2025-07-10, 04:11 PM
It was the first day of school after the summer vacation, the first day of my last year at school. I was still really tired as I sat next to my best friend Jule at eight in the morning.
Jule was exactly one day older than me, so she would soon be 18. She had gorgeous auburn hair that she usually wore in a braid. She was a beautiful, slender, athletic girl. We lived on the same street and had been inseparable since kindergarten.
She was the only person in the world who knew I was gay. She always said she knew before I did. I wasn't a troll myself. I was athletic, even if I would have liked a little less on my stomach, was 5'11” tall, had short black hair and blue eyes.
The holidays were, as always, too short. I had been to the outdoor pool almost every day to watch the swimmers from the local swimming club.
I was longing for that very moment when the door swung open and Mr. Möller, our teacher, came in with a new student.
He looked like the younger, sportier brother of the singer from Jupiter Jones. He also had slightly longer brown hair. He had doe eyes that didn't look shy at all. He was bursting with self-confidence, I sensed that immediately. And that despite the fact that the clothes he was wearing weren't even third-hand.
“So guys, this is Ian. Do you want to introduce yourself or take a seat?” Mr. Möller asked. Ian remained standing, everyone stared at him. He briefly explained that he was half American and that he and his mother had moved to the town next to mine. He was already 18. At the end of his introduction, he laughed charmingly and said, ”Oh, and one more thing. By the way, I'm gay.”
I gasped – at least only Jule heard me through the ensuing chatter. She put her hand on my thigh.
My heart was racing and I had trouble concentrating. I was kind of angry. Why had he done that? Was he so hell-bent on being the center of attention? What an arrogant jerk!
My first stop during the break was the smoking area. I hadn't smoked in two weeks, but I bummed a cigarette and lit it while I sat on a wall. I inhaled deeply and coughed hard, but my nerves finally calmed down.
I sat between Florian and Jens, who were already talking shit about Ian. “Jan, don't you have an opinion about that?” Florian asked. The question was addressed to me. “I don't care,” I grumbled. “As long as he doesn't hit on me.” I withdrew from the further conversation.
When I re-entered the classroom at the end of the break, the girls were gathering around Ian. “Why are they still interested?” I wondered. When I even recognized Jule among the hens, I was in a really bad mood.
The bell rang and Mr. Blome entered the classroom. Jule quickly scurried to her seat, grabbed a small piece of paper, wrote something on it and pushed it over to me. The guy is really cute, it said. Do you think so? I wrote back. Of course!!! And he has English and P.E. like you! “Great,” I thought. I don't think I like him, I wrote. Oh nonsense, you are just afraid because he dares to say that he is gay. Actually, you like him, she wrote. I think he wants to be a bit too much in the center of attention and I don't like him, I scribbled. Jule looked at the note briefly, then smiled at me motherly and wrote, but you do! I watched the teacher at the blackboard and thought for a moment, then I wrote, you might be right. But I don't know if and how I should address him. I don't want him to broadcast it right away – look, Jan's gay!!! I pushed the note over to her, then looked up again and was startled to see Mr. Blome standing next to me.
He held out his hand and asked for the note. He used to read such notes with a grin in front of the class and publicly correct the mistakes.
The class was as quiet as a mouse. “You know it's forbidden to write notes, so hand them over,” he looked at me with his pale blue eyes. “This is private,” I replied. I had put both my forearms on the paper. “Hand it over, or you'll be expelled,” he threatened. ‘Fine,’ I said, standing up, ‘then I'll go outside.’ The class laughed, the teacher reached for the note, I held on to it. A scuffle broke out, I got the note back, put it in my mouth, chewed it and swallowed it. Mr. Blome exploded and threw me out on my ear.
I spent the double period outside the classroom. Unfortunately, I had my cell phone in my backpack and it was really boring.
Mr. Möller came down the hall once. “What's going on here?” he asked paternally. “Eating is forbidden,” I answered cheekily, and he shook his head as he continued on his way.
The rest of the school day was uneventful.
The delivery service had left my food on the doorstep, as it did every Thursday. I picked it up and went into the empty house. My parents were journalists at a major newspaper and they almost always worked. I sometimes saw them at weekends or late at night. There were times when they were away for weeks at a time. During that time, Jules' parents were my foster parents.
Thursdays were the worst days to meet them, because the editorial team met then.
I ate my meal alone in front of the TV.
In the afternoon I had arranged to meet Jule at the open-air pool. We watched the swimmers again. We had a favorite spot from which we could see the whole pool.
Jule had been holding back about Ian since morning. But I sensed that her head was boiling. “Come on,” I urged, “just say it.”
“You two would make a cute couple,” she said sheepishly.
I waved that off. “I'd make a cute couple with this guy,” I said, pointing discreetly at the young man pulling himself out of the water. He was well-trained and wore only a tight swimsuit that promised a lot. Jule rolled her eyes. “Maybe, but he's not into boys. He likes girls.” She got up, went over to Bernhard, her boyfriend, and kissed him. Grinning, she came back.
“Aren't you tired of always just watching? Don't you want to feel closeness too?” she asked. I shrugged my shoulders, squinting at the sun, which was in the wrong position. ‘I feel close to you.”
“Janni, I also mean sex, kissing, petting. Whatever.’ She sat down again and we enjoyed the view in silence.
“I want it all,” I said after a while, ‘but it's not that easy either. I couldn't just come out and say, ’By the way, I'm gay.‘ And I can't just go up to him and say, ’I'm gay too,' just because he's gay. Do you understand? I don't even know him, so how can I know if he's trustworthy? I can't.” Jule stroked my back comfortingly. “Well, then let's get to know him first.”
Getting to know each other went faster than expected. Jule and I had stayed in the swimming pool too long, so we just missed the last bus home. ‘Shit, now we have to walk,’ she moaned. I didn't feel like walking, but I didn't have any money for a taxi either. I tried to hitchhike when a car arrived.
Many cars just drove by. But suddenly one stopped. Ian was behind the wheel. “Do you want a ride?” he asked. Jule immediately jumped into the back seat of the car. I think it was a Peugeot.
“Where are you coming from?” I asked, hoping I didn't sound too insecure.
“From the city, I had hoped to be able to work as a pizza delivery boy, but nothing. I need a job,“ he complained. Jule thought for a moment in silence, while Ian told me that he needed his own car because his mother's belonged to him.
“My uncle has a delivery company,” Jule finally said. “Maybe they need someone.”
“Really, would you put me in touch with them? That would be great,” Ian's eyes sparkled with joy.
The ride didn't take too long, and eventually Ian dropped me off at my house. He insisted on driving Jule to her house, and we made fun of him by making him stop two houses later.
I waved goodbye to my friend and went into the house. My father was actually at home. He was sitting on the sofa, his feet on the coffee table, a sure sign that my mother was not there.
“Hi, where were you?” he asked. My father had just turned 40 and still looked very good. Of course, I had to say that because everyone always judged immediately, ‘he looks like the father.’ I sat down with him in front of the TV. He was watching a football highlights show. ‘Swimming,’ I replied. ‘With Juliane?’ he asked. I nodded. “I don't even know, is she your girlfriend?” my father asked. I shook my head. “She's cute, though,” he said, grinning. “Yes,” I replied, “but she's like my sister and I'm not a pervert.” He laughed and I just laughed along. “I was thinking of ordering a pizza, do you want one too?” he asked. I did.
So we sat there eating pizza and drinking beer while watching the sports show. Yes, my father actually had a crate of beer that he shared with me in a fatherly way. That evening was something new for me; I hadn't seen my father like that in a long time. And the beer was a first.
We went to bed late. I hadn't drunk as much as my father in a long time, but I couldn't handle too much anyway.
The next morning, I found it hard to get up. I just couldn't get going. I was still drinking my coffee when Jule was already ringing the doorbell. “Come on, come on, we'll miss the bus,” she urged me. We only just managed to see the bus's rear lights. We were too late to get out of our street.
Jule sulked a bit. “Sorry,” I said.
“Why were you so slow today? Great, Blome in the first hour,” she growled.
“I was drinking with my father last night. And watching football,” I replied. ‘Really? You never have alcohol in the house. What happened to the self-confessed teetotaler?’ she asked curiously. I was about to answer when a familiar car drove up.
Jule was exactly one day older than me, so she would soon be 18. She had gorgeous auburn hair that she usually wore in a braid. She was a beautiful, slender, athletic girl. We lived on the same street and had been inseparable since kindergarten.
She was the only person in the world who knew I was gay. She always said she knew before I did. I wasn't a troll myself. I was athletic, even if I would have liked a little less on my stomach, was 5'11” tall, had short black hair and blue eyes.
The holidays were, as always, too short. I had been to the outdoor pool almost every day to watch the swimmers from the local swimming club.
I was longing for that very moment when the door swung open and Mr. Möller, our teacher, came in with a new student.
He looked like the younger, sportier brother of the singer from Jupiter Jones. He also had slightly longer brown hair. He had doe eyes that didn't look shy at all. He was bursting with self-confidence, I sensed that immediately. And that despite the fact that the clothes he was wearing weren't even third-hand.
“So guys, this is Ian. Do you want to introduce yourself or take a seat?” Mr. Möller asked. Ian remained standing, everyone stared at him. He briefly explained that he was half American and that he and his mother had moved to the town next to mine. He was already 18. At the end of his introduction, he laughed charmingly and said, ”Oh, and one more thing. By the way, I'm gay.”
I gasped – at least only Jule heard me through the ensuing chatter. She put her hand on my thigh.
My heart was racing and I had trouble concentrating. I was kind of angry. Why had he done that? Was he so hell-bent on being the center of attention? What an arrogant jerk!
My first stop during the break was the smoking area. I hadn't smoked in two weeks, but I bummed a cigarette and lit it while I sat on a wall. I inhaled deeply and coughed hard, but my nerves finally calmed down.
I sat between Florian and Jens, who were already talking shit about Ian. “Jan, don't you have an opinion about that?” Florian asked. The question was addressed to me. “I don't care,” I grumbled. “As long as he doesn't hit on me.” I withdrew from the further conversation.
When I re-entered the classroom at the end of the break, the girls were gathering around Ian. “Why are they still interested?” I wondered. When I even recognized Jule among the hens, I was in a really bad mood.
The bell rang and Mr. Blome entered the classroom. Jule quickly scurried to her seat, grabbed a small piece of paper, wrote something on it and pushed it over to me. The guy is really cute, it said. Do you think so? I wrote back. Of course!!! And he has English and P.E. like you! “Great,” I thought. I don't think I like him, I wrote. Oh nonsense, you are just afraid because he dares to say that he is gay. Actually, you like him, she wrote. I think he wants to be a bit too much in the center of attention and I don't like him, I scribbled. Jule looked at the note briefly, then smiled at me motherly and wrote, but you do! I watched the teacher at the blackboard and thought for a moment, then I wrote, you might be right. But I don't know if and how I should address him. I don't want him to broadcast it right away – look, Jan's gay!!! I pushed the note over to her, then looked up again and was startled to see Mr. Blome standing next to me.
He held out his hand and asked for the note. He used to read such notes with a grin in front of the class and publicly correct the mistakes.
The class was as quiet as a mouse. “You know it's forbidden to write notes, so hand them over,” he looked at me with his pale blue eyes. “This is private,” I replied. I had put both my forearms on the paper. “Hand it over, or you'll be expelled,” he threatened. ‘Fine,’ I said, standing up, ‘then I'll go outside.’ The class laughed, the teacher reached for the note, I held on to it. A scuffle broke out, I got the note back, put it in my mouth, chewed it and swallowed it. Mr. Blome exploded and threw me out on my ear.
I spent the double period outside the classroom. Unfortunately, I had my cell phone in my backpack and it was really boring.
Mr. Möller came down the hall once. “What's going on here?” he asked paternally. “Eating is forbidden,” I answered cheekily, and he shook his head as he continued on his way.
The rest of the school day was uneventful.
The delivery service had left my food on the doorstep, as it did every Thursday. I picked it up and went into the empty house. My parents were journalists at a major newspaper and they almost always worked. I sometimes saw them at weekends or late at night. There were times when they were away for weeks at a time. During that time, Jules' parents were my foster parents.
Thursdays were the worst days to meet them, because the editorial team met then.
I ate my meal alone in front of the TV.
In the afternoon I had arranged to meet Jule at the open-air pool. We watched the swimmers again. We had a favorite spot from which we could see the whole pool.
Jule had been holding back about Ian since morning. But I sensed that her head was boiling. “Come on,” I urged, “just say it.”
“You two would make a cute couple,” she said sheepishly.
I waved that off. “I'd make a cute couple with this guy,” I said, pointing discreetly at the young man pulling himself out of the water. He was well-trained and wore only a tight swimsuit that promised a lot. Jule rolled her eyes. “Maybe, but he's not into boys. He likes girls.” She got up, went over to Bernhard, her boyfriend, and kissed him. Grinning, she came back.
“Aren't you tired of always just watching? Don't you want to feel closeness too?” she asked. I shrugged my shoulders, squinting at the sun, which was in the wrong position. ‘I feel close to you.”
“Janni, I also mean sex, kissing, petting. Whatever.’ She sat down again and we enjoyed the view in silence.
“I want it all,” I said after a while, ‘but it's not that easy either. I couldn't just come out and say, ’By the way, I'm gay.‘ And I can't just go up to him and say, ’I'm gay too,' just because he's gay. Do you understand? I don't even know him, so how can I know if he's trustworthy? I can't.” Jule stroked my back comfortingly. “Well, then let's get to know him first.”
Getting to know each other went faster than expected. Jule and I had stayed in the swimming pool too long, so we just missed the last bus home. ‘Shit, now we have to walk,’ she moaned. I didn't feel like walking, but I didn't have any money for a taxi either. I tried to hitchhike when a car arrived.
Many cars just drove by. But suddenly one stopped. Ian was behind the wheel. “Do you want a ride?” he asked. Jule immediately jumped into the back seat of the car. I think it was a Peugeot.
“Where are you coming from?” I asked, hoping I didn't sound too insecure.
“From the city, I had hoped to be able to work as a pizza delivery boy, but nothing. I need a job,“ he complained. Jule thought for a moment in silence, while Ian told me that he needed his own car because his mother's belonged to him.
“My uncle has a delivery company,” Jule finally said. “Maybe they need someone.”
“Really, would you put me in touch with them? That would be great,” Ian's eyes sparkled with joy.
The ride didn't take too long, and eventually Ian dropped me off at my house. He insisted on driving Jule to her house, and we made fun of him by making him stop two houses later.
I waved goodbye to my friend and went into the house. My father was actually at home. He was sitting on the sofa, his feet on the coffee table, a sure sign that my mother was not there.
“Hi, where were you?” he asked. My father had just turned 40 and still looked very good. Of course, I had to say that because everyone always judged immediately, ‘he looks like the father.’ I sat down with him in front of the TV. He was watching a football highlights show. ‘Swimming,’ I replied. ‘With Juliane?’ he asked. I nodded. “I don't even know, is she your girlfriend?” my father asked. I shook my head. “She's cute, though,” he said, grinning. “Yes,” I replied, “but she's like my sister and I'm not a pervert.” He laughed and I just laughed along. “I was thinking of ordering a pizza, do you want one too?” he asked. I did.
So we sat there eating pizza and drinking beer while watching the sports show. Yes, my father actually had a crate of beer that he shared with me in a fatherly way. That evening was something new for me; I hadn't seen my father like that in a long time. And the beer was a first.
We went to bed late. I hadn't drunk as much as my father in a long time, but I couldn't handle too much anyway.
The next morning, I found it hard to get up. I just couldn't get going. I was still drinking my coffee when Jule was already ringing the doorbell. “Come on, come on, we'll miss the bus,” she urged me. We only just managed to see the bus's rear lights. We were too late to get out of our street.
Jule sulked a bit. “Sorry,” I said.
“Why were you so slow today? Great, Blome in the first hour,” she growled.
“I was drinking with my father last night. And watching football,” I replied. ‘Really? You never have alcohol in the house. What happened to the self-confessed teetotaler?’ she asked curiously. I was about to answer when a familiar car drove up.