07-10-2025, 06:28 PM
1
I felt like the biggest idiot when I stood next to Ms. Hellmann between the teacher's desk and the blackboard on September 30, 2013, and was stared at by 25 curious yet somehow disinterested pairs of eyes. My backpack was hanging over my shoulder on a buckle when my future class teacher spoke: “We have a new student in our class 10a as of today. Miguel... Would you like to briefly introduce yourself to the class?”
“Yes... Um, hello.” As always when I was nervous, I ran my hand through my shoulder-length hair and stammered on, ”My name is Miguel Garcia, I'm actually from Freiburg and have been living in Münsingen since Saturday.”
“Oooh, sexy,“ purred a dressed-up chick from the second row on the left, although I couldn't really tell whether she was being serious or mocking.
“It was sooo clear that you'd get horny again at the sight of a wog, Laura,” someone from the back row blasphemed. Some people in the rows of my new classmates chuckled nastily.
The sharp “Nils!” that Ms. Hellmann called out went in one ear and out the other for me. When my eyes met those of the troublemaker at the same moment, it hurt twice as much.
Maybe it's best if, before I continue writing, I tell you readers a little more about myself than I had done in front of the class As you have just read, my name is Miguel Garcia. I was born and raised in Freiburg im Breisgau. But now, at the age of 16 and shortly after starting my 10th year at school, my father was transferred for work reasons and I had no choice but to move with my parents. To a small town in the Swabian Alb called Münsingen This decision really hurt me. Because I was deeply rooted in Freiburg. I played soccer there, had a fantastic circle of friends and a cosmopolitan school class where I felt comfortable. All hopeful prerequisites for someone like me, who had only recently admitted to himself that he was homosexual and was just gathering the courage to come out.
And now, after being in my new class for less than three minutes, I was already being called a wog, and I had a painful premonition that from today everything would be different. In my old class in Freiburg, there were a few different ethnic groups represented two dark-skinned, a girl with Korean roots, a Turk and an Albanian. But when I let my eyes wander through the school benches here in Münsingen, I realized that I, as the son of Spanish parents, was apparently the greatest exotic. I had black hair, a southern European brown skin and black-brown eyes
For people like this guy, that was probably reason enough to insult me. Just one look at this guy was enough to give me more than a hint as to what kind of person he was. He was wearing a hoodie with the word 'Consdaple' on the chest, a brand that I knew was only worn by right-wing extremists He also had a martial haircut with short-cropped temples, while the blonde top hair was styled into a side parting. But what disturbed me most was when Nils grinned challengingly at me with his hazel eyes, he was so sweet No coarse thug's face or a chunky, pumped-up figure, but a soft, pleasantly cheeky face and a rather sporty, graceful build. I know it's ridiculous to judge people by that. But it was precisely this fact that made the hostility particularly difficult for me to bear.
It happened as it had to happen. All the seats in the class were taken except for one. In the back row, on the right, directly by the window, there was still a seat available. Of course, next to Nils.
Ms. Hellmann pointed to the empty chair: “Miguel, I suggest you take a seat right away and get directly involved in the lesson.”
“Okay.”
“But I don't want that dago sitting next to me,“ grumbled Nils as I approached him.
“Nils! That's enough! One more word and you're going to the principal!” Frau Hellmann shouted at him, which was acknowledged with a smug smile from Nils.
I now felt anything but comfortable in my own skin and wondered if Nils was perhaps just part of a Nazi clique that was making trouble at school and could be dangerous to me. Nevertheless, I quickly decided not to be intimidated by this creep. Nils wrinkled his nose as if I smelled when I sat down next to him. In response, I pushed his backpack, which was half on my side under the bench, with my foot to the side and commented on the act with the words: “Make room, Nazi.”
Nils and I exchanged a bitter look
The rest of the day and my first week in Münsingen were so-so. On the plus side, the curriculum was the same as in Freiburg, so it wasn't too difficult for me to get settled. Besides, my fear that there might be a neo-Nazi problem here was not confirmed Nils was the only openly right-wing radical here at school and an outsider. I found it strange that his right-wing slogans and his penchant for abstruse conspiracy theories were dismissed in class as rather endearing craziness. The general attitude of my new classmates turned out to be rather narrow-minded and bourgeois, and Nils wasn't even unpopular Meanwhile, I hardly made any contacts. Among the boys, there was mostly a provincial macho attitude, which I couldn't relate to anyway. That's why I mostly talked to a few of the girls I got along with better. It was obvious that one or the other of them wanted to get close to me.
Probably I would come across as a bit of a jerk over time if I had to keep them off my back. But I would have to accept that. Because of the latent homophobia that was everywhere, I quickly realized that I would not come out here in Münsingen The knowledge that there was no end in sight to the game of hide and seek that I had always hated hurt, but I didn't want to get myself killed either. And it wasn't even a year until the cards would be reshuffled after I graduated from secondary school, I kept telling myself.
During the first week, I was able to assert myself to some extent against the repulsive boy sitting next to me Our quarrels soon became the number one entertainment program in the class. And by the end of the week at the latest, I had even started to enjoy giving the neo-Nazi a counter and teasing him when the opportunity arose. I believed that I had developed a certain sense for Nils and had gained the impression that, despite his terrible attitude, he was not prone to violence
The turning point came on Tuesday of my second week in Münsingen. In the afternoon, geography was on the agenda. As usual, concentration was not as high at noon as it was in the morning Mr. Thoma held a monotonous monologue at the front of the class about the urbanization of the countryside and its impact on the environment, and he didn't let the growing murmur in the class disturb him. I myself had my arms folded on the table and my chin resting on my left forearm. In this way, I dozed off to the monotonous voice of our teacher.
My eyes were only open a tiny crack, and from the outside it might have looked as if I was asleep. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nils reach for my pencil case and pull it towards him. Immediately I was wide awake again. I also reached for my pencil case, and in the next moment there was a tug-of-war for it, while all the eyes of my classmates were focused on Nils and me.
“Give me that thing, you lousy pig,” I swore, while I tried to snatch my pencil case from Nils Nils also tugged at my pencil case with his left hand and tried to get the upper hand over it. In his right hand he held his Edding, with which he probably wanted to smear it and now, during the fight, drew black dots and lines on my hand: “Have it your way, Turk.”
“I'm not a Turk, I'm Spanish!”
“That's enough, Mr. Waldorf and Mr. Statler!“ bellowed Mr. Thoma, who had interrupted his mesmerizing speech.
“Who are Waldorf and Statler?” asked Nils, while he actually let go of my pencil case.
“They're the two old guys from the Muppet Show, idiot,” I lectured him.
Suddenly Nils slapped me – probably because of the last word. It was only a flick of the wrist and hardly hurt, but for a moment I felt so humiliated and provoked that I pushed him against the shoulder with both hands. Hard enough that Nils tipped over onto the floor together with his chair
“Hey, Turk! You...” Nils wanted to start swearing while he was getting up, but Mr. Thoma had come to our bench with a bright red head: ‘Shut up, Nils!’ I chuckled contentedly to myself. ‘And you too, Miguel! I'm getting really tired of you guys!’ The whole class was now as quiet as a mouse. Nobody would have thought that Thoma, who is a chronic sleepyhead, had the temperament to do this, and he wasn't done with us yet: “I have a special task for you two. You will work together to develop a presentation on models of sustainable urban development and present it to us on Thursday.” - Dramatic pause - “And I advise you to do it well, otherwise there will be serious consequences,” he added threateningly.
Nils and I looked first at Mr. Thoma and then at each other in horror. But all the whining and complaining didn't help. Me and the Nazi were in the same boat for the next two days.
“What a fool, Thoma,” grumbled Nils, after the lesson and thus also the afternoon school was over for the day. ‘You've really got us into this.”
“YOU got us into this with your shit in your head,’ I corrected him. ‘What should we do now?”
“Everyone does a little something and on Thursday morning we bring it together,’ suggested Nils.
“That'll never work. I'm afraid we really have to sit down and work something out together.”
Nils looked at me as if he wanted to eat me, but I stood by my idea: “Do you think I want to spend my free time with you? The faster we start, the faster we'll be done. Best right now.
“And where are we going?” Nils asked.
That was a good question. At our place, everything was still very chaotic because we were still in the throes of the moving stress. And knowing Nils, he would tell everyone the next day how anti-social the wogs were. Besides, I didn't feel like dragging an obvious neo-Nazi to my parents' house
“Your place,“ I just said.
“Forget it.”
“Our apartment is still a construction site and the internet is not set up yet,” I lied, but the argument was convincing. Nils made an outrageous sweet face: “Well then, let's do it.”
We left school on foot and walked in silence for the first few minutes, side by side. Then Nils murmured, “Let's get something to eat first.”
I was a bit surprised, because for me it was usual to have something to eat at home when I came home from school. Instead of saying something, I just said, “Döner maybe?” more out of habit and because there was a kebab shop in sight where two other students from our class were just going in
Instead of the expected insult, Nils explained precociously: “Not on your life. Özer jerks his sperm into the kebab sauce. The health department found that out recently.”
“Really?” I asked, not hearing the irony in Nils' voice.
“Yes. But because he's Turkish, they can't do anything.”
“Aha.”
Nils led me through several side streets to the edge of an adjacent industrial area, where there was a shabby chip shop. While I was eating chips that tasted of rancid fat and a curry sausage that had been drowned in sauce, the question of Nils' infamous health department was on the tip of my tongue After dinner, we had to walk for almost a quarter of an hour. Mainly because the silence between us was becoming almost ridiculous, I tried to start a conversation.
“Do you actually do sports?” I asked, because his figure suggested that he did
“Not at the moment. I was still wrestling until a year ago. My father and my brother are also involved. But the fighting stuff is not really my thing.”
“And you're not interested in any other sports either?”
“I used to play handball. But nowadays you can hardly join a club anymore. They are all being infiltrated by foreigners so that they can take them over. And you?
“I played soccer in Freiburg. I actually plan to infiltrate TSG Münsingen next week. Let's see if I can take it over in the near future.”
“The way they're scrambling around at the moment, it can only get better after that.”
I glanced over at Nils, who was grinning to himself, and I could hardly believe it. Had he really just made a joke that wasn't at my expense?
But the small glimpse of sympathy that this brief conversation had awakened was soon put to a hard test Nils led me to a semi-detached house that looked nice from the outside, although the kitschy front garden with the garden gnomes gave it a somewhat stuffy impression. He unlocked the front door and as we stepped through the hallway, a rough female voice said, “Is that you, Nils?”
“Yes.”
A moment later, a small, plump woman, whose face looked a bit swollen, came out of a door that I think led to the bathroom. She looked at me as if I had come from a different planet.
“What have you brought here?” she asked with contempt.
“This is Miguel. We have to do a geography assignment together.”
“And you let him push you around?” She shook her head in disbelief. ”You wait years for me to finally bring a girl home, and you can't think of anything better than to bring a creep like that into our house? Thanks a lot. Because of you and the mess you've dragged me into, I'll have to clean up later.”
“Mom...”
“Take your brother as an example. He's made of a completely different stuff!”
“Oh, shut up,” Nils said to his mother, annoyed. He pushed me roughly past her down the hall to his room, while I was far too shocked to react at all.
“Just wait until your father comes home!” she shouted after us, and Nils made a dismissive gesture, similar to a middle finger, only without a raised middle finger, which touched me in a bizarre way
When Nils pushed me through the door into his room, I felt relieved for a second. It was a kind of retreat from his mother. But the next shock was not long in coming. The black, red and gold flag with the federal eagle in the middle, which hung on the opposite wall from the door, was still within reason But the imperial war flag over Nils' bed, which dominated the room, did it for me. A strange oppressive feeling came over me when Nils closed the door behind us. It was as if my mind couldn't breathe.
“Welcome to the Wolf's Lair,” I murmured dejectedly, and Nils grinned maliciously at my reaction.
His eyes followed my gaze to the imperial war flag: “My brother gave it to me last year for Christmas.”
“I feel sorry for you.”
Slowly but surely, I began to understand the source of the venomous thoughts that Nils carried with him. Nils seemed to have noticed that there was neither sarcasm nor malice in my words. His grin disappeared from his face, as if I had hit a sore spot.
“I'd say we start,” he said, and booted up his PC.
What happened over the next two or three hours was even more confusing to me than anything I had experienced with Nils before I guess if we had nagged each other and made each other's lives difficult, I would have coped well with it. But that was not the case. We sat next to each other, knee to knee at Nils' desk in front of the PC and researched our topic in a concentrated and somehow harmonious way, using various examples from around the world that we could find. I had just opened my geography book on the subject and was reading a paragraph to compare a Wikipedia find with the information in our teaching material. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nils turn his head to me and smile. When I sought eye contact, he quickly turned his face away and became serious again
Without letting ourselves be distracted from the topic of the presentation, I noticed again and again how Nils looked at me when he thought I wouldn't notice and repeatedly avoided my gaze when I looked at him. Over time, I also managed to catch his eye. We talked about district heating in Copenhagen or Greenovate Boston and exchanged so much humor with our eyes that I wondered if we were flirting. Time flew by surprisingly fast. Although I had secretly always expected Nils' parents to storm the room at some point to drag me out and put me on the street, there were no incidents.
It was already a little after seven. I was tired, my vision was blurring, and from hours of concentrated work, my brain felt fuzzy: “I think I'll go home slowly. We can do the rest tomorrow. There's not much left.”
“Okay.”
Nils looked at me dreamily and was obviously somewhere else mentally, too. We were both sitting close together, leaning on the table with our elbows on the table top and resting our heads wearily on our fists. Our faces were only a little distance apart in this position and suddenly it happened. Nils' lips were on mine. I opened my eyes wide and reflexively pulled my head back Nils did the same and the shock almost knocked him off his chair. The whole thing came out of nowhere, so at first I didn't even know whether the initiative had come from me or from Nils. But when I saw Nils's shamefaced eyes, I knew.
“Dude, what was that?” I snapped at him, regretting the tone of my voice the next moment.
“You... It was an accident. I slipped.”
“Um... Okayyyy,” I said, letting Nils know from the intonation that I didn't believe a word of it.
Nils was almost begging, ”Please, Miguel. Don't tell anyone.
Somehow I felt an urge to kick and bleed the Nazi. Instead, I just said, “I'll forget what just happened,” and stood up.
“Thanks.”
I had already opened the door to the hallway and was standing in the doorframe when I turned around again. From the living room, diagonally opposite, the TV program could be heard muffled
“And if you want to talk about it, you can trust me. Think about it.”
Then I went out and left Nils with this offer in his room. Not a second later, a harsh male voice shouted from the living room, probably as an unwelcome response to my words to Nils: “You'd better get the hell out of my house and leave my son alone, you disgusting wog!
Suddenly I was torn out of my pathetic mood. My diaphragm cramped in shock as I thought I heard someone get up abruptly in the living room and I rushed to the front door in a panic. With a racing heart, I took one more distraught look at this horror house with the well-kept front garden from the street. On the way home, I was close to tears
That night, it took me a long time to fall asleep. My thoughts revolved around racism, more inhuman than I had ever experienced it before, around the Nazi flags under the Christmas tree, Nils' smile, which was enchanting when there was no mockery in it, and the softness of his lips
“Who are you really, Nils?” I murmured half asleep in the middle of the night. Eventually I fell asleep.
The next day I went to school feeling queasy. I hadn't slept well and was jittery. Yesterday I had got to know an almost lovable side of Nils, but I didn't quite trust him I thought it likely that he would revert to his obnoxious behavior in the presence of our class. What if Nils were to twist the facts and claim in class that I had tried to kiss him? Some would certainly believe him, if only for the sensationalism of it. And if I were to say that it had happened the other way around, I would have made a fool of myself. No one would have believed Nils capable of such a thing...
I was racking my brain with such thoughts as I entered the classroom shortly before the start of class. As every morning at this time, the atmosphere was chaotic. There was arguing, laughing, homework being scribbled down in a rush, and talking all at once For once, I was relieved that most of my new classmates ignored me, as they usually did. Only Sophie, who I had the feeling wanted to get close to me and with whom I felt on the same wavelength, called out a cheerful “Hello Miguel”. I threw her a smile that was supposed to look as nice as neutral.
Nils was already there. He sat silently in his seat, his eyes fixed on me as I came through the door and walked towards him. This morning, for once, Nils wasn't wearing a shirt associated with right-wing ideology. He was wearing a gray sweater with no brand visible. The eyes that looked at me seemed bleary-eyed and exhausted. I saw at first glance that no adversity threatened me from this side today.
“Hey,” we both said almost simultaneously as a greeting when I sat down next to Nils.
While I took my books for the first hour out of my backpack and put them on the table, Nils looked furtively over at me, as if something was on his mind and he didn't dare to address it.
“Did your parents give you any trouble yesterday because of me?“ I asked, mainly to say something at all.
“No, it's fine,” was Nils's answer, which I didn't believe.
“Good.”
Another awkward silence between us, which didn't fit at all with the general mood in the class that morning. It was a small relief when Ms. Hellmann entered the classroom and started the lesson. Our classmates were probably waiting for Nils and me to start our daily arguments and exchange poison arrows. We had always been good at these showpieces up to that point, but today was different. There was something of a hangover mood between us. I didn't know how to deal with Nils and he was inscrutable in his taciturnity, it was impossible to see what was going on in his head.
When the big break came, I trotted alone into the schoolyard. The smell of the new still clung to me and my classmates still didn't make it easy for me to fit in. Wistfully, I looked at the little groups standing together chatting or kicking a ball around on the slightly raised concrete area
“Hey Miguel,” someone said cheerfully, while I wallowed in my self-pity and someone pinched my earlobe from behind. I turned and didn't see anything at first But when I turned my head in the other direction, there was Sophie, who had tried to hide behind my back and was now smiling sweetly at me. The smile immediately infected me and I was grateful to her for pulling me out of my loneliness.
“I hope I'm not disturbing you while you're melancholizing?” she joked, because my posture had probably given me away.
“No. I just finished it.”
“Then I'm relieved.” An embarrassed silence, because nobody really knew what to talk about. ‘And have you settled in a bit by now?”
“Not really yet,’ I admitted. ”The people here seem more reserved to me than in Freiburg.”
“Oh, it will be fine. You just have to get to know them properly.” - Another one of Sophie's open-hearted laughs that made her even more likeable.
“Well, hopefully.”
“You know what, Miguel? I'll give you a tour of Münsingen. The most beautiful places, the nicest people and the most exciting sights in one afternoon. What do you say?”
Sophie had finally managed to make me laugh with her way of laughing: “I can't say no to an offer like that. And when would you like to show me around the city?”
“Right after school today?”
“That sounds tempting, but I already have another date this afternoon.”
I couldn't help but grin when I saw Sophie's jaw drop.
For an explanation, I looked at Nils, who was sitting alone on a step near the table tennis tables, from where he had been watching Sophie and me all the time, conspicuously inconspicuously, and now, when we looked, quickly turned his head away: “Nils and I didn't finish our punishment work yesterday. We have to go back to it today.
“Oh dear,” Sophie regretted. ‘With the Nazi, of all people.”
“I'll be fine with that,’ I stated. ‘He'd better make sure that he's healthy enough later so that we can work on the presentation,’ I added, because it smelled like trouble for Nils. A group of Turks from our parallel class and from the ninth grade had gathered not far from him, listening to gangsta rap on a smartphone, and now and then Nils got dirty looks.
“You'd like that, so you'd have time for me this afternoon,” Sophie laughed. “But don't get your hopes up. They'll leave Nils alone.”
“Are you so sure?”
“You don't know what his brother is like, do you?”
“Tell me.”
Sophie took a breath: “Well. His brother Torsten – I think he's 19 or 20 now – is a really dangerous fascist. He's also in one of those fraternities or whatever they call it And when Nils gets someone in trouble, his brother and his friends come to avenge him. That's when there's nothing left to laugh about,“ she explained to me bitterly and sarcastically.
”So another one of those guys,” I muttered, but Sophie put me in my place
“You can't compare Nils with Torsten.” She paused to consider how best to explain it. ”Believe it or not, I've known Nils since kindergarten. Nils has a good, sensitive side and he can be pretty nice. But he shows that side less and less... Have you met his parents yet?
I nodded with bitter memories.
“They met as NPD officials and are up to their necks in the brown swamp. What will become of someone like Nils if he is exposed to such Nazi-thought garbage from morning to night for a lifetime? And every summer vacation, when we have a good time, he is sent to the Young Nationalists' vacation camp for the necessary brainwashing."
I could have smirked at how Sophie had worked herself up more and more from word to word if her sentences hadn't been so disturbing. But it was clear that she still cared about Nils
“And this Torsten... Does he still live with his parents?” I wanted to know.
“No. As far as I know, he moved to Blaubeuren a few months ago.”
When we sat down at our table again after the big break, Nils gave me a huffy look: ”Have you been talking shit about me to Sophie?”
“Sophie said that you also had a nice side. Crazy, right?”
“Hmh.”
Short pause.
“What about it, Nils? Do we continue with the presentation at noon?”
“We have to.”
“But believe me on one thing: I'm not going home with you again. Today we're going to my place.”
For a second or two, Nils's look, which had been ridiculously defiant (jealous?!) until then, reflected a sense of shame that gave me hope: “If you think so...”
After we had finished school at 1 p.m., Nils and I actually made our way to my house together. Nils was at least not quite as stubborn as he had been that morning, but he still didn't seem comfortable with himself.
“Let's get something to eat,” he asked shortly after we left the school grounds.
“I sent my mom a message that I was bringing someone. She'll cook a little more now.”
“I see. Okay.”
It took an effort not to laugh when I saw Nils's almost desperate look: “Don't worry. Mom won't poison the German boy. I only ordered a dash of laxative for your portion, but that's it.”
“Depp,” Nils grumbled, but he couldn't suppress his grin.
Once again, we walked along Hauff-Straße in silence for several minutes, until Nils broke it: ”Um... Miguel...”
“Yes?”
“Thanks for not telling anyone about the... thing... from yesterday.”
“Don't mention it.
“It really was just an accident. You don't have to think I'm a homo.”
“Man, Nils. You don't have to justify yourself to me. Even if it was, it wouldn't be something I'd have a problem with.”
Nils shot me a baffled look that was as brief as it was telling. Then he saw that he could change the subject: “Have you actually got your internet working yet?”
“I lied to you about it yesterday,” I said dryly.
“I thought so.”
Now Nils was facing a real test. Dinner with the Spaniards. Because of the stress of the move, my father also had vacation this week and of course my parents had waited for me for lunch. And now that my mother knew that I was bringing a guest, she was ambitious She had made a large pan full of an Andalusian chicken paella variant, which was our family's favorite dish. And for someone like Nils, who, thanks to his upbringing, didn't trust any food more exotic than a gypsy schnitzel, this meal in the company of us 'blackheads' was a challenge
Luckily, Nils was dressed in civilian clothes that day, with a gray sweater and New Balance sneakers, and in this combination, his haircut could also pass as an unsuccessful undercut. It also turned out to be a lucky coincidence that when I had grumbled about him to my parents during the last few days, I had never used the name 'Nils', but had always spoken disparagingly of 'the Nazi'. I had told mom and dad, who had to sign for the detention, the night before that Nils was my best friend in class and that we had just been up to too much nonsense in the midday lack of concentration. If only because they would probably have freaked out if I had told them the truth about what I had experienced at Nils's house.
For these reasons, the mood at the dinner table, as we sat around the steaming pan, was relaxed and quite funny, as it usually was. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed with glee how Nils carefully tapped the paella on his plate with his spoon, so that only a little rice stuck to the front, which he then tasted.
“You can dig in, Nils. It's not that hot anymore,” said Mom, who had misinterpreted the picture. And funnily enough, after his hesitant approach, Nils actually dug in as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. I told my parents about the day at school and that Sophie wanted to show me around the city tomorrow.
“And did the Nazi leave you alone today?“ asked my mother, also to forestall my father, who would probably have preferred to question me about Sophie. He saw himself as a former Casanova and had got it into his head that I should follow in his footsteps.
“Yes. I get along better with him at the moment,” I replied.
“Good. Don't let him provoke you. Maybe Nils can help you if he's giving you trouble. And if that doesn't work, we'll talk to Ms. Hellmann about it.”
“You can count on me,” Nils said with his mouth full, scooping up seconds. ”But I've known the Nazi for a while, too. He's not as bad as everyone thinks.
Dad looked at Nils thoughtfully: “I hope you're right, Nils. You know... We both had to go through terrible times in the nineties because of right-wing extremists, which you can't even imagine. Miguel, on the other hand, has always been lucky with his surroundings. It would break our hearts if that were to change now.
“Don't worry. It's only one kid. And we'll deal with him,“ Nils murmured rather sheepishly, and I put my hand over my mouth to hide my grin.
“We'll take care of it,” I said solemnly to Nils.
In the end, the pan was actually empty, even though Mom had cooked quite a lot. And that was mainly thanks to Nils. Then we said goodbye to my parents for the time being and went through the hallway over to the boxes laid out on the floor because Dad was painting there, to my room
My room was also still very improvised and didn't look very good yet. So far, we had just put all the furniture in the room, but we didn't want to start fine-tuning it until next week at the earliest. But Nils didn't complain about that; instead, his eyes fell on the large picture above my desk: “Beautiful.”
The poster showed a bay furrowed by cliffs, where fishermen were preparing their boats or just putting them into the water at a small sandy beach. Above it were the white houses of a village and in the background, under the orange-red sky of the sunrise, the rugged mountains of the Sierra Nevada
“I took this picture myself,” I said, not without pride. ‘It's near Nerja in Andalusia. My grandparents live about ten kilometers from there.”
When I saw that Nils was looking at the picture with a certain longing, I added with relish, ’I'm going to visit them again during the fall vacation.”
“Hmh.”
“Have you ever been to Spain?
“No. You just get ripped off there. My parents think we should leave our money in Germany anyway,” Nils replied, shocked, as if I had asked if he wouldn't mind going on vacation in Afghanistan
“What a shame. I think it would do you good.” I opened my notebook and also took out the notes we had already made yesterday. ”Okay. Where did we leave off?”
I would never have believed that schoolwork or even a punishment assignment could be fun for me, but that afternoon I enjoyed working with Nils. I thought of what Sophie had said at the big break. That afternoon, Nils showed his lovable and sensitive side and no longer fit into the image I had had of him until then. Another highlight was when we went out to my parents and, with lots of laughter and banter, gave them a trial presentation of our paper while they were painting the hallway. I had the impression that Nils wanted to go home afterwards. Because he insisted that we do the rest of our homework together. And I have to admit, I was happy about it. But at some point, it was already after 5 p.m., Nils got ready to leave. He had just put his things back in his backpack when I just had to say it
“Man Nils, even if I didn't think it was possible myself, Sophie was right. You really do have a nice side.”
“Well, well...” Nils replied, playing outraged.
I laughed: ‘If you didn't hate me and my parents, we could easily be friends.”
“Man, Miguel... I don't hate you.’ Nils' tone of voice made it clear that I had hit the nail on the head
“Yes. You hate all foreigners. If you now say that all foreigners are shit and only I or we three are an exception, then I'll take that from you.
“Yes, yes,” grumbled Nils, clearly in a worse mood than seconds before, swung his backpack over his shoulder and went to my room door. The conversation was over, but I was quite pleased with myself. After the positive impression I had gained from Nils today, I had hope that I had given him something to think about
“If you want, you are welcome to come back to our place, Nils. You are always welcome here,” my mother, who had already taken Nils into her heart, said goodbye as we were on our way to the apartment door.
“But let us know in good time if you want to eat with us. With your appetite, Ines has to go shopping beforehand,” Dad added cheekily, making us all laugh again, as was so often the case that afternoon.
I accompanied Nils down the stairs and to the street. ‘Well... See you tomorrow,’ I said goodbye.
“See you tomorrow. Um, Miguel... You and your parents You're great. Even if you don't like to hear that from me.“
Nils smiled at me with defiant eyes and I was touched to the quick.
He had already turned around and taken a few steps before I called after Nils: ‘And Nils.’
He turned around again: ‘Yes?’
”Your lips feel fantastic.
For a moment, Nils's facial features slipped. He must have thought I wanted to give him a kiss after all. But when he saw my honest smile, he regained his composure and just nodded to me in confusion: “See you tomorrow.”
I went inside with a good portion of butterflies in my stomach. In those moments, I was proud of my parents for showing Nils a different family life today than the one he was probably used to. A carefree one. I was already excited about what tomorrow would bring, not knowing that by then – literally overnight – my world would be a different one.
I felt like the biggest idiot when I stood next to Ms. Hellmann between the teacher's desk and the blackboard on September 30, 2013, and was stared at by 25 curious yet somehow disinterested pairs of eyes. My backpack was hanging over my shoulder on a buckle when my future class teacher spoke: “We have a new student in our class 10a as of today. Miguel... Would you like to briefly introduce yourself to the class?”
“Yes... Um, hello.” As always when I was nervous, I ran my hand through my shoulder-length hair and stammered on, ”My name is Miguel Garcia, I'm actually from Freiburg and have been living in Münsingen since Saturday.”
“Oooh, sexy,“ purred a dressed-up chick from the second row on the left, although I couldn't really tell whether she was being serious or mocking.
“It was sooo clear that you'd get horny again at the sight of a wog, Laura,” someone from the back row blasphemed. Some people in the rows of my new classmates chuckled nastily.
The sharp “Nils!” that Ms. Hellmann called out went in one ear and out the other for me. When my eyes met those of the troublemaker at the same moment, it hurt twice as much.
Maybe it's best if, before I continue writing, I tell you readers a little more about myself than I had done in front of the class As you have just read, my name is Miguel Garcia. I was born and raised in Freiburg im Breisgau. But now, at the age of 16 and shortly after starting my 10th year at school, my father was transferred for work reasons and I had no choice but to move with my parents. To a small town in the Swabian Alb called Münsingen This decision really hurt me. Because I was deeply rooted in Freiburg. I played soccer there, had a fantastic circle of friends and a cosmopolitan school class where I felt comfortable. All hopeful prerequisites for someone like me, who had only recently admitted to himself that he was homosexual and was just gathering the courage to come out.
And now, after being in my new class for less than three minutes, I was already being called a wog, and I had a painful premonition that from today everything would be different. In my old class in Freiburg, there were a few different ethnic groups represented two dark-skinned, a girl with Korean roots, a Turk and an Albanian. But when I let my eyes wander through the school benches here in Münsingen, I realized that I, as the son of Spanish parents, was apparently the greatest exotic. I had black hair, a southern European brown skin and black-brown eyes
For people like this guy, that was probably reason enough to insult me. Just one look at this guy was enough to give me more than a hint as to what kind of person he was. He was wearing a hoodie with the word 'Consdaple' on the chest, a brand that I knew was only worn by right-wing extremists He also had a martial haircut with short-cropped temples, while the blonde top hair was styled into a side parting. But what disturbed me most was when Nils grinned challengingly at me with his hazel eyes, he was so sweet No coarse thug's face or a chunky, pumped-up figure, but a soft, pleasantly cheeky face and a rather sporty, graceful build. I know it's ridiculous to judge people by that. But it was precisely this fact that made the hostility particularly difficult for me to bear.
It happened as it had to happen. All the seats in the class were taken except for one. In the back row, on the right, directly by the window, there was still a seat available. Of course, next to Nils.
Ms. Hellmann pointed to the empty chair: “Miguel, I suggest you take a seat right away and get directly involved in the lesson.”
“Okay.”
“But I don't want that dago sitting next to me,“ grumbled Nils as I approached him.
“Nils! That's enough! One more word and you're going to the principal!” Frau Hellmann shouted at him, which was acknowledged with a smug smile from Nils.
I now felt anything but comfortable in my own skin and wondered if Nils was perhaps just part of a Nazi clique that was making trouble at school and could be dangerous to me. Nevertheless, I quickly decided not to be intimidated by this creep. Nils wrinkled his nose as if I smelled when I sat down next to him. In response, I pushed his backpack, which was half on my side under the bench, with my foot to the side and commented on the act with the words: “Make room, Nazi.”
Nils and I exchanged a bitter look
The rest of the day and my first week in Münsingen were so-so. On the plus side, the curriculum was the same as in Freiburg, so it wasn't too difficult for me to get settled. Besides, my fear that there might be a neo-Nazi problem here was not confirmed Nils was the only openly right-wing radical here at school and an outsider. I found it strange that his right-wing slogans and his penchant for abstruse conspiracy theories were dismissed in class as rather endearing craziness. The general attitude of my new classmates turned out to be rather narrow-minded and bourgeois, and Nils wasn't even unpopular Meanwhile, I hardly made any contacts. Among the boys, there was mostly a provincial macho attitude, which I couldn't relate to anyway. That's why I mostly talked to a few of the girls I got along with better. It was obvious that one or the other of them wanted to get close to me.
Probably I would come across as a bit of a jerk over time if I had to keep them off my back. But I would have to accept that. Because of the latent homophobia that was everywhere, I quickly realized that I would not come out here in Münsingen The knowledge that there was no end in sight to the game of hide and seek that I had always hated hurt, but I didn't want to get myself killed either. And it wasn't even a year until the cards would be reshuffled after I graduated from secondary school, I kept telling myself.
During the first week, I was able to assert myself to some extent against the repulsive boy sitting next to me Our quarrels soon became the number one entertainment program in the class. And by the end of the week at the latest, I had even started to enjoy giving the neo-Nazi a counter and teasing him when the opportunity arose. I believed that I had developed a certain sense for Nils and had gained the impression that, despite his terrible attitude, he was not prone to violence
The turning point came on Tuesday of my second week in Münsingen. In the afternoon, geography was on the agenda. As usual, concentration was not as high at noon as it was in the morning Mr. Thoma held a monotonous monologue at the front of the class about the urbanization of the countryside and its impact on the environment, and he didn't let the growing murmur in the class disturb him. I myself had my arms folded on the table and my chin resting on my left forearm. In this way, I dozed off to the monotonous voice of our teacher.
My eyes were only open a tiny crack, and from the outside it might have looked as if I was asleep. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nils reach for my pencil case and pull it towards him. Immediately I was wide awake again. I also reached for my pencil case, and in the next moment there was a tug-of-war for it, while all the eyes of my classmates were focused on Nils and me.
“Give me that thing, you lousy pig,” I swore, while I tried to snatch my pencil case from Nils Nils also tugged at my pencil case with his left hand and tried to get the upper hand over it. In his right hand he held his Edding, with which he probably wanted to smear it and now, during the fight, drew black dots and lines on my hand: “Have it your way, Turk.”
“I'm not a Turk, I'm Spanish!”
“That's enough, Mr. Waldorf and Mr. Statler!“ bellowed Mr. Thoma, who had interrupted his mesmerizing speech.
“Who are Waldorf and Statler?” asked Nils, while he actually let go of my pencil case.
“They're the two old guys from the Muppet Show, idiot,” I lectured him.
Suddenly Nils slapped me – probably because of the last word. It was only a flick of the wrist and hardly hurt, but for a moment I felt so humiliated and provoked that I pushed him against the shoulder with both hands. Hard enough that Nils tipped over onto the floor together with his chair
“Hey, Turk! You...” Nils wanted to start swearing while he was getting up, but Mr. Thoma had come to our bench with a bright red head: ‘Shut up, Nils!’ I chuckled contentedly to myself. ‘And you too, Miguel! I'm getting really tired of you guys!’ The whole class was now as quiet as a mouse. Nobody would have thought that Thoma, who is a chronic sleepyhead, had the temperament to do this, and he wasn't done with us yet: “I have a special task for you two. You will work together to develop a presentation on models of sustainable urban development and present it to us on Thursday.” - Dramatic pause - “And I advise you to do it well, otherwise there will be serious consequences,” he added threateningly.
Nils and I looked first at Mr. Thoma and then at each other in horror. But all the whining and complaining didn't help. Me and the Nazi were in the same boat for the next two days.
“What a fool, Thoma,” grumbled Nils, after the lesson and thus also the afternoon school was over for the day. ‘You've really got us into this.”
“YOU got us into this with your shit in your head,’ I corrected him. ‘What should we do now?”
“Everyone does a little something and on Thursday morning we bring it together,’ suggested Nils.
“That'll never work. I'm afraid we really have to sit down and work something out together.”
Nils looked at me as if he wanted to eat me, but I stood by my idea: “Do you think I want to spend my free time with you? The faster we start, the faster we'll be done. Best right now.
“And where are we going?” Nils asked.
That was a good question. At our place, everything was still very chaotic because we were still in the throes of the moving stress. And knowing Nils, he would tell everyone the next day how anti-social the wogs were. Besides, I didn't feel like dragging an obvious neo-Nazi to my parents' house
“Your place,“ I just said.
“Forget it.”
“Our apartment is still a construction site and the internet is not set up yet,” I lied, but the argument was convincing. Nils made an outrageous sweet face: “Well then, let's do it.”
We left school on foot and walked in silence for the first few minutes, side by side. Then Nils murmured, “Let's get something to eat first.”
I was a bit surprised, because for me it was usual to have something to eat at home when I came home from school. Instead of saying something, I just said, “Döner maybe?” more out of habit and because there was a kebab shop in sight where two other students from our class were just going in
Instead of the expected insult, Nils explained precociously: “Not on your life. Özer jerks his sperm into the kebab sauce. The health department found that out recently.”
“Really?” I asked, not hearing the irony in Nils' voice.
“Yes. But because he's Turkish, they can't do anything.”
“Aha.”
Nils led me through several side streets to the edge of an adjacent industrial area, where there was a shabby chip shop. While I was eating chips that tasted of rancid fat and a curry sausage that had been drowned in sauce, the question of Nils' infamous health department was on the tip of my tongue After dinner, we had to walk for almost a quarter of an hour. Mainly because the silence between us was becoming almost ridiculous, I tried to start a conversation.
“Do you actually do sports?” I asked, because his figure suggested that he did
“Not at the moment. I was still wrestling until a year ago. My father and my brother are also involved. But the fighting stuff is not really my thing.”
“And you're not interested in any other sports either?”
“I used to play handball. But nowadays you can hardly join a club anymore. They are all being infiltrated by foreigners so that they can take them over. And you?
“I played soccer in Freiburg. I actually plan to infiltrate TSG Münsingen next week. Let's see if I can take it over in the near future.”
“The way they're scrambling around at the moment, it can only get better after that.”
I glanced over at Nils, who was grinning to himself, and I could hardly believe it. Had he really just made a joke that wasn't at my expense?
But the small glimpse of sympathy that this brief conversation had awakened was soon put to a hard test Nils led me to a semi-detached house that looked nice from the outside, although the kitschy front garden with the garden gnomes gave it a somewhat stuffy impression. He unlocked the front door and as we stepped through the hallway, a rough female voice said, “Is that you, Nils?”
“Yes.”
A moment later, a small, plump woman, whose face looked a bit swollen, came out of a door that I think led to the bathroom. She looked at me as if I had come from a different planet.
“What have you brought here?” she asked with contempt.
“This is Miguel. We have to do a geography assignment together.”
“And you let him push you around?” She shook her head in disbelief. ”You wait years for me to finally bring a girl home, and you can't think of anything better than to bring a creep like that into our house? Thanks a lot. Because of you and the mess you've dragged me into, I'll have to clean up later.”
“Mom...”
“Take your brother as an example. He's made of a completely different stuff!”
“Oh, shut up,” Nils said to his mother, annoyed. He pushed me roughly past her down the hall to his room, while I was far too shocked to react at all.
“Just wait until your father comes home!” she shouted after us, and Nils made a dismissive gesture, similar to a middle finger, only without a raised middle finger, which touched me in a bizarre way
When Nils pushed me through the door into his room, I felt relieved for a second. It was a kind of retreat from his mother. But the next shock was not long in coming. The black, red and gold flag with the federal eagle in the middle, which hung on the opposite wall from the door, was still within reason But the imperial war flag over Nils' bed, which dominated the room, did it for me. A strange oppressive feeling came over me when Nils closed the door behind us. It was as if my mind couldn't breathe.
“Welcome to the Wolf's Lair,” I murmured dejectedly, and Nils grinned maliciously at my reaction.
His eyes followed my gaze to the imperial war flag: “My brother gave it to me last year for Christmas.”
“I feel sorry for you.”
Slowly but surely, I began to understand the source of the venomous thoughts that Nils carried with him. Nils seemed to have noticed that there was neither sarcasm nor malice in my words. His grin disappeared from his face, as if I had hit a sore spot.
“I'd say we start,” he said, and booted up his PC.
What happened over the next two or three hours was even more confusing to me than anything I had experienced with Nils before I guess if we had nagged each other and made each other's lives difficult, I would have coped well with it. But that was not the case. We sat next to each other, knee to knee at Nils' desk in front of the PC and researched our topic in a concentrated and somehow harmonious way, using various examples from around the world that we could find. I had just opened my geography book on the subject and was reading a paragraph to compare a Wikipedia find with the information in our teaching material. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nils turn his head to me and smile. When I sought eye contact, he quickly turned his face away and became serious again
Without letting ourselves be distracted from the topic of the presentation, I noticed again and again how Nils looked at me when he thought I wouldn't notice and repeatedly avoided my gaze when I looked at him. Over time, I also managed to catch his eye. We talked about district heating in Copenhagen or Greenovate Boston and exchanged so much humor with our eyes that I wondered if we were flirting. Time flew by surprisingly fast. Although I had secretly always expected Nils' parents to storm the room at some point to drag me out and put me on the street, there were no incidents.
It was already a little after seven. I was tired, my vision was blurring, and from hours of concentrated work, my brain felt fuzzy: “I think I'll go home slowly. We can do the rest tomorrow. There's not much left.”
“Okay.”
Nils looked at me dreamily and was obviously somewhere else mentally, too. We were both sitting close together, leaning on the table with our elbows on the table top and resting our heads wearily on our fists. Our faces were only a little distance apart in this position and suddenly it happened. Nils' lips were on mine. I opened my eyes wide and reflexively pulled my head back Nils did the same and the shock almost knocked him off his chair. The whole thing came out of nowhere, so at first I didn't even know whether the initiative had come from me or from Nils. But when I saw Nils's shamefaced eyes, I knew.
“Dude, what was that?” I snapped at him, regretting the tone of my voice the next moment.
“You... It was an accident. I slipped.”
“Um... Okayyyy,” I said, letting Nils know from the intonation that I didn't believe a word of it.
Nils was almost begging, ”Please, Miguel. Don't tell anyone.
Somehow I felt an urge to kick and bleed the Nazi. Instead, I just said, “I'll forget what just happened,” and stood up.
“Thanks.”
I had already opened the door to the hallway and was standing in the doorframe when I turned around again. From the living room, diagonally opposite, the TV program could be heard muffled
“And if you want to talk about it, you can trust me. Think about it.”
Then I went out and left Nils with this offer in his room. Not a second later, a harsh male voice shouted from the living room, probably as an unwelcome response to my words to Nils: “You'd better get the hell out of my house and leave my son alone, you disgusting wog!
Suddenly I was torn out of my pathetic mood. My diaphragm cramped in shock as I thought I heard someone get up abruptly in the living room and I rushed to the front door in a panic. With a racing heart, I took one more distraught look at this horror house with the well-kept front garden from the street. On the way home, I was close to tears
That night, it took me a long time to fall asleep. My thoughts revolved around racism, more inhuman than I had ever experienced it before, around the Nazi flags under the Christmas tree, Nils' smile, which was enchanting when there was no mockery in it, and the softness of his lips
“Who are you really, Nils?” I murmured half asleep in the middle of the night. Eventually I fell asleep.
The next day I went to school feeling queasy. I hadn't slept well and was jittery. Yesterday I had got to know an almost lovable side of Nils, but I didn't quite trust him I thought it likely that he would revert to his obnoxious behavior in the presence of our class. What if Nils were to twist the facts and claim in class that I had tried to kiss him? Some would certainly believe him, if only for the sensationalism of it. And if I were to say that it had happened the other way around, I would have made a fool of myself. No one would have believed Nils capable of such a thing...
I was racking my brain with such thoughts as I entered the classroom shortly before the start of class. As every morning at this time, the atmosphere was chaotic. There was arguing, laughing, homework being scribbled down in a rush, and talking all at once For once, I was relieved that most of my new classmates ignored me, as they usually did. Only Sophie, who I had the feeling wanted to get close to me and with whom I felt on the same wavelength, called out a cheerful “Hello Miguel”. I threw her a smile that was supposed to look as nice as neutral.
Nils was already there. He sat silently in his seat, his eyes fixed on me as I came through the door and walked towards him. This morning, for once, Nils wasn't wearing a shirt associated with right-wing ideology. He was wearing a gray sweater with no brand visible. The eyes that looked at me seemed bleary-eyed and exhausted. I saw at first glance that no adversity threatened me from this side today.
“Hey,” we both said almost simultaneously as a greeting when I sat down next to Nils.
While I took my books for the first hour out of my backpack and put them on the table, Nils looked furtively over at me, as if something was on his mind and he didn't dare to address it.
“Did your parents give you any trouble yesterday because of me?“ I asked, mainly to say something at all.
“No, it's fine,” was Nils's answer, which I didn't believe.
“Good.”
Another awkward silence between us, which didn't fit at all with the general mood in the class that morning. It was a small relief when Ms. Hellmann entered the classroom and started the lesson. Our classmates were probably waiting for Nils and me to start our daily arguments and exchange poison arrows. We had always been good at these showpieces up to that point, but today was different. There was something of a hangover mood between us. I didn't know how to deal with Nils and he was inscrutable in his taciturnity, it was impossible to see what was going on in his head.
When the big break came, I trotted alone into the schoolyard. The smell of the new still clung to me and my classmates still didn't make it easy for me to fit in. Wistfully, I looked at the little groups standing together chatting or kicking a ball around on the slightly raised concrete area
“Hey Miguel,” someone said cheerfully, while I wallowed in my self-pity and someone pinched my earlobe from behind. I turned and didn't see anything at first But when I turned my head in the other direction, there was Sophie, who had tried to hide behind my back and was now smiling sweetly at me. The smile immediately infected me and I was grateful to her for pulling me out of my loneliness.
“I hope I'm not disturbing you while you're melancholizing?” she joked, because my posture had probably given me away.
“No. I just finished it.”
“Then I'm relieved.” An embarrassed silence, because nobody really knew what to talk about. ‘And have you settled in a bit by now?”
“Not really yet,’ I admitted. ”The people here seem more reserved to me than in Freiburg.”
“Oh, it will be fine. You just have to get to know them properly.” - Another one of Sophie's open-hearted laughs that made her even more likeable.
“Well, hopefully.”
“You know what, Miguel? I'll give you a tour of Münsingen. The most beautiful places, the nicest people and the most exciting sights in one afternoon. What do you say?”
Sophie had finally managed to make me laugh with her way of laughing: “I can't say no to an offer like that. And when would you like to show me around the city?”
“Right after school today?”
“That sounds tempting, but I already have another date this afternoon.”
I couldn't help but grin when I saw Sophie's jaw drop.
For an explanation, I looked at Nils, who was sitting alone on a step near the table tennis tables, from where he had been watching Sophie and me all the time, conspicuously inconspicuously, and now, when we looked, quickly turned his head away: “Nils and I didn't finish our punishment work yesterday. We have to go back to it today.
“Oh dear,” Sophie regretted. ‘With the Nazi, of all people.”
“I'll be fine with that,’ I stated. ‘He'd better make sure that he's healthy enough later so that we can work on the presentation,’ I added, because it smelled like trouble for Nils. A group of Turks from our parallel class and from the ninth grade had gathered not far from him, listening to gangsta rap on a smartphone, and now and then Nils got dirty looks.
“You'd like that, so you'd have time for me this afternoon,” Sophie laughed. “But don't get your hopes up. They'll leave Nils alone.”
“Are you so sure?”
“You don't know what his brother is like, do you?”
“Tell me.”
Sophie took a breath: “Well. His brother Torsten – I think he's 19 or 20 now – is a really dangerous fascist. He's also in one of those fraternities or whatever they call it And when Nils gets someone in trouble, his brother and his friends come to avenge him. That's when there's nothing left to laugh about,“ she explained to me bitterly and sarcastically.
”So another one of those guys,” I muttered, but Sophie put me in my place
“You can't compare Nils with Torsten.” She paused to consider how best to explain it. ”Believe it or not, I've known Nils since kindergarten. Nils has a good, sensitive side and he can be pretty nice. But he shows that side less and less... Have you met his parents yet?
I nodded with bitter memories.
“They met as NPD officials and are up to their necks in the brown swamp. What will become of someone like Nils if he is exposed to such Nazi-thought garbage from morning to night for a lifetime? And every summer vacation, when we have a good time, he is sent to the Young Nationalists' vacation camp for the necessary brainwashing."
I could have smirked at how Sophie had worked herself up more and more from word to word if her sentences hadn't been so disturbing. But it was clear that she still cared about Nils
“And this Torsten... Does he still live with his parents?” I wanted to know.
“No. As far as I know, he moved to Blaubeuren a few months ago.”
When we sat down at our table again after the big break, Nils gave me a huffy look: ”Have you been talking shit about me to Sophie?”
“Sophie said that you also had a nice side. Crazy, right?”
“Hmh.”
Short pause.
“What about it, Nils? Do we continue with the presentation at noon?”
“We have to.”
“But believe me on one thing: I'm not going home with you again. Today we're going to my place.”
For a second or two, Nils's look, which had been ridiculously defiant (jealous?!) until then, reflected a sense of shame that gave me hope: “If you think so...”
After we had finished school at 1 p.m., Nils and I actually made our way to my house together. Nils was at least not quite as stubborn as he had been that morning, but he still didn't seem comfortable with himself.
“Let's get something to eat,” he asked shortly after we left the school grounds.
“I sent my mom a message that I was bringing someone. She'll cook a little more now.”
“I see. Okay.”
It took an effort not to laugh when I saw Nils's almost desperate look: “Don't worry. Mom won't poison the German boy. I only ordered a dash of laxative for your portion, but that's it.”
“Depp,” Nils grumbled, but he couldn't suppress his grin.
Once again, we walked along Hauff-Straße in silence for several minutes, until Nils broke it: ”Um... Miguel...”
“Yes?”
“Thanks for not telling anyone about the... thing... from yesterday.”
“Don't mention it.
“It really was just an accident. You don't have to think I'm a homo.”
“Man, Nils. You don't have to justify yourself to me. Even if it was, it wouldn't be something I'd have a problem with.”
Nils shot me a baffled look that was as brief as it was telling. Then he saw that he could change the subject: “Have you actually got your internet working yet?”
“I lied to you about it yesterday,” I said dryly.
“I thought so.”
Now Nils was facing a real test. Dinner with the Spaniards. Because of the stress of the move, my father also had vacation this week and of course my parents had waited for me for lunch. And now that my mother knew that I was bringing a guest, she was ambitious She had made a large pan full of an Andalusian chicken paella variant, which was our family's favorite dish. And for someone like Nils, who, thanks to his upbringing, didn't trust any food more exotic than a gypsy schnitzel, this meal in the company of us 'blackheads' was a challenge
Luckily, Nils was dressed in civilian clothes that day, with a gray sweater and New Balance sneakers, and in this combination, his haircut could also pass as an unsuccessful undercut. It also turned out to be a lucky coincidence that when I had grumbled about him to my parents during the last few days, I had never used the name 'Nils', but had always spoken disparagingly of 'the Nazi'. I had told mom and dad, who had to sign for the detention, the night before that Nils was my best friend in class and that we had just been up to too much nonsense in the midday lack of concentration. If only because they would probably have freaked out if I had told them the truth about what I had experienced at Nils's house.
For these reasons, the mood at the dinner table, as we sat around the steaming pan, was relaxed and quite funny, as it usually was. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed with glee how Nils carefully tapped the paella on his plate with his spoon, so that only a little rice stuck to the front, which he then tasted.
“You can dig in, Nils. It's not that hot anymore,” said Mom, who had misinterpreted the picture. And funnily enough, after his hesitant approach, Nils actually dug in as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. I told my parents about the day at school and that Sophie wanted to show me around the city tomorrow.
“And did the Nazi leave you alone today?“ asked my mother, also to forestall my father, who would probably have preferred to question me about Sophie. He saw himself as a former Casanova and had got it into his head that I should follow in his footsteps.
“Yes. I get along better with him at the moment,” I replied.
“Good. Don't let him provoke you. Maybe Nils can help you if he's giving you trouble. And if that doesn't work, we'll talk to Ms. Hellmann about it.”
“You can count on me,” Nils said with his mouth full, scooping up seconds. ”But I've known the Nazi for a while, too. He's not as bad as everyone thinks.
Dad looked at Nils thoughtfully: “I hope you're right, Nils. You know... We both had to go through terrible times in the nineties because of right-wing extremists, which you can't even imagine. Miguel, on the other hand, has always been lucky with his surroundings. It would break our hearts if that were to change now.
“Don't worry. It's only one kid. And we'll deal with him,“ Nils murmured rather sheepishly, and I put my hand over my mouth to hide my grin.
“We'll take care of it,” I said solemnly to Nils.
In the end, the pan was actually empty, even though Mom had cooked quite a lot. And that was mainly thanks to Nils. Then we said goodbye to my parents for the time being and went through the hallway over to the boxes laid out on the floor because Dad was painting there, to my room
My room was also still very improvised and didn't look very good yet. So far, we had just put all the furniture in the room, but we didn't want to start fine-tuning it until next week at the earliest. But Nils didn't complain about that; instead, his eyes fell on the large picture above my desk: “Beautiful.”
The poster showed a bay furrowed by cliffs, where fishermen were preparing their boats or just putting them into the water at a small sandy beach. Above it were the white houses of a village and in the background, under the orange-red sky of the sunrise, the rugged mountains of the Sierra Nevada
“I took this picture myself,” I said, not without pride. ‘It's near Nerja in Andalusia. My grandparents live about ten kilometers from there.”
When I saw that Nils was looking at the picture with a certain longing, I added with relish, ’I'm going to visit them again during the fall vacation.”
“Hmh.”
“Have you ever been to Spain?
“No. You just get ripped off there. My parents think we should leave our money in Germany anyway,” Nils replied, shocked, as if I had asked if he wouldn't mind going on vacation in Afghanistan
“What a shame. I think it would do you good.” I opened my notebook and also took out the notes we had already made yesterday. ”Okay. Where did we leave off?”
I would never have believed that schoolwork or even a punishment assignment could be fun for me, but that afternoon I enjoyed working with Nils. I thought of what Sophie had said at the big break. That afternoon, Nils showed his lovable and sensitive side and no longer fit into the image I had had of him until then. Another highlight was when we went out to my parents and, with lots of laughter and banter, gave them a trial presentation of our paper while they were painting the hallway. I had the impression that Nils wanted to go home afterwards. Because he insisted that we do the rest of our homework together. And I have to admit, I was happy about it. But at some point, it was already after 5 p.m., Nils got ready to leave. He had just put his things back in his backpack when I just had to say it
“Man Nils, even if I didn't think it was possible myself, Sophie was right. You really do have a nice side.”
“Well, well...” Nils replied, playing outraged.
I laughed: ‘If you didn't hate me and my parents, we could easily be friends.”
“Man, Miguel... I don't hate you.’ Nils' tone of voice made it clear that I had hit the nail on the head
“Yes. You hate all foreigners. If you now say that all foreigners are shit and only I or we three are an exception, then I'll take that from you.
“Yes, yes,” grumbled Nils, clearly in a worse mood than seconds before, swung his backpack over his shoulder and went to my room door. The conversation was over, but I was quite pleased with myself. After the positive impression I had gained from Nils today, I had hope that I had given him something to think about
“If you want, you are welcome to come back to our place, Nils. You are always welcome here,” my mother, who had already taken Nils into her heart, said goodbye as we were on our way to the apartment door.
“But let us know in good time if you want to eat with us. With your appetite, Ines has to go shopping beforehand,” Dad added cheekily, making us all laugh again, as was so often the case that afternoon.
I accompanied Nils down the stairs and to the street. ‘Well... See you tomorrow,’ I said goodbye.
“See you tomorrow. Um, Miguel... You and your parents You're great. Even if you don't like to hear that from me.“
Nils smiled at me with defiant eyes and I was touched to the quick.
He had already turned around and taken a few steps before I called after Nils: ‘And Nils.’
He turned around again: ‘Yes?’
”Your lips feel fantastic.
For a moment, Nils's facial features slipped. He must have thought I wanted to give him a kiss after all. But when he saw my honest smile, he regained his composure and just nodded to me in confusion: “See you tomorrow.”
I went inside with a good portion of butterflies in my stomach. In those moments, I was proud of my parents for showing Nils a different family life today than the one he was probably used to. A carefree one. I was already excited about what tomorrow would bring, not knowing that by then – literally overnight – my world would be a different one.