Why did I maybe cross? Because I was only 12? Because I was too fast? Because of their stupidity? Also. And because of what happened a week ago. We went to the cinema with the school. The whole class, all 150 men. Kleine Biester, a film about puberty girls in a holiday camp somewhere in this colorful America, that came to our house every evening at 8 p.m. I sat in the first row to get to know something, because last year I became short-sighted and missed a pair of glasses, which I never put on. Next to me were all the wire brush girls, talked loudly and were accused by the boys behind us, who turned around, threatened, threw back, twitched their brushes, screamed, laughed, cursed. I quickly gave up wanting to follow the film. Nothing happened anyway and nothing again. Christy McNickel rowed across a lake with a guy who looked like Johnny and chewed chewing gum. She looked stupid. Hey Phil, do you want a kiss? Jenny suddenly asked. She called it across the cinema hall. I was surprised that she even knew my name. Only the first half of it, but at least. Sure, I called back. Apparently it was just meant as a stupid joke, so answer just as stupid and funny. You have to come, she called. Come here, I called. Okay. She stood up and bent over the three wire brushes that were sitting between us to me. I also stood up, like remote-controlled. Now we both stood and looked at each other. Then she said, sit down and tell us everything you had. I heard and felt nothing. Not even the coke can that hit me on the head. Okay, maybe that one. Jenny was so pretty. Here in the dark she even looked even better. She touched my shoulder with her tender hand and kissed me on the mouth. She kept chewing her chewing gum. I could taste it. The whole cinema hall cheered and applauded. They threw even more stuff at us. The teacher said something with people. My mouth was burning, my heart was boiling. We sat down again. Christy and Johnny still on their soft lake. How much time had passed? No idea. My first kiss. And everyone saw it. I was the hero. My life would never be like it was before. Madness. Astrein. Help. Somehow I suddenly longed painfully for the harmlessness of my life before the kiss. Maybe I would get a little bit of it back if I concentrated like crazy on the boring movie. Watching movies was childhood, right? American toy movie. Childhood. Unfortunately, this movie was obviously about similar things as I just experienced them. Hey Phil, do you want a gummy bear? Jenny called. Sure, I said. Gummy bear. One step back. I liked that. It all went pretty fast, with kissing and stuff. Now a gummy bear. Gummy bear. A good, clean joke. The *** of the little man. Totally okay. Bring it on. Here, said Jenny, and gave the bear to Christiane, who sat next to me. Christiane gave it to Manuela. Manuela gave it to Michaela, and Michaela gave it to me. All these tough brides worked for Jenny and me. I felt like a king of harems. Took the sticky part from Michaela's hand, idiotically kissed Jenny with it, and put it in her mouth. My first gummy bear of love. It tasted sweet. I wanted to chew on it forever, I thought. Tastes good, said Jenny. Mmm, I did. I chewed on it, she said. I didn't say anything about it. Chewed on. Chewed, chewed. That part wasn't easy to get. Chewed, chewed, chewed. Wasn't there also bull's blood in it? Oh, no, it was licorice. Thank you very much. The next few days I tried to get Jenny out of the way. It wasn't that hard, because the school was so huge, and we didn't have any classes together except for biology. It made me proud that she apparently loved me, but I just needed more time to think. Well, to really think about it, hmm, hmm, on the one hand, but on the other hand, what do you think, dear Watson? Pull the pipe? Actually, I didn't. Instead, I played the story of Jenny and me with my cowboy playmobiles made of fireballs. But in this game, I was an innocent fugitive, who was looking for shelter in a saloon. This is where Jenny works, too, as a dancer. But the cavalry is on my heels, and they storm the saloon. Surrender, Desperado, calls the captain with a pointed sabre. But I quickly *** Jenny and hold my gun to her neck. Leave me alone, or the doll can say her last prayer. I hiss, and my face is closed to everything. Jenny is scared. I feel her body tremble in plastic. I'm sorry, of course. She doesn't know I'm innocent, and actually a nice guy who would never hurt her. But I have no choice. I have to bluff my pursuers, and Jenny is the card I'm betting everything on. Leave the doll alone, Ganove. You're dead anyway, calls the captain now. If you hurt her, we'll kill you. Don't come any closer, I warn you, I say with a dangerously quiet voice and hold Jenny tight to me. If I'm safe, I'll explain everything and apologize to her. But now I have to look convincing. What do you want, asks the captain. Give me two horses, provisions and half an hour's lead. Captain, why don't we shoot the scoundrel over the head? calls a brown-haired cavalryman, spitting out. He pulls out his gun and points it at me. Don't, the captain shouts, and beats the iron out of his paw. Don't make a mistake, Mac Ferguson. This is Jenny, the daughter of General Palmer. Here in the saloon, she only dances as a leisure activity. Hey, the daughter of General Palmer. Jackpot! Luck seems to be smiling at me. Is it going to be with the horses and the provisions, I ask, and with a grin, she prepares both for me. I yelp at Jenny for one horse, swing at the other and shout, Yes! And we gallop off. We flee to my secret hideout, a totally cozy rock cave, where she pulls a whisky jug over my skull in an unexpected minute and then ties me up. When I come to her again, she stands by the stove and cooks. Then we eat. She feeds me because my hands are tied up. Then she puts on a silk nightgown, where she probably has it, and we go to sleep. I didn't get any further with my game. There are now several pages here, dozens of pages, in which our protagonist is still thinking, whether he should now or not, and he always has this note, one of Jenny's notes, I had picked up. Again and again I folded it up and looked at her writing. The big columns that she made instead of i-points, a sign of stupidity. The slight left-hand movement and the girlish roundness of the letters. The lost and needy-looking lonely L at will. I took my pen... I took my pen, drew a little maybe box next to the others and crossed it out. Was I possibly a desperado in real life, who wrote his own laws and didn't care about specifications? Could happen, friends. I waited until the writing was dry, folded the note up again and put it in my pocket. Once I was sitting somewhere in the wide corridors of the school with Kleinlein, a handsome boy. Kleinlein was just telling me something about his favorite comics, Tim and Struppi. That wasn't the case for me. I preferred Lucky Luke, but out of politeness I listened. Suddenly there were five wire brushes around the corner. Silke, Manuela, Martina, Christiane and again Christiane. There were two dark, older, sneakers-biker guys with him and one of them, of course, was Johnny again. They were staring at us and built up in a circle around us. Kleinlein stopped in the middle of the sentence, looking at Silke, an unimportant figure in the Italo-western. Hey, you idiot, Silke said to me. Pff, I did. What do you want? Silke asked and pulled her wire brush. Nothing, I said. Do you want me to give you advice? Silence. I could feel that Kleinlein would like to leave now, but the half-circle also surrounded him. His Tim and Struppi didn't prepare him for such a situation. Hey, Jenny is crying because of you, said the old Christiane. Oh, really? Maybe because I hadn't decided yet whether yes or no. Three weeks had already passed since then. ***, the poor thing. Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm. What do you want? Silke scared me out of my thoughts again. Nothing, I said and looked to the side. Don't look to the side, said Silke. I can look wherever I want, but I blamed myself more. What do you want? Nothing. Don't play the clown. Okay. Silence again. Longer silence this time. Then Silke said, leave Jenny alone. I stayed silent. You're playing with her feelings. Don't play with her feelings anymore. I'm not doing that. Johnny and his friend are slowly getting bored. Did you understand what I said, asked Silke threateningly. I stayed silent. The right answer was probably rather no than yes. But maybe I would understand if I thought about it for a moment. I needed time. Little one fell off the chair. Whatever the reason. Now Johnny ***bed me in reverse. Watch out, Peeple. You're one of a kind. You're the kind of guy who wants trouble. Do you want trouble? Tricky question. If I said no now, it would mean that Johnny can't watch well. So answer in evasion. Hey, you're too many and I'm alone. That's unfair. You're not alone, said Johnny who just lay down on the floor which didn't seem as organic to him as to Vogel. You're not alone. You've got the *** here. Well, I said. The gay ***, said Johnny. Because you're both gay ***s. I laughed a little, as if it were a spiritual joke at no one's expense. Leave Jenny alone, shouted Silke with a red head. Let's get out of here. It's *** here, said the one who wasn't Johnny. You said you'd come with us, shouted Silke. Johnny hesitated. Typical ***. This Silke with her red head wasn't cool in her world. We'll go, he said after a while. But then he turned to me again. If you make me your man again, Peeple, I'll get rid of you. Okay, I said. It was as always. You could understand the guys, not the women. The other guy suddenly began to kick in small steps, which rolled together like a caterpillar. But they were only indicated steps. For you it's the same, you mongrel, said the kicker. Come on, let's go, said Johnny. No, shouted Silke. You said you'd come with us. Johnny hesitated. But Silke looked at Johnny when he hesitated. We've been there, said Johnny. And they rode off. They brushed the wire afterwards. Little Lion climbed back on his chair and continued with his Tim and Struppi lecture as if nothing had happened. But the momentum was gone. And Jenny ignored me from then on. When I looked at her, she turned her head away. But Silke shook her brush in my direction. A few weeks later I made up my mind. All right. Yes. Whatever. Maybe she was a little stupid. But unfortunately, they were all pretty girls. And maybe, maybe it was important to me. I took the old, folded-up note and said yes. In the next bio-hour I threw the note back at her. Unfortunately, it ended up with Schmelitz again. He folded it apart, read it, chewed on it, soaked it with his hand sweat, vomited from his pimples and did a thousand other things to Jenny, but she saw through me. I wrote a second note that only said yes and threw it at Schmelitz as well. A third one hit the window and landed on the floor. I didn't write anything on the fourth note because I thought maybe I could aim better if the message wasn't so important. But he flew back to Schmelitz who stared at him for the rest of the hour. He turned him back and forth, spat on him, wiped his spit, looked from the other side, melted his ears, rubbed them, and in the end he just threw up. My fifth note rolled against Jenny's table and landed next to her feet. She didn't pay attention. The next day I saw her walking through the hallway with a bird in her arms. My heart broke. And? That doesn't bother me at all, I said, like a mental disorder again and again loudly in front of me. Do you already have a girlfriend? asked my mother. Several, I answered. In bio, I changed my mind. Because of whom, ACDC? Judas Priest, dude.