thread seeker than profound. Life’s too complicated.”
“Yes,” says Florian, “but girls are hot.”
“True.” Janosch interrupts him. “Girls are hot. But somehow they’re even more complicated than life is.”
“Aren’t girls what life is?” asks Glob.
“They’re certainly part of it,” says Florian.
“Which part?” asks Glob.
“The part from the neck to the navel,” is Florian’s reply.
“Is life female?” asks Skinny Felix.
Janosch grabs a couple of beer cans out of Troy’s pajama top. He wants to give them to the girls as soon as he comes into the room, to make clear what a hellish job it was to get the beer upstairs. Janosch thinks Malen goes for guys who pull off difficult stunts. She finds it sexy. I can’t be her servant that way. Nor, any longer, can Troy. He puts all the cans down on the parquet floor. It’s dark brown and made up of plate-sized rectangles, and you hear every step. But the tutor lives at the other end of the corridor. It’s Florian’s view that she won’t hear us. Janosch knocks on the door. The knock echoes softly, and the sound almost dies away in the large corridor. The girls’ hall is bigger than Tarts’ Alley. There are sixteen rooms, one right next to the other in a single row. Glob thinks the tutors must have real trouble checking here. Too many rooms. And they’re too big. Cupboards and niches provide excellent hiding spots. Even a thousand of them would have a tough time. Janosch knocks again, louder this time. A hushed voice sounds from inside. Unmistakably Malen. “We’re waiting. Come in!”
Janosch laughs. His eyes glitter as he swallows a slug of beer. Fat Felix gives him a nudge with his shoulder. They exchange glances for a moment. Janosch puts an encouraging arm around him, then he goes into the room. The others shoot in after him. They’re excited. Even Troy doesn’t hesitate to get in there. But I wait in the corridor, shifting slowly from my right foot to my left. I stare at the walls. They’re white. Unbelievably white. Lots of pictures on them, in large square glass frames. They’re photos of the highs and lows of five years of boarding school, at least that’s how I read them. Pictures of good times and bad. Maybe a dozen of them. Malen taking a jump on a snowboard. Her long blond hair flies in the wind. She’s smiling in a forced sort of way. I wonder if she’s really happy, if anyone in boarding school is happy. Janosch says nobody’s happy here. Everyone’s from some rough family situation. Or else they’re stinking rich. And if they are, they’re even unhappier. They all have to be laughing in the school brochure, according to him. That’s how it always is. They have to be laughing, so that more unhappy kids will be there to laugh in future brochures. That’s boarding school. Has been for centuries.
“Doesn’t the new guy want to come in with us?” The voice echoes out of the room into the hall. I get ready to go in. I don’t want them to get mad or whatever. Besides which I don’t want them yelling out into the hall again. If they keep on, there’ll be trouble.
“Of course he does.” That’s Janosch’s voice. “He’s been thinking about it all night. He even wanted to go up the ladder. Didn’t matter what we said.”
I go into the room. It’s about twice the size of mine. Three beds in this one, spread out all over the place. There’s even a small stove. Parquet on the floor, just like in the hall, but a little paler. The same plate-sized rectangles. Three windows. Must be incredibly light during the day. A wooden desk in front of each one. All three the same color as the parquet. Same with the three big cupboards next to the desks. Posters on the walls, too many to count. All of them are either some muscle man licking a babe out of her bra, or they’re Leonardo DiCaprio. I hate Leonardo DiCaprio. Not that he can help it. All women love him. Enough already. You have to be a man to get jealous over
“Yes,” says Florian, “but girls are hot.”
“True.” Janosch interrupts him. “Girls are hot. But somehow they’re even more complicated than life is.”
“Aren’t girls what life is?” asks Glob.
“They’re certainly part of it,” says Florian.
“Which part?” asks Glob.
“The part from the neck to the navel,” is Florian’s reply.
“Is life female?” asks Skinny Felix.
Janosch grabs a couple of beer cans out of Troy’s pajama top. He wants to give them to the girls as soon as he comes into the room, to make clear what a hellish job it was to get the beer upstairs. Janosch thinks Malen goes for guys who pull off difficult stunts. She finds it sexy. I can’t be her servant that way. Nor, any longer, can Troy. He puts all the cans down on the parquet floor. It’s dark brown and made up of plate-sized rectangles, and you hear every step. But the tutor lives at the other end of the corridor. It’s Florian’s view that she won’t hear us. Janosch knocks on the door. The knock echoes softly, and the sound almost dies away in the large corridor. The girls’ hall is bigger than Tarts’ Alley. There are sixteen rooms, one right next to the other in a single row. Glob thinks the tutors must have real trouble checking here. Too many rooms. And they’re too big. Cupboards and niches provide excellent hiding spots. Even a thousand of them would have a tough time. Janosch knocks again, louder this time. A hushed voice sounds from inside. Unmistakably Malen. “We’re waiting. Come in!”
Janosch laughs. His eyes glitter as he swallows a slug of beer. Fat Felix gives him a nudge with his shoulder. They exchange glances for a moment. Janosch puts an encouraging arm around him, then he goes into the room. The others shoot in after him. They’re excited. Even Troy doesn’t hesitate to get in there. But I wait in the corridor, shifting slowly from my right foot to my left. I stare at the walls. They’re white. Unbelievably white. Lots of pictures on them, in large square glass frames. They’re photos of the highs and lows of five years of boarding school, at least that’s how I read them. Pictures of good times and bad. Maybe a dozen of them. Malen taking a jump on a snowboard. Her long blond hair flies in the wind. She’s smiling in a forced sort of way. I wonder if she’s really happy, if anyone in boarding school is happy. Janosch says nobody’s happy here. Everyone’s from some rough family situation. Or else they’re stinking rich. And if they are, they’re even unhappier. They all have to be laughing in the school brochure, according to him. That’s how it always is. They have to be laughing, so that more unhappy kids will be there to laugh in future brochures. That’s boarding school. Has been for centuries.
“Doesn’t the new guy want to come in with us?” The voice echoes out of the room into the hall. I get ready to go in. I don’t want them to get mad or whatever. Besides which I don’t want them yelling out into the hall again. If they keep on, there’ll be trouble.
“Of course he does.” That’s Janosch’s voice. “He’s been thinking about it all night. He even wanted to go up the ladder. Didn’t matter what we said.”
I go into the room. It’s about twice the size of mine. Three beds in this one, spread out all over the place. There’s even a small stove. Parquet on the floor, just like in the hall, but a little paler. The same plate-sized rectangles. Three windows. Must be incredibly light during the day. A wooden desk in front of each one. All three the same color as the parquet. Same with the three big cupboards next to the desks. Posters on the walls, too many to count. All of them are either some muscle man licking a babe out of her bra, or they’re Leonardo DiCaprio. I hate Leonardo DiCaprio. Not that he can help it. All women love him. Enough already. You have to be a man to get jealous over
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