was paid for and enjoyed doing. Since I had a good relationship with many students as well as with the teaching staff, I was able to mediate in most cases of conflict and thus relieve the school day for everyone.
Pasquale, who was my teammate, managed to sink our last ball. After loudly celebrating and high-fiving me, he aimed for the black one. Missed...
The school club was a spacious room next to the boiler room. When I started the job a few years ago, I had completely renovated and redesigned it together with the students during the summer holidays. A donation run had raised a decent sum, which was used to purchase paints, sofa covers, cozy floor lamps and, of course, the pool table. Foosball, darts and a ping-pong table were already available. Worn seating from all over the community was saved from the bulky waste and brought in by tractor, which the grandpa of an older student provided. The same was true for a used refrigerator for the bar. The project contributed significantly to the students identifying with the room and enjoying spending time in it. They also realized that they could achieve something and make a difference through joint effort. This was also expressed by the visual highlight to the right of the bar. An Obama caricature with the graffiti slogan 'Yes we can!' Of course, you can smile about it now, but at the time the wave of euphoria was huge and had taken hold of us; the slogan in particular was just right.
Denis and Finn burst into gleeful cheers when Pasquale pocketed the black ball in the next round. The little half-Italian looked at me with consternation.
“Shit... revenge?!”
"Unfortunately, I can't make it, I promised Jens I'd come. Maybe later. You can do it on your own!”
I shook his hand again, then I strolled over to the bar, where Jens was flirting with Gül. The bar service was taken over by the graduating classes, which, surprisingly, was an extremely popular task. Perhaps it was because it also included control of the music system, so the 'barkeepers' could try their hand at being 'DJs'. Today, however, Gül seemed rather bored. There was hardly anything going on. With the hot summer weather, the young people were probably spending most of their time at the outdoor pool.
“Hey Gül, a glass of water, please.” I found anything else in this heat simply disgusting.
“Wow, you're a real tough guy,” Jens teased.
“Says the boy with the glass of cola!” I nudged him lightly.
“Hey, that's Captain Morgan in there! Right, Gül?“ Jens joked back.
Gül just shrugged and put my water glass down in front of me.
”Okay, but don't you dare throw up. Thanks, Gül!“
”So can we finally get started?“
”Well, you're burning to get to the office today, aren't you?”
My office was located at one end of the club room and, in addition to my desk and bookshelf, also housed another seating area. Many conversations required a more confidential atmosphere than was possible in the main room, despite the background music. A huge glass front ensured that I was still able to fulfill my supervisory duties. Jens sat down on the sofa with his back to the window, so that I could see the entire club behind him.
“So, Jens, go ahead!”
"I found out something that's really weird. Something has to be done about it immediately!”
“Hmm, I'm curious."
I had known Jens since he was a fifth grader and one of the youngest to take part in the renovation project, covered in paint from head to toe as he painted the walls. At first glance, his hyper and over-motivated nature seemed exhausting and had not only made him friends among teachers and classmates at school. However, I thought he was a thoroughly honest and affectionate guy and not least because I had stood by him through some of his crises together, a special, buddy-like relationship developed between us. Of course, this only applied to my role as a social worker; I strictly maintained the boundary with me as a private person. Anything else would have been highly unprofessional. Nevertheless, some referred to Jens as my 'biggest fan' or, somewhat more maliciously, as my 'stalker'.
"Yesterday I was with buddies from the rowing club at the quarry pond in Oberbirkenheim. Guess who I saw there?”
“No idea... Lady Gaga?“ Oberbirkenheim was about half an hour's drive away on the other side of the next largest city. I didn't know anyone there and had only been to the quarry pond once.
”Haha, you're so funny. No... Hartmann. But he wasn't alone...”
Jens made an elaborate pause, leaned forward to me and looked at me intently. I forced myself to hold his gaze. Mr. Hartmann was his German and social studies teacher.
“...but with some guy. They were necking and groping all the time... Disgusting! Hartmann is a lousy fag!” Jens gestured indignantly.
Jens' words pierced me. It was only with great effort that I was able to maintain my composure.
“Excuse me?“, I stammered, aghast.
”Hartmann is a dirty fag! They were lying on her blanket, groping each other and making out like a couple of lovers. Wow. You wouldn't have thought that either, would you? And the guy's a teacher, too!” Jens was getting worked up. At the same time, he was eyeing me, waiting for my reaction.
“Are you sure?” I knew Mr. Hartmann, and that didn't fit into the picture at all.
“One hundred percent. One hundred percent. He didn't recognize me because we were a bit behind them, but it was definitely him. He has that snake tattoo on his arm. It's so gay. Why would he do that? It's totally fucked up! Shit, ugh, I don't even want to know what they were doing when they ran off! Perverted fagots!”
Damn, that was intense. I had to pull myself together. Stay professional! Everything else is unimportant right now. I took a deep breath to calm my pulse.
"What do you think of that? You have to report this to Mirrleger immediately! He certainly doesn't suspect what a pervert is teaching him!”
“Okay, hold on Jens. You saw Mr. Hartmann with another man. The two were kissing and touching each other. Right? You conclude that your teacher is obviously gay and now you have a problem with that?“
”I don't have a problem,” Jens snapped, ”he has a problem! He should be locked up, that cocksucker!”
“Hey, now calm down, will you? It upsets you, and we can talk about it, but I don't like the swear words. I don't want to hear them. Okay?“
”Why? Everyone uses them! There are no other words for it! They're totally sick! Don't tell me you think that's okay?!”
I took another breath. Jens was pretty much pushing me against the wall.
“Jens, that's not the point at all. I can't judge what Mr. Hartmann does in his free time. It's not my place, it's his private business.”
“No, it's not!” Jens flashed at me and jumped up. “That asshole is a teacher here! At this school!”
“What exactly does that have to do with it?“
”Well, you know! They're all child molesters... I mean, they're totally into little boys, totally perverted... You know that! In any case, they're horny for young guys!“
”How do you know that? Who says so?”
“Everyone... my buddies... my father... or watch it on TV! The guy Hartmann was messing around with was a young one, too! A blond, campy pretty boy... maybe three years older than me... well, maybe five."
I had to swallow. Jens plopped back down on the couch and grimaced.
“Ugh, what if he wanks off to me and my buddies? I'll report it to Mr. Mirrleger, I swear! What do you think my father will do if I tell him!"
Jens was shaking with anger and rammed his fist into a sofa cushion. Mr. Mirrleger was, by the way, the headmaster of the Willy-Brandt-Realschule.
“Your father?“ I had had a few parent-teacher meetings with Chief Inspector Schulz. Meetings in the broadest sense, if you can call unyielding tirades of hatred and insults that.
”My old man hates fags!” He noticed my furrowed brows. ”Sorry, but it's true. He won't let him keep swearing at us. He'll kill him.”
A shiver ran down my spine despite the heat.
"Has Mr. Hartmann ever behaved incorrectly towards you or your buddies?”
“Why? No...“ Jens paused for the first time.
”Why do you think he's 'fag-hagging' you, but so far you haven't noticed anything, have you? Why should that change now just because you've found out he's probably gay?”
“Well... so far he's been one of the coolest teachers, that's for sure. So understanding and all, but he also teaches you stuff. We all actually respect him, even though he's not strict or anything.”
Jens hesitated. Slowly the conversation developed in a constructive direction. But then his face darkened again.
"Ugh, exactly, that's just his trick, that's how he gets us around... Now I get it. He's made us all gay... just on the cool side, he wants to make us all gay. Subconsciously! But now I'm not falling for it anymore!”
I looked past Jens through the glass. Jenny and Tatjana had disappeared. The three boys were still playing pool, and Adrian from their parallel class had joined them. Gül yawned and played on her cell phone. Obama grinned, as always. Everything was fine.
“Jens, I can reassure you. Being gay is not contagious, and you can't make someone gay. You either are, or you're not.“
”Pah, how do you want to be sure? It has to come from somewhere! Ask my father, he'll tell you something different...”
“Do you actually know anyone who's gay? Does your father know anyone? I mean, personally?“
Jens looked at me in amazement.
”No. Of course not! You should stay away from them, they contaminate society...“
”...says your father?"
I sighed. Jens stared at me defiantly.
“Man Moritz, what are you doing hanging out with the good social worker again... now come out of your 'everyone should love each other' role for a moment and agree with me that this is really not possible. Someone like that just can't be a teacher! He's a danger to us!"
I ventured a push forward. Hopefully it didn't backfire...
“Jens... I don't like to remind you, but do you remember seventh grade?“
He visibly slumped a bit. I had hit a very sore spot, but maybe that was just what was needed.
”Um... yeah, sure, I remember... Dude, what does that have to do with anything?”
“Hmm, think about it.“
”No way! That was totally different! You're not serious, are you?“
”Sure, there are many different labels you can be pigeonholed with. Does it really make a huge difference?“
Jens avoided my gaze.
”Well, I wasn't a psycho at all. The others just thought that. But Hartmann i-s-t gay, I've s-e-e-n it!
"Have you also seen that he's jerking off to you? That he's into you, his students? That he wants to turn you gay? Or are these prejudices because someone doesn't behave quite as normally as you know?”
I could see how Jens was struggling with himself and his memories. A good three years ago, his best friend moved away first, then the classes were restructured due to a new choice of subjects. Jens became an outsider and, because of his fidgety nature, soon a target. He started skipping school, which of course did not go unnoticed. His father raged and sometimes became violent. The mother didn't know what else to do and, following the advice of the class teacher, she took Jens to a child psychologist. The psychologist prescribed the appropriate medication for the maladjusted boy. It made him quieter, but not happier, and his behavior became even more of a mystery to his classmates, which fueled the bullying. Especially when a classmate discovered Jens' pills on a school trip. Since then, he was only 'the psychopath'. Jens started wearing only black clothes and a little later, scars began to appear on his forearms. For the others, this fit into their image.
Jens took a deep breath. The air in the office was stifling. He buried his head in his hands.
“Well... I don't know,“ he murmured some time later.
”Imagine how Mr. Hartmann will feel if you start a campaign against him now. Even though he has always been a proper and committed teacher here at the school. Just because you happened to notice that in his private life he is involved with another man...” The word ‘in love’ wouldn't come out of my mouth. I quietly added, “…erm, is together with another man.”
“Do you really think that they are just normally in love with each other?”
My stomach tightened. I suppressed the feeling. Jens didn't sound so confident anymore. He had openly asked the question.
“Hmm, normal? What is normal?“
”Well, like a guy and a girl...“
”Why is that normal?“