Noura stands up.
Come on, she says to Jameelah, but Jameelah doesn’t move, she just sits on her chair with her arms crossed and a blank look on her face. Cautiously I sit down next to her.
Did you hear that, I say, you don’t have anything to worry about. Everything’s going to be fine.
Like in slow motion Jameelah turns her head in my direction. I wince.
Traitor, she whispers while glaring at me. If looks could kill.
Ramadan has arrived. I actually like Ramadan, the men sit zonked out on the benches in front of convenience stores and do nothing but fiddle with their strings of beads with their eyes closed and wait for the sun to finally go down.
It’s funny in school. Half the class is hungry and does stupid shit. Orkhan and Tayfun keep having short outbursts. Today Orkhan tipped his chair over backwards and smashed into the wooden map of Germany the class has been working on and it fell to the floor with a huge crash and when the entire class started laughing Frau Struck was so irate that I thought for a second she was going to keel over.
Everyone is agitated the way only Jessi is normally but then it gets dark and the lights go on all over the city and it’s absolutely silent in the streets, all you hear is the faint sound of laughter and clinking dishes wafting out of windows. Then people start streaming out of the buildings, the women carrying Tupperware containers, people wishing each other happy holidays and the best part is that the children are allowed to stay awake as long as they want. Ramadan is like a month of New Year’s Eves, just with no fireworks. Normally I like it. Normally Jameelah comes by in the evening and brings a plate of rice with raisins and roasted carrots. We sit on the balcony and stuff ourselves, drink Tiger Milk out of a chocolate Müller milk container so Mama doesn’t notice, and think up A-words. Ramadan is an A-word so when it’s Ramadan we take a Ramadan from O-words and switch to A-words, which is tougher, but it’s alright, steering becomes staring not storing and Anna-Lena is Frieda Gaga instead of Frieda Giga, which suits her better anyway and I think Jameelah would agree but this year she and I can’t agree on a single thing because this year we don’t spend a single evening on the balcony together speaking in A-words, Jameelah and I don’t speak to each other at all anymore.
I’m standing in front of Frau Stanitzek’s store with my swim things in a bag smoking a Pall Mall I stole from Rainer. The sun is shining. I don’t like standing here, I look over at the entrance to the building. Where is Amir, I don’t want Jameelah to turn up and see me standing here, I think, making circles in the dirt on the pavement with my flip-flops, but on the other hand if she did turn up I could try one last time to speak to her normally, though the note she left, that was bad, what are you supposed to say to somebody like that.
Don’t ring my doorbell you backstabbing Schwein, I’ve already left is what she wrote on the note she taped to her door on the first day of school. And then at school, with the new seating chart, it was the same thing. Ever since we could read and write Jameelah and I have sat next to each other, me on the right and Jameelah on the left so that our writing hands wouldn’t knock into each other. Frau Struck tried to separate us now and then but it never lasted, we always ended up sitting next to each other again in the end, first in Wittner’s class then in all the other classes and then finally in Struck’s class too but not this year, this year when we all pushed the desks together into pairs during the first period after summer break and Struck said you two up here to me and Jameelah so I can keep an eye on you, Jameelah just shook her head and said I don’t want to be next to her.
The school year is starting well, said Frau Struck smiling a broad smile, she was suddenly in a great mood. She put Jameelah in the last row and me all the way up front.
And did you have nice summer holidays, Struck asked once we were all seated, she was tanned from her holiday in Africa. I just stared straight ahead. The seat next to me was empty.
Where is Amir, Frau Struck asked, is he going to be late already on the first day of school?
Nobody said a word. Frau Struck didn’t know anything, the whole thing had passed her by while she was down in South Africa and she hadn’t had enough time in the teachers’ lounge yet to hear the news. Jameelah raised her hand at some point.
He won’t be here until tomorrow, she said.
All of a sudden somebody shoves me. Jameelah’s standing in front of me on the pavement and staring at me with an evil look.
What are you doing here?
Waiting for Amir, I say.
Wait someplace else if you don’t mind.
I can wait here if I feel like it.
Snitches are not allowed to stand around in front of my door, says Jameelah.
This isn’t your door and I’m no snitch either.
Yes you are.
No I’m not.
I hope you die, says Jameelah spitting on the ground.
Come on, I say.
Come on nothing.
Watch yourself, I say.
What for, says Jameelah, do you think I’m afraid of you or something she says and spits on the ground again.
The spit lands right next to one of my flip-flops.
One more time, I say, and there’s going to be trouble.
Jameelah laughs out loud.
Trouble? I’d love to see that you backstabbing Schwein.
She spits again, this time on my bare foot.
Bam.
Just like that. I don’t think it over, my brain turns completely off and it feels unbelievably good, my brain is completely shut down and bam, my fist is in Jameelah’s face, bam, it’s lightning fast, Nico taught me how, you never know when you might need it he said, left, left, right, left, left, right on his punching bag. This time I go straight for a right but Jameelah isn’t a punching bag and as she falls down I already feel bad.
Sorry, I say, sorry sorry.
I put out my hand but then she’s standing next to me already and in the next second her long nails jam into my cheek. I scream in pain and try to punch her but Jameelah holds my wrist and knees me in the stomach and then I’m lying with my face in the dirt on the pavement a few inches from a big pile of dog shit. I try to pull her down while on my back and for a second it’s working but as I start to roll over she gets on top of me and pins my upper arms with her knees.
Snitch! Pig! she screams.
Stop, I scream.
Backstabbing Schwein!
Stop, you’re going to break my arms, I scream and then I hear someone call out.
Stop right now both of you!
I’d love to stop but since Jameelah doesn’t stop I don’t stop either and then comes water, wet and ice cold, and I frantically try to catch my breath.
Who are you, shouts Amir, he’s standing next to us on the pavement with a red bucket in his hand, are you dogs or are you my friends?
One of my flip-flops is broken and my bag with my swimming gear has opened up and my bathing suit, sunscreen, cigarettes, and tampons are strewn about the pavement. My face is burning and my arms are killing me.
I’m not going along with this any longer, shouts Amir, you guys need to make up, you hear me!
Slowly I stand up.
Fine by me, I say, I’d love to.
Jameelah looks at me, her hair is all crazy and blood is dripping from her lip onto her tank-top. For a second I think she’s going to put out her hand to shake but she just picks up her bag from the ground and says never and then walks off toward the playground.
Wait, I call after her but Jameelah doesn’t turn around. In my mouth I taste sand. I spit on the ground.
Nice way to say hi, says Amir grimacing.
Sorry.
The pain in my arms slowly subsides but my face still burns.
How are you doing, I ask.
Good.
Are things working out, I ask. I mean, with everything?