Crazy (4 page)

Chapter 5

“Does everyone do shit like this when they’re young?” asks Fat Felix as we get to the end of Landorf ’s corridor.

We were extra quiet all the way along it. Janosch says the tutor sometimes is still up playing with his computer around this time of night. He’s supposed to be nuts about poker. But it’s only a rumor.

“What sort of shit?” asks Janosch.

“Going to visit the girls at night,” says Felix. “Up the fire escape! Don’t you know the penalty for unnecessary use of the fire escape?”

“Haven’t a clue. And we’ve done it a thousand times before—why’re you getting so excited? We’re heroes, or did you forget? Your namesake said so.”

“My namesake’s a jerk-off,” says Felix. “What does he know?”

“Exactly,” says Florian a.k.a. Girl. “What do
any
of us know? That’s what makes us heroes. Heroes never know anything, and as heroes we can do anything we like. A fire escape isn’t going to get in our way.”

“Is that the logic of youth?” asks Glob.

“No, it’s the logic of jerk-offs,” says Skinny Felix.

“The logic of jerk-offs and heroes,” adds Janosch. Faint sniggering echoes along the connecting corridor, maybe even reaches down Tarts’ Alley to the tutor’s door. But nobody’s paying attention. We carry on. I’m beginning to feel like an idiot on Janosch’s back. As if I can’t manage for myself or walk on my own. But I can. Or at least I always could. But I don’t say anything to him; he’d only tell me again not to shit in my pants. And I’m not up to making trouble right now. Through the window I look at the sky. A great black expanse, with a scattered cargo of bright stars. Looks nice. Hard to believe some of them don’t even exist anymore, since they’ve been dead for aeons; it’s just we don’t see them because the light takes too long to get here. On the horizon you can see the Alps, just dark shapes, darker than the sky. Hannibal crossed them, as our history teacher was always telling us. I have to admit I kept dozing off and dreaming. That was around the time I got a crush on this girl in my class. Isabel. She was incredibly pretty, with dark hair. Always wore a tight T-shirt that was glued to her skin everywhere except where it dipped in front, so anyone could cop a look down there. It was great. She said she didn’t feel a thing for me. I was too weird. Besides, she was hooked on Marco, who was a good friend of mine. The two of them became a couple. They once got it on in the girls’ lavatory during the summer party. I had to stand outside and keep guard.

It was a thrill. Your youth is the happiest time of your life, I think. Not just school but all the other stuff. Unbeatable experiences. The old guys are right. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have a crush on somebody. I thought girls were great even way back in kindergarten. But I also can’t remember a time when I went out with anyone. I’m too weird, as Isabel would put it. So what the hell is
weird,
anyhow? Is it weird to set off on your friend’s back on a night pilgrimage to the girls? Not to mention up the fire escape. Not to mention with Troy. And Florian a.k.a. Girl. Is it weird for Fat Felix to be wearing a clothespin so his pajama pants don’t fall down? Is Janosch just weird, or is he some kind of weird hero? I wish I didn’t give a shit, and then I could go back to thinking about superheroes again. They’re simpler. It’s hard to figure out girls.
They’re
the weird ones.

The other five guys come to a halt at the end of the corridor. There’s a big window in front of them. Skinny Felix opens it. “We’re here.”

“The fire escape?” I ask.

“Fire escape,” says Janosch.

He bends over to let me down and wobbles a little. Seems about to lose his balance. But he makes it. I can dismount. I have a funny feeling in my legs. As if I hadn’t walked in ages. My back is cold. My pants are sticking to my rear end. I go over to the window and take a look. Janosch, Florian, and the two Felixes join me. They stare out and smoke. Points of red light glow in the darkness. Troy’s behind them. You can hardly see him. His face is in deep shadow. I turn my attention back to the window. It’s more of a glass door. At least one man can get through there. Which is what’s supposed to be the case, since it’s an emergency exit. The casement window moves in the wind. Seems to be blowing like crazy out there. Skinny Felix shouldn’t have opened it yet. The others are still smoking. It’s cold. I’m not smoking; I can do that upstairs. Besides which I have to take care that I don’t start overdoing it. I smoke quite a lot for a sixteen-year-old. Marlboros, of course. Only idiots smoke Camels, says Janosch. And we’re not idiots. My parents always maintain I don’t smoke. They’d keel over if they knew, my mother in particular. She’s in alternative medicine. She says even one cigarette can cause terrifying damage. And she smokes herself. I don’t get it. But that’s how it is with my parents. They keep forbidding me things they either do themselves or used to. Maybe that’s why they fight so often. It’s been getting really bad recently. As the son, you just feel helpless. Empty. It hurts. I often wish they’d separate, then I wouldn’t have to deal with all the shit. But I’m also glad I’ve got them both as support. And as friends. As family, in fact. It’s all so much crap, but it gets to me; I can’t shake it. Doesn’t matter where I am. I love my parents. As a couple, not apart. Holidays together. Good times. Christmas. And fights. More and more fights. Sometimes it’s about my upbringing. Sometimes it’s about their own upbringing. And sometimes it’s just about who should take the goddamn empties back to the supermarket. According to my sister that’s the only reason I got sent off to boarding school: to spare me the fights. Now she’s the one who has to put up with them. All on her own.

I haven’t called home so far. Probably because I’m afraid of my weeping mother. My sister’s at her wits’ end. My worried father. When I was still at home, I always tried to look on the bright side. Nice weather. Good TV program. Being together. I often just swallowed the fights. I still catch myself tuning them out.

Perhaps that’s a good thing. But it gets harder and harder. The whole thing’s for shit. And now I’ve got to climb a fire escape. When I stick my head out the window, the wind blasts into my face and whips my short hair around. The inner courtyard is lit by a small lamp. It’s always on at night, according to Florian. To help the tutors when they’re out
checking.
Checking,
in Neuseelen language, means being caught while up to something illegal. Janosch says
getting checked
is uncrazy. He laughs. The fire escape is a little to one side of the window. Just where you can reach it with a jump to the right. Bottom line is that means I can’t get there. I don’t jump. Let alone a big jump. Not even when there’s a fire. And I’d rather burn up than jump.

Janosch, Felix, and the others flick their cigarette butts down into the inner courtyard. They take a step forward. Janosch sets his right foot on the windowsill and climbs up, the open cigarette pack held between his thumb and forefinger. He lets it drop into his pajama pants, where it makes a rectangular shape against his right side. Sits well. Doesn’t even move when he moves. Janosch is all prepared for the jump.

“Crazy, huh?” he asks triumphantly.

“Not crazy, dumb.” Fat Felix is pissed off. It’s the old song. The two of them collide. As always.

“Crazy and dumb are essentially the same thing anyway,” Janosch whispers, and laughs.

“Essentially—no. In reality—yes,” is Glob’s retort. “And in reality I’m not going up that fire escape again.”

“Me neither.” I add my whisper to the conversation.

“But essentially you’re going to do it, yes?” is what Janosch wants to know. He’s won—it’s over. Further arguments don’t count. Our leader has kicked us in the ass. Fat Felix still tries to disobey orders, but he’s cracking up.

“What if my pants fall down?” he asks despairingly.

“Then this dump of a courtyard will finally have something to look at. It would be great. When the headmaster drags the new kids in here every day to show them around, he tells them they’ve really got something to see. So show it to them!”

Everyone laughs, even Troy, who’s come out of his corner.

The beer is still hidden under his pajama top. It must be warm by now. Janosch waves me over to him on the windowsill. He thinks we should jump one after the other. Like two real heroes. When he gets onto a rung of the ladder, he can pull me over to him without any problem. I don’t have to take a real jump. All the same, I’m afraid. I can’t explain it. Sweat breaks out on my forehead. My knees are trembling. The drop is more than thirty feet. Janosch jumps. In a fraction of a second he’s hanging on the ladder. His feet grope for the lowest rung. It takes more than half a minute for him to secure his footing. He waves.

“I’m afraid of heights. What if I fall?”

“You won’t fall. And if you do, I’ll catch you. I’m here. And if Fat Felix can get his ass in gear, so can you.”

Glob sticks his head out the window. He’s blushing. “I’ll get more than that in gear, but not till I’m upstairs.”

“Sweetheart, I know that,” says Janosch. “So— Benni, you can get going.”

Okay. It can’t be that hard. I jump. There’s a short period when I’m hanging in the air. Then I seize Janosch’s hand. He guides me safely to a rung of the ladder. We climb a little higher. Florian jumps. He needs space. My left side has problems in store. I should add that I never climb anything. I only have to see a ladder and I panic. My left foot keeps getting caught in the rungs of the ladder. My left hand keeps losing its grip. The higher I go, the worse it is. I’m very high now. Barefoot, of course. The ladder’s made of steel. Each step on the round rungs hurts. With luck I’ll be at the top soon. All this just for the girls, I think. Some people would say I’ll never need a girl. And on my second night, here I am hanging desperately off a castle wall, trying to get to them. That’s the way it is, according to Janosch. It’s right. We need girls, that’s all. Like light or oxygen. All of us. Even Glob. Why, God knows. Now Glob jumps. One hand is clutching his pants, the other a rung of the ladder. He gives a sigh of relief. Does Troy need girls too? It’s his turn to jump. It doesn’t seem to be much of a problem for him. We’re all here. Janosch thinks Troy will get interested in the girls. He has to. After all, he thinks Uma Thurman is sensational. Although in Florian’s opinion she’s lacking in the chest department. The only time she looked really good was in that skintight costume in
Batman.
Next to the fire escape there’s a plaque. I climb past it. It’s set into the stone with four silver nails. The plaque itself is bronze.

THIS IS A FIRE ESCAPE MISUSE OF ANY KIND IS PUNISHABLE BY LAW

I swallow.

Okay. I’ll soon be at the top. I see the window in the girls’ corridor. Janosch has almost reached it. It’s open. The casement is moving in the wind. Janosch grabs for the windowsill.

“I’ve got a question,” says Skinny Felix as we pull him into the girls’ corridor. He’s shivering a bit, twitching here and there. Maybe he should have been wearing more.

“So ask,” says Janosch encouragingly, shoving his glasses back up on his nose. They’d fallen down his face during the climb.

“Do you think anyone’s been tracking all this? And if they have, will they praise us later for being so brave?”

He means it. He sounds preoccupied. Maybe also a touch of skepticism in his voice but fundamentally genuine. Skinny Felix is smart. I don’t often hear him kidding around. Glob says he’s our philosopher. I think he’s right, there.

“Who do you mean in particular?” asks Florian a.k.a. Girl.

“God, maybe. Do you think anyone up there watches us?”

“Nobody watches us,” says Florian.

“So why are we doing all this shit then?” is what Felix wants to know.

“Maybe just because nobody’s watching,” says Girl.

“But shouldn’t that make us all shit-scared of life?” is Felix’s next question.

“Well, we are,” says Janosch. “Every step is a struggle.”

“You looked pretty casual hanging off that ladder,” says Glob.

“I won’t achieve everything I want, but I’m going to try everything I can,” is Janosch’s retort.

“What’s that got to do with fear of life?” says Glob.

“A great deal. Don’t ask me why. Maybe the constant feeling of wanting to achieve something.”

“Have you achieved anything yet?” I ask.

“Come on! I just climbed the ladder with you and Glob! You think that’s not an achievement?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“So what did you mean?”

“Whether life has anything in store for you,” I say severely.

“Lebert—I’m sixteen. Not three hundred and four: there’s lots in store for me. Do you see that room over there that says MALEN SABEL, ANNA MÄRZ, AND MARIE HANGERL?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what’s in store for me next! And tomorrow there’ll be something else. Like French, for example. Or math. That’s youth.”

“Youth is shit,” says Glob. “There’s far too little time. You’re always supposed to be doing something. Why?”

“Because otherwise you’d leave it till tomorrow,” says Skinny Felix. “But you can’t leave whatever it is till tomorrow. While you’re putting it off, your life goes by.”

“Where does it say that?” asks Florian.

“In books, I think,” says Skinny Felix.

“In books? I thought what was in books was stuff like when the Second World War happened. Or the difference between a main clause and a subordinate clause.”

“That’s all in books,” says Skinny Felix. “But some books just tell you what life is like.”

“And what’s life like?” says Glob.

“Profound.”

Everyone grins.

“Are we profound too?” asks Janosch.

“Don’t know. I think right now we’re in a phase where we’re still looking for the thread. Once we’ve found it, we’re profound too.”

“I don’t get it.” Florian is scandalized. “So what are we before we’re profound?”

“I think we’re seekers of the thread. That’s what youth is—one big thread hunt.”

“Youth’s still shit,” says Janosch.

“Though—I think I’d rather be a thread seeker than profound. Life’s too complicated.”

“Yes,” says Florian, “but girls are hot.”