Crumbs (21 page)

The top two buttons on his jacket were undone. He was pointing to the thick hair on his chest, which was bursting out of the jacket.

‘Is what straight?' I asked.

‘This, for fuck's sake.'

He kept pointing to his chest. To where his neck joined the rest of his body. I leaned forward, straining my eyes.

‘I can't see anything. Do you mean the jacket?'

‘No Egon, no. The hair. Can't you see? I bought it in Italy. It's like a sticker. You just put it on. They sell it by the metre.'

To show me what he meant, he pulled the hair away with his fingers. It really was stuck on. It came away like wallpaper.

‘Now tell me, is it straight? I don't want to look like a fool.'

‘It's straight, Ibro, it's stuck in a perfectly straight line.'

‘Egon, I'm going now.'

We shook hands.

‘Good luck, Ibro.'

He turned and took a step. I called him.

‘What?'

I put my hand on his shoulder.

‘Take care!'

He nodded. Pressed his lips together.

He went.

We broke into laughter. Everybody. I explained the
situation quickly and we jumped onto the parallel bars by the wall.

We didn't want to miss a second.

Ibro was making his way towards Ajsha, who'd just declined a dance. Both her friends were already dancing. He stepped in front of her and his body hid her from us. We stretched our necks. Ajsha got up and went to the exit.

Ibro stood there for another minute and then walked towards us. We waited for him in a tense silence.

We surrounded him.

‘Well, what happened?' I asked.

‘I couldn't get anything out of me. I was opening my mouth and not one word came out. Oh, God!!!' He sobbed. ‘Ooooh God!!!'

He went to Punky and took the bottle out of his pocket.

There was about another half litre of the clear liquid in it. He put the bottle to his mouth and when he put it down again, it was empty. He stood there looking in the direction of his defeat. He let go of the bottle. It rattled on the floor.

He fell like a tree.

We picked him up and put him on the bench. We covered his face with a hat.

‘I didn't know you could buy chest hair per metre,' Punky broke the silence. We were looking at each other not knowing whether to start laughing or crying. The other boys were waiting to see what their boss would do.

‘Where do you find them?' he shook his head in the end.

‘Fuck it, remember where you and I met.'

He grinned.

‘Let's leave him in peace. Have you got that cassette of yours with you?'

‘I have.'

I always carry it with me when I go to a dance. It might come in handy one day.

‘Shall we change the music?' I asked innocently.

Everybody was for it. The bass was still drumming. Over it a colourless women's choir was hooting.

We entered the storeroom, which was temporarily acting as a studio. The schoolboys raised their heads.

‘Get out. You're not authorized to come in here' one of them said. He didn't make it sound like an order.

I took the cassette out of my pocket and gave it to Punky.

‘Side A.'

‘Yeah, I do still remember.'

He walked over to the cassette player and turned it off. He put my cassette in and started playing it from the beginning. A cacophony of whistling could be heard from the gym.

‘What are you doing?' asked the schoolboy and grabbed Punky's upper arm.

He just punched the boy in the face without even turning around. The other two were dealt with by the boys. The cassette stopped.

The whistling in the gym got even louder.

Punky turned the cassette player on again. It started. We shook with the rhythm. A friend of the three boys lying on the floor looked in and opened his mouth for a question. He had it shut with a boot.

We were shouting the chorus at each other. Dancing on our vibrating toes. A group of workers from the foundry marched in.

‘What sort of crap is this, you motherfuckers? Give us Madonna. Now! Do you hear?'

We did hear and we were surprised. Who did they
want?

Punky started looking through the cassettes. He couldn't find Madonna. He gave the worker a kick in the groin. The man's friends didn't look very pleased. People started fighting left right and centre. The punks drove the workers out of the room. Other people thought it was a fight based on nationality and joined in. I was making my way to the wall. The whole gym was one big fighting ring. Somebody launched at me. I kicked him in the balls with all my strength and ran away.

A few metres in front of the locker room I spotted Ajsha. She was holding hands with some good-looking guy. They were running in my direction.

Directly above me was a basketball hoop on a wooden board. I waited for a gap between the escaping bodies, jumped up, and grabbed hold of the hoop.

I swung. Mr. Handsome came nearer. I kicked forward, let go of the hoop, and hit his right cheek with my foot. He didn't offer his left cheek. He folded like a tie into a bowl of soup.

A rattle and a squeak could be heard from above. The hoop fell down. I pushed Ajsha out of the way. The wooden boards shattered on the parquet floor. The hands of those fighting grabbed them immediately and struck at each other.

I took hold of her hand and pulled her towards me. I put my left arm around her and started making towards the exit. She followed me willingly. The locker room was a bottle neck between those running out and those eager to fight, storming in so as not to miss out. We were moving slowly, a few steps forward and then back again, depending on which side had more people taking part at each point. From the middle, I forced my way through to the wall and
then started moving slowly along it, holding Ajsha's hand.

The bodies weren't so dense there; the worst fights were taking place in the middle.

A mirror covered the whole wall. From floor to ceiling. Boxer was sobbing with his face against the mirror.

‘Out of my way! Let me out! What've I done to you? I want out! I've had enough of this meeting.'

In his younger days he'd been an ardent functionary, the president of the youth organisation. A moustached Komsomol. Sometimes the drink would take him back to the days of his youth. Like this time. I was surprised at the liveliness of those bygone meetings. For a moment I regretted never having taken part in one.

‘Let me out!' He raised his voice. ‘I'm warning you for the last time, let me out. Otherwise I'm going to hit you!'

The reflection in the mirror was still trying to catch him. Boxer started to strike. But he had no real strength. His hands were soft due to drink. The mirror remained whole.

Whichever way he tried to manoeuvre, whichever punch he tried to use, he always hit his opponent's fist. He gave up. Leaned against his reflection and moaned. A bottle flew past my head and broke off the top of the mirror.

A diagonal crack appeared down to the floor.

I could see my image becoming distorted. The two halves were shaking. I let go of Ajsha's hand. I stood in front of the mirror, my left hand up in the air, my right hand on my heart. I started reciting, ‘Mirror crack'd from side to side…'

Ajsha looked at me with horror and incomprehension.

I mumbled over the forgotten line but finished the next one in full voice:

‘…the Lady of Shalott cried!'

A second bottle finally shattered the mirror. It broke into fragments and scattered on the floor.

Strange that they don't love Lord Tennyson around here. I turned to Ajsha, took her hand, and smiled encouragingly.

We squeezed into a corner and waited. The stream of those eager to fight was slowly subsiding. The direction of movement through the locker room changed slowly. Those running away were winning.

I looked into the gym. A magnificent, huge, megalomaniacal fight. The other basketball hoop was shattered, too. In the corner on the left, four muscular guys were holding Ibro in their arms, swinging him and smashing his head against the wall. Selim stormed in from somewhere and started hitting them.

‘Let's go!' I shouted to Ajsha and pulled her after me. We made our way to the exit along the wall where the glass fragments were on the floor. On the way I tapped Boxer on the shoulder, turned him the other way, and told him to run out. He went like a bulldozer. We sheltered behind him. In the middle of the corridor he lost his bearings and stormed into the bathrooms. We went forward. Wanting to get out of the building.

A siren could be heard from outside. The police came pouring in through the door. Wearing different uniforms than usual. With long batons. They were striking everywhere.

I pulled Ajsha to the right, up the stairs. The passage was blocked by desks. We jumped over them and got to the top in the dark.

I listened to see if anybody was following us. I couldn't hear anybody. They must've been too busy downstairs.

I pushed a small steel door, and we found ourselves in the attic. Full of old junk. Broken desks, placards, and decorations from various festivals.

I sat on a desk. Wiped the dust off for Ajsha. I offered her a cigarette.

We smoked slowly.

After the third puff, a barrage of words came pouring from her. About the madmen and maniacs surrounding us. I interrupted her and asked if she remembered the scarecrow in a cowboy outfit who'd asked her for a dance.

‘Of course. He was the worst. I was looking at the floor and suddenly a pair of winkle-pickers appeared in front of me. I didn't want to look up at all. I was waiting for him to go. He didn't. I looked at him, I can't remember anymore what he looked like, and I saw him staring at me opening his mouth. Like a fish. At first I thought that he had something stuck in his throat. Or that he was suffocating. Then I thought he was going to throw up. I ran away. What if he'd dirtied my one-month-old blouse or shoes. I bought them in Italy. I'd said to myself I had to wear something red…'

I was looking around. The moonlight shone through a large round glassless window in the middle of the wall, making the room appear blue.

Ajsha suggested we leave.

There was no point. We had to wait. We'd fall straight into their hands. I couldn't get rid of the feeling that she was at the same time frightened of me and attracted to me.

I stepped towards the window and looked out. The grass and road in front of the building were littered with Black Marias. A few ambulances among them. One fire engine.

They were well trained, I had to give them that. A Black
Maria would park its arse against the door. The policemen would throw in the participants of the dance. When it was full, it would drive away. And the next one would come to be loaded.

I made room for Ajsha. She leaned on the window ledge. I was leaning over her. Shoulder-length hair. Pushed behind the ear on the left side, falling free on the right. The white of her neck divided it into two.

Everybody downstairs made their way through the glass. With or without help. Ibro was carried out. They beat him longer than the others. His hat was nowhere to be seen, his winkle-pickers were missing, too.

Selim launched through the door and hit a policeman. The blue uniforms covered him completely.

I moved my eyes to the neck below me. The fine hairs at the edge of her scalp continued in a small triangle down her back.

I pursed my lips and put them on her neck. I teased the hairs with the tip of my tongue.

She trembled and pressed herself against me. I circled her hips with my hands. My open palms slowly travelled across the whole of her back up to the shoulders. She wasn't wearing a bra.

Over the edge of her ear with my tongue. A gentle, short nibble of her earlobe.

My palms slid down her arms. Our fingers intertwined tightly.

I bent in front of her and we kissed. I undid her buttons.

I kissed her shoulders and continued down her back. My chin pushed the material away.

Her blouse fell on the floor.

I removed her camisole on the way back up. She turned
around.

I took off my jacket and T-shirt. Slowly our bodies touched.

The music from the gym stopped. The police must have advanced to the middle.

I dropped to my knees. My tongue swirled around her navel. In the meantime, I undid her jeans. I pulled her panties down to the middle of her thighs with my teeth. It said LOVE on them. I kissed the two hearts next to the letters.

With my nose I ploughed my way through her pubic hair above the opening. Pushed into it with my tongue. I could feel her wetness on my cheeks and chin. In my mouth a taste of her juices. A hint of urine.

I toyed with her clitoris. She grabbed my ears and squeezed them between her nails until they bled. Naughty boys deserve that.

I could hear her breathing deep and fast. The thumping of my heart. The occasional slam of the door on a Black Maria.

I took off my trousers and underpants. I lifted her by her arse to just the right height. She wrapped her legs around hips.

We fell over together on top of a huge red panel. Large polystyrene letters squeaked under our rhythmic motion. I pulled my prick out and continued with my fingers. I didn't want to come too soon.

I waited until she was just about to orgasm before I penetrated her deeply again. She bit into my thumb. Her body flexed and she surrendered with a long AAAAAAAA. I pulled my prick out again and moved it lower down, between her thighs. She squeezed it firmly. I pushed a few more times and ejaculated onto the polystyrene.

We lay there embracing. My thumb traced the outline of her body. Up and down. Slowly. Gently.

Everything was quiet outside.

We got dressed and stood in each other's arms by the window, smoking. The grass and the road in front of the school were empty. Tyre marks could be seen on the ground. Only those with very good eyesight would still be able to see the hedge.

We threw the stubs down. Went to the exit. I looked at the letters on the panel. It said VICTORY.