Maya and Domenico: The story of an amazing friendship E-Book

Susanne Wittpennig

• Herausgeber: Fontis AG
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Seitenzahl: 362

Beschreibung

Eine wunderbare Lovestory 'between lanterns and roses' für Englisch-Liebhaber und Englisch-Lernende. Just smashing! Die 13-jährige Maya kann sich in ihrer Klasse nicht durchsetzen. Ihre drei Erzfeindinnen Delia, Manuela und Isabelle lassen keine Gelegenheit aus, sie zu triezen. Und da ist der machthungrige André, der mit seinen Kumpels ständig für Unruhe sorgt. Außerdem wird sie zu Hause vom strengen Vater unter Druck gesetzt. Doch Mayas Leben wird auf den Kopf gestellt, als der freche, angeberische Domenico neu in die Klasse kommt. Das ist das, was ihr gerade noch gefehlt hat: Domenico sieht einerseits so gut aus, dass sie in seiner Gegenwart weiche Knie bekommt. Andererseits ist er ihr ein wenig ungeheuer. Trotzdem kommt Maya dem mysteriösen Jungen aus Sizilien viel, viel näher als je gedacht.

Leseprobe

Susanne Wittpennig Maya and Domenico:

To my sisters Aline and Julia

The author's website:www.schreibegern.ch

Susanne Wittpennig

Maya and Domenico:

The story of an amazing friendship

Bibliografische Information der Deutschen NationalbibliothekDie Deutsche Nationalbibliothek verzeichnet diese Publikation in der Deutschen Nationalbibliografie; detaillierte bibliografische Daten sind im Internet über www.dnb.de abrufbar.

This book was first published in German under the title: «Maya und Domenico: Die krasse Geschichte einer ungewöhnlichen Freundschaft» by Susanne Wittpennig © 2004 by Fontis – Brunnen Basel

Translation into English by Regina Kolb and Sara Saltalamacchia

© 2015 by Fontis – Brunnen Basel

Cover: spoon design, Olaf Johannson, Langgöns Cover pictures: Andrei K, Jordi Vic Robles/Shutterstock.com Ebook preparations: InnoSet AG, Justin Messmer, Basel Ebook production: Textwerkstatt Jäger, Marburg

ISBN (EPUB) 978-3-03848-732-6

Contents

1. Glad tidings

2. The lantern in the forest

3. Domenico

4. Mister Universe

5. Strange incidents

6. Andrew's revenge

7. The darkness in his eyes

8. A triumph at dodge ball

9. His secret

10. The forbidden spire

11. Three friends

12. Janet's vicious rumour

13. First love

14. A crazy dare

15. What is going on with him?

16. The other side of the park

17. A nightmare

18. A stormy night

19. Mrs Galiani knows it all

20. A new light

I would like to thank

About the Author

1. Glad tidings

Honestly: until I turned fourteen, nothing much ever happened in my life. Nearly everything was just as it should be. I grew up well protected, was taught appropriate manners and wasn't very keen on school. That was me and I always dreamt that something would change. But I didn't quite know what.

And then, this story happened. All of a sudden, I was no longer invisible and I had to come face to face with life. This story now has a special place in my heart and, today, makes me laugh and cry at the same time.

When I tore Sunday's sheet with its red letters from my calendar, all that was waiting behind it was another boring Monday in black letters. There was no sign of the sensational news that would change my life on that particular Monday.

I dragged myself across the schoolyard in my worst mood. Those cheerfully singing birds had a nice life; they didn't know what tortures were waiting for anyone entering the school building. Neither did the sun, which was stretching its soft rays onto this slightly odd, old building with its green turrets. Many generations of students had walked through those gates and had survived school, I guess. That was a comforting thought – somehow.

The classes of secondary school had their classrooms in the front wing of the building. Twelve classes spread over three floors. The cool hallways smelled of floor polish, chalk and dusty paper, and last year, in a misguided attempt to add a bit of colour, the doors to all classrooms had been painted bright orange.

I hurried over to the girls' toilets and stood in front of the mirror. Right above my head, there was a message written with pink lipstick in Delia's squiggly handwriting: «Kiss me!» And beneath it, a heart-shaped mark of a kiss. Mumbling in disgust, I got out a tissue and rubbed the tacky piece of art off. The face I was looking at in the mirror could only be described as average. I mean, I did have a few pretty attributes, like my big brown eyes, for example. They shone like polished chestnuts. And those cute freckles, dancing on my nose when I smiled. But that was about it. The rest of me was entirely plain and ordinary. My hair had the matt brown colour of tree bark and it was long and straight, no waves or anything that would have made it more interesting. I had tried to change it with Mum's hairspray once or twice, but it had always ended up hanging down in its usual dull way again, parted in the middle.

Delia and Isabelle did not look dull, at all, and they were much prettier than me. Delia's face was heart-shaped, just like her lips, and she had bright blue eyes with long lashes. Isabelle had a cute little nose and a bold, pointy chin that made her look very self-confident. There was nothing bold about my face, everything was flat and dull and round. I always wore my hair down so that it covered my ears, because Delia had once said that they looked like chimpanzee's ears. I would have liked to have had earrings, ever since primary school; really big cool silver earrings. But Dad would have none of that nonsense. He was absolutely against anything that would change the natural state of the body. Ears were not supposed to have holes. He probably thought that way because he was a doctor with his heart and soul.

I looked at my watch: it was half past seven. I pulled a long face, because it was high time I went into the chamber of torture.

Our classroom was on the top floor, room number 308, in the hall on the left, third door. I straightened my back and pulled my head up when I walked in. Do not show your insecurity, Maya, act as though you were really confident. Yes, that is right – yep, nobody noticed you …

I walked towards my desk in the back row and scanned the room with my eyes, looking for Delia Samantha. Yes, Samantha was really her middle name and she was incredibly proud of it. Her younger sister was called Linda Anastasia and she was in 6b. She was just as pretty as Delia, but the two sisters were never seen together.

Delia was standing at the open window with her two best friends Manuela and Isabelle, shaking her shiny blond hair. She was wearing a black top with glittery sequins. The top was cropped of course, so everyone could see her belly button piercing. And it was matched with low-cut jeans and a broad silver belt. All my tops were long enough to cover my bum; my dad would never have allowed me to wear clothes like Delia's. He always said that girls who dressed like that would end up as prostitutes. And Delia actually had had a lot of boyfriends, already. Boys never fancied me, and I didn't have a clue how to attract their attention. Who would want to even be friends with the outsider of 8a? I sat down at my desk, rested my head on my hands and waited for the bell to ring.

Danny and Ronnie had just finished their Godzilla drawing on the blackboard when the rusty bell rang and Evelyn, who had been standing at the door, shouted: «She's coming!»

Immediately, everyone ran back to their seats, Danny and Ronnie quickly wiped their stupid picture off the board and hurried back to their desks. Our form teacher was not someone to be trifled with. For some reason, Mrs Galiani had changed classes with Mr Lenz today. Just what I needed! In her classes, you had to be alert the whole time. Nothing escaped her keen eye.

She was fairly tall and looked sturdy; there was nothing much feminine about her. Her hair was cut short and she always wore jeans and trainers, even in the summer. She had a weathered face with a distinctive chin that gave her a hard, taunting look. There was a deep furrow between her eyebrows that became more pronounced depending on her state of alarm, and her sharp voice always got everyone's attention. But she was always very fair and we did learn a lot from her.

A short time after she'd said good morning and started the lesson, the door opened again. A small blond chubby boy slipped into the room. He kept his gaze on the ground and silently sat down at his desk. Mrs Galiani looked at him briefly but didn't say anything. She knew very well that Patrick was late every morning on purpose. This way he could avoid the others' bullying before the lessons began. So Mrs Galiani tolerated it.

With a sigh, I resigned myself to the fact that it was Monday again and was relieved that I didn't get picked.

In the short break before the next lesson, I wanted to write down the stack of homework Mrs Galiani had given us, but I didn't manage to. Delia staggered towards me in her heels and I could smell the cloud of her perfume coming closer.

«Aw, sweet little Maya! Make sure you don't forget anything! Wouldn't want to disappoint your daddy!»

«That is none of your business!» I mumbled awkwardly. Delia was not good at school, but of course that was not what counted. She was pretty enough to make up for it.

She sniggered and went back to her friends Isabelle and Manuela. They put their heads together and giggled and whispered and were watching every move I made with their heavily made-up eyes. I turned my gaze away and looked out of the window, trying to hide the tears that always flowed much too easily.

I only turned around again when the boys started to make their stupid comments. They moved closer to Patrick, like vultures circling their prey: the tall chunky Andrew and his two buddies Danny and Ronnie. Andrew was a six-foot-one hulk with size 10 feet, and he loved bullying weaker students.

I felt so sorry for Patrick. Not only was he small and chubby, but he had quite a bad stutter. Even though he was one year younger than everyone else, he was much more intelligent, because he loved reading. And he was unbeatable at maths. Which he had to pay for in PE classes; with his build he couldn't even do the easiest things.

«Right, fatty,» Andrew started, «where is that maths homework then? Get it out! Where is it?»

«It's in m-m-my b-bag,» Patrick whispered in agony.

«Oho!» Danny picked up Patrick's bag and poured the entire contents out on the floor.

«There it is!» He lifted a blue notebook with a carefully glued on picture of a Lufthansa airplane and threw it down onto the desk so violently that it flew right off it again. Patrick let it all happen without looking up.

«Hey, you fat pilot! The airplane's gonna crash under your weight!» scoffed Andrew, who was probably quite a lot heavier than Patrick himself. But he obviously didn't understand that with his pea of a brain.

I was boiling with rage, but I would never have had the courage to step in. Mrs Galiani had told Patrick very clearly that he would have to stand up for himself, that nobody else could do that for him. She had taken a lot of time to try and help him; she had sent him to self-help classes to strengthen his self-esteem. But Patrick didn't have a dad who could have shown him how to stand his ground as a man. He had died in a plane crash shortly after Patrick was born. And Patrick just wasn't a fighter, but the friendliest creature you could have imagined.

Finally, the bell put an end to his agony. Patrick sniffed and crept around the room to gather his things. I smiled at him discreetly but he didn't see me.

The next lessons were Maths and English, followed by the long break. I wandered sluggishly onto the schoolyard and sat down on the low wall next to the old lime tree, where I always sat the break out by myself. Nobody was by themselves except for me. Everyone else seemed to be part of a group of people they hung out with, laughed, talked and had fun. I had tried to talk to them many times – a while ago. I had tried to become part of those groups, but every time I got closer, there seemed to be an invisible wall building up, and I couldn't get through.

So I spent my time studying the small groups, and soon I knew exactly who was hanging out with whom. There was only one girl who was by herself a lot as well: Janet Bonaventura. She was famous, because she always caused trouble and nobody dared get near her. But that seemed to suit her; she didn't seem to want anyone around her. The rumour was that she was the leader of a gang outside school, that she was a drug dealer and a burglar. Some even said that she was a witch. With her green cat's eyes she screened the schoolyard suspiciously and I knew that she was observing everything, just like me. Even though she had different reasons for it.

I would probably have remained «invisible» forever and I would at least have had my peace if the thing with the Bible hadn't happened one day. I thought that if I took the Bible to school with me, God would always be really close. It was a small book of the New Testament and it fitted perfectly into the pocket of my jacket. When I was wandering on the schoolyard by myself, I could slip my hand into my pocket and feel the soft leather cover. But one day, Andrew had nicked my jacket and thrown it right through the classroom. The Bible had fallen out and onto the floor for everyone to see.

And from that day on, I was the weirdo, the religious one who just didn't fit in anywhere. From that day on, I didn't dare take the Bible to school anymore, even though I never quite understood why other girls who wore lucky charms or believed in horoscopes weren't disrespected. Or Ronnie, who had a passion for aliens and was always talking about «Star Wars». He kept thinking that he had seen UFOs in the sky. That was weird too, wasn't it?

At the end of the fifth lesson, Mrs Galiani surprised us with sensational news: «Tomorrow, a new student will join your class. He was at the Leonhardt School before and will repeat his eighth year with us.»

Her words were drowned in a wave of hooting and the ringing of the bell.

«Hey girls, did you hear that? We're getting a new one!» Delia gushed, drumming her hands on the desk excitedly. «We could definitely do with a cute guy! Would make a change from those baby faces!»

Andrew looked at her angrily, and I really felt like grabbing her and pushing her cute little face right into the middle of the dates of the Second World War on the blackboard, so that she'd be covered in chalk. I truly hoped the new student would be ugly and that he'd have a ridiculous name like Ludger Edelkötter.

«What are you looking at, you little saint?» Delia, hands on hips, snapped right into my face. «The way you look, the new guy will probably start puking straight away when he sees you!»

«Ha, ha, ha! He's probably called Ludger Edelkötter!» I replied clumsily and even got muddled at the end of the sentence. Delia, Isabelle and Manuela looked at each other and then laughed out loud. «Did you hear that? Ludger Edelwhat …!?»

«How cute!»

«Aw, poor little girl. Are you a bit jealous because you look so stupid that you'll never get a guy?» Delia's voice was full of mockery. Manuela and Isabelle were giggling, throwing their hair back arrogantly. And there it went, that tiny bit of courage I had built up and I hung my head, beaten. The three girls jeered triumphantly and staggered out of the room with swaying hips and their heads up high. I watched them sadly and angrily. Why did it always end like this?

2. The lantern in the forest

My home was only a fifteen minute walk from school in an exclusive area of the city. Our street was lined with beautiful magnolias; it was sunny and looked very peaceful. I was living in a big white house with a pretty well-kept garden. It was my mum's pride. My dad worked right next to the house in his own practice. It was well-known and booked out most of the time, so that Dad could barely take up new patients. Most people knew Doctor Fischer, because Dad had been on television and radio a few times. And a health guide had published an article by him. My mum had the theory that the other girls at school were jealous, because I was so privileged, but I didn't really believe that.

When I came home, Mum was usually making lunch. I generally got on really well with her, and she allowed a lot more than Dad. She kissed my cheek when I walked into the house and threw my jacket onto the clothes stand. «So, how was school, my big girl?»

«Rubbish!»

Mum was worried about me, because my class didn't respect me. Mrs Galiani had tried to send me to one of those self-help courses too, but I would have felt ridiculous. Self-help groups – they were for people with real problems, for complete losers. And I wasn't that bad, right?

We had talked about me changing classes once or twice, but Dad was worried that my education would suffer from that. A competent teacher like Mrs Galiani was not easy to be found, he said.

Dad arrived home shortly after me. When I heard his key unlock the door I raced to the clothes stand like lightening to hang up my jacket properly. To Dad, tidiness was a major issue and I couldn't stand his sermons. So I made sure he didn't have a reason to preach.

As he walked into the kitchen with a smile, he looked hungry. I think you could see that he was a doctor straight away even if you didn't know. His round metal-rimmed glasses and his full brown beard made him look like the typical good-natured, nice doctor.

«Hello, my girls! How are the two of you?»

«Fine. And you?» Mum and I replied at the same time.

«It was a busy morning and now I'm very tired. I'm lucky I could even get out to have lunch with you. Esther, could you maybe lend me a hand this afternoon?»

Mum worked part-time in Dad's practice; either in the morning or in the afternoon, depending on how much work he had. She was a doctor too; my parents had met and fallen in love at med school.

Five minutes later, we all sat at the table and said grace before we tugged into roast beef and mashed potatoes. Mum loved cooking and she was very good at it. She always made sure we had a varied diet.

I was relieved that Dad didn't ask anything about school today. To him, school was all that mattered. I knew his stories about his life as a student and his successful graduation by heart but he never grew tired of telling them again and again. His biggest wish was for me to follow in his footsteps and take over his practice one day. But I didn't know whether I even wanted to be a doctor.

We sat silent for a while, and I studied my parents' faces, wondering from which of them I had inherited my big nose. I probably had it from Dad, because Mum's nose was small. I was happy that my parents never argued when we were having lunch together, unlike other parents. Isabelle, for example, always told everyone with an annoyed expression how her parents were fighting all the time. Maybe that was why she was so aggressive. My parents hardly ever had an argument; sometimes I even wondered what they were talking about when I wasn't around. Mum was always much quieter when Dad was around.

All of a sudden, I remembered the big news: «We're getting a new student tomorrow!»

«Are you?» – «Mrs Galiani told us today.» – «In the middle of the semester? That's a bit odd!» Dad didn't sound very happy about it.

«He used to go to another school and he's going to repeat eighth grade with us.» I started thinking. Dad was right; it really was a bit odd. Usually, nobody changed classes in May.

«How chaotic these schools are nowadays! No wonder children don't learn properly anymore!» He was shaking his head.

After lunch, Mum got ready to work in the practice, which meant that I had to do the washing up. But at least, I could listen to the charts this afternoon at full blast, as I would be by myself.

After I had finished the dishes, I went up to my room and turned on my XBS Bass Boost stereo. My room was my castle, and it was furnished just as I liked it. It looked a bit like a sunny day in spring, with green and pink flower patterns on the wall and light, right silk curtains. It wasn't cool, but rather romantic. I liked flowers. And Mum's love of gardens might have rubbed off a bit: there were a lot of plants distributed everywhere in my room.

My desk stood right in front of the window. Dad didn't think that was a good idea, but I loved the view. To the right there was a shelf crammed with books, which I had read several times already. To the left, there was a slope in the roof, and in the niche underneath it, there was my bed. Right above the bed, there was another window through which I could see the sky.

I lay down on my bed and closed my eyes. My parents gave me almost everything I could wish for. Probably because I was their only child. There had been a really sad story in my family, but I could hardly remember any of it. I used to have a little brother, but he had died when he was only three months old. The only thing I remembered was my parents crying terribly. There was a picture, above the fireplace in the living room, showing little Michael sleeping peacefully in my mum's arms. Sometimes, I stood in front of the fireplace for a long time, looking at the picture, trying to imagine what my brother would have looked like now.

I preferred spending my evenings at my desk instead of downstairs with my parents in front of the television. They were happy with that because they thought that I was reading one of my books. But I wasn't. They didn't have a clue about what I was really doing.

In front of me, on the desk, laid an open notebook, baring all my secrets: my very own novel. Since I was eleven, I had been writing my own book, but I didn't tell anyone. The story was about a lantern in the forest that had magic powers. Through this lantern, the two children in my book, Jashnika and Michael, could enter a mysterious world, where they had to fight against evil forces to save that world and make the lantern shine brightly again. If my parents came into my room by surprise, I would quickly hide the book under my desk pad and act as though I was reading one of my school books.

It had already started getting dark outside and, like almost every evening, I was waiting for that one moment: the moment when the streetlamps were turned on. Because the lantern in my story had a special meaning.

Our street bordered on a park, a vast green area. Our house was in the curve of the street on a slight hill. A bit further down, a narrow path led from the street through a small forest to an old mansion. The mansion was part of the park and had been made into a museum of local history. But the narrow path was private property, only the owners of the mansion and the employees of the museum were allowed to use it. To get to the mansion, everyone else had to make a detour via the public path, through the park, past the restaurant at the lake. The public path took about twenty minutes to walk, the private, direct path would only have taken five minutes.

It was not the mansion that was important to me, though, but the beautiful old lantern on the forecourt. I had to use the binoculars to see it better and I always got goose bumps when I saw that lonely light mysteriously shining through the trees.

In the night, I often had dreams I didn't want to wake up from again. I dreamt that I was riding through this green forest on the back of a white horse, surrounded by the light of the lantern in all its beautiful colours, like a shiny, wonderful rainbow. And when I reached my destination, the court with the lantern, I felt like I found the place where all my heart's desires, wishes and dreams came together. But this was usually the moment I woke up, disappointed that I hadn't managed to finish the dream. I had tried to tell my parents about it, but they didn't understand that kind of thing. So, I had started to write that novel.

I glanced at my watch. It was time! «I'm going to count to three.» I murmured. «One, two, three!» Nothing happened. So I started again. «Okay, this time I'll count to ten.»

I only got to seven. From one moment to the next, the park had been turned into a shimmering sea of lights in which my lantern was shining like an especially bright star in the night sky.

Dad hated the park. He preferred driving out to the countryside or to the mountains. A few years ago, we often used to go to the restaurant at the lake to have fish, but we had stopped doing that. Nowadays, some of the junkies from the other side of the park came wandering over as far as the restaurant once in a while, and ever since Dad had noticed used syringes in the grass, he didn't want to go there anymore. And he didn't allow me to go there anymore either. But Mum let me go every so often anyway. She reminded me every time, «Don't go any further than the lantern!» That was the limit.

Dad sometimes told us horrible stories about the other side of the park. All the crime that happened there and how neglected children were prowling around, stealing before they were old enough to go to school, even. He told us about men who would come home drunk, beating up their families. About poverty and drug misery. When I heard about that, I always went up to my room and thought about it. What would it be like to be a child who lives on the other side of the park?

Mum often told me that Dad struggled to come to terms with living in a city. He had grown up in a middle-class family in the country and he was quite traditional. But his desire to become a doctor had been so strong that he had been ready to give up that world that he loved so much. Maybe their way of thinking was also partly due to the fact that my parents were nearly fifty, already. They had had children quite late.

Dad generally struggled with modern things. With mobile phones, techno music and piercings. When I secretly bought a teen magazine half a year ago, his world caved in. I had forgotten to hide the magazine in the drawer of my desk, and Dad had discovered it on my bedside table. That had been one of the biggest arguments we had ever had, and I still blush thinking about it.

I wished my parents good night and went to bed, curling up underneath my duvet. And then I had to think about the new student again: it would definitely be an interesting change. I just hoped he was not going to be an idiot. Maybe it would help if I prayed. After all, I had once experienced a small miracle, which had made my faith stronger.

When I was about nine years old, my mum and I found an injured kitten on the street. The poor animal had been hit by a car and it had a horrible big wound. Blood was dripping onto the pavement. I will never forget that terrible sight. Mum and I had taken the kitten to the vet straight away. He shook his head sadly and told us that he wouldn't be able to do much anymore.

But I kept praying the whole day for God to perform a miracle and to heal the kitten. And really, three days later, the vet called us to say that the kitten was fine again and that they had found its owner. The vet himself admitted that it had been a minor miracle. I could not even start describing the joy I felt then.

I was thinking about that story too now, after I had finished praying. I prayed for a miracle that would change the situation in my class nearly every evening. But Mum said that these things didn't just happen over night.

I rolled over and pulled the duvet up to my nose. Soon, I was sleeping a deep, relaxing sleep, dreaming about the next day and the new student. In my dream, he came to school with a cat on his arms, his leg was bandaged and he had a very complicated name that didn't really exist and that I couldn't remember when I woke up the next morning.

3. Domenico

A friendly breeze filled the streets with life this morning as I walked to school a bit quicker than usually. I felt like I was going to burst with curiosity when I pushed the door to the building open. I ran up the last steps of the stairs and was nearly breathless when I arrived at the class room.

Everyone was gathered around Delia's desk, and they were unusually silent. The only voice to be heard was one I had never heard before; the hoarse voice of a boy that sounded cool and somehow really tough. Was he the new one?

«I swear, I'm gonna knock the stuffing out of your teachers! At my old swot shop, they all had to go to the nuthouse!»

I felt a shiver going from my head to my toes, leaving an electric feeling in my whole body. I stood behind Carol and Catherine and tried to catch a glimpse of the new boy. And what I saw instantly fascinated me.

Sitting casually on the desk was a freaky looking boy with ginger hair and a can of Red Bull in his hand. When I looked at him, he suddenly turned his face towards mine, and his expressive grey-blue eyes flashed at me. I wanted to say «hi,» but then I realised that he hadn't actually noticed me. The way he was dressed was shocking and fascinating all at once: his washed out jeans and his black faded t-shirt were full of holes. To look dishevelled might have been trendy for boys at the moment, but that was a bit much. Nobody was wearing that torn-up clothes. Around his neck, he was wearing leather bands with a pointy, bent fang and a silver pendant that somehow looked like intertwining thorns.

I couldn't stop staring at him. I had never seen such a good-looking boy. I started studying every detail while I was listening to what he was telling Delia and the others.

«I heard your teacher's really uncool,» he smiled dismissively. His eyes seemed to devour Delia. She moved closer and struck her well-rehearsed pose that worked with most boys. I grudgingly acknowledged that this new hope was lost already.

Andrew didn't seem to like the new boy either. He stood in front of him and looked down on him, snorting. «Hey, softhead, stop bragging about! I'm gonna bust your nose! I'm the boss at this school, everyone respects me!» he barked with his raucous voice.

«Do they?» the new one asked sneeringly, «I definitely don't.»

I noticed that he had a slight accent. Where did he come from, anyway? And what was his name? I only knew one thing for sure: he was a complete idiot! Just what I needed!

«Oh, just shut up, you jerk!» Delia shouted. «You might be the strongest but Domenico is definitely the most handsome! And I think looks are more important.»

Andrew grunted. His big fleshy nose and his closely-cropped hair didn't make him look like a Mister Universe candidate. But everyone feared him because of his strength and height.

Domenico! I had never heard that name before, but it sounded quite exotic and interesting. I was always collecting special names for my novel.

Domenico grinned and added coolly: «Keep it easy, Delia. At my old school, I was the strongest, too. That wimp ain't got no chance, relax!»

The girls were clapping their hands enthusiastically; everyone had always wanted to get their own back on him. Andrew snarled threateningly. There was definitely something dangerous brewing.

«Do you have a nickname?» Manuela asked. «Somethin' shorter than Domenico. That's so long!»

«You can call me Nico or Nick or Nicky.»

He smiled at the girls seductively and I saw that he had a big gap between his front teeth, which made him look even bolder. His left front tooth was even chipped. He leaned over to Delia: «Tell me, sweets, how about I sit next to you?»

«Oh!» she breathed, flattered. But then, a disappointed look spread over her face. «Unfortunately, Manu's already sitting next to me.»

«And where do I sit?»

They had a look around the room. My heart nearly stopped beating. I hadn't even thought about that. There were only two free seats: next to me or next to Patrick. But Patrick sat in the front row, right in front of the teacher. And the way I judged Domenico, he wouldn't choose to sit where Mrs Galiani could see him best. So, he was probably going to choose the seat next to me. My stomach twisted into a knot.

«Pah, I'm afraid you're gonna have to choose between the fatty and the little saint,» I heard Delia say. Domenico looked very disappointed.

«Bummer! And who's that supposed to be?»

The earth was trembling beneath my feet. That was definitely the most disgusting thing Delia could have done to me: ridiculing me in front of the new boy. I quickly hid my face. Don't cry now, just don't! Delia's eyes were looking for me and there was no point in hiding behind Catherine.

«There she is. Our little geeky saint!» She pointed her finger directly at me, and I could feel Domenico's eyes on me. These grey-blue, intense eyes that examined me thoroughly, shooting flashing arrows at me. I felt horribly clumsy and stupid and I wished the ground would open up and swallow me.

Was that an amused smile playing around his lips? I couldn't properly recognise it because the tears had won the battle again and they blurred my vision. I would so much have liked to give Delia a smart answer. I was not a saint little geek! I swallowed my tears and pressed my lips together.

He whistled through his teeth and leered. «Allora, where do you sit?»

«In the back, last row, at the window.» I tried to make my voice sound steady. He threw his paper bag, which he had brought some books in, onto my desk and strolled back past the other desks. I followed him grudgingly and sat down on my chair. Was God not listening? Domenico proved to be worse than my most horrible nightmare. And, of course, Delia had been lucky again!

«Guys, she's coming! Watch out!» Isabelle shouted into the classroom. Immediately, everyone sat down at their desk. Delia smiled at Domenico expectantly and carefully draped her blonde mane on her shoulder. I sat there, head on my hands and sighed to myself. My eyes were still a bit wet. All hopes for Ludger Edelkötter had gone.

Mrs Galiani stepped into the room, followed by Patrick, who slipped behind his desk, as silent as a mouse. The class calmed down, and Mrs Galiani sternly looked around the room until her eyes reached Domenico.

«Welcome to 8a, Domenico! Have you handed in your documents to the headmaster?»

«Nah, the old fart overslept.»

The whole class started laughing, Delia the loudest.

«Be quiet, Delia!» Mrs Galiani ordered angrily. «Domenico di Loreno!» she pronounced his full name and made a note. At least his name was special, like in my dream last night. She looked at him attentively, she even seemed concerned. Nearly as though she knew something about him.

The first thing she made us do today was a writing exercise. I opened my notebook. I generally wasn't afraid of writing exercises. After I had written about four sentences, I peeked at Domenico. He sat there, holding his head, and scribbled something on the paper with a chewed pencil. Why didn't he use a proper pen?

I finished my sentence and started observing Domenico from the corner of my eye. First, I looked at his hair. Depending on the light, it seemed either light brown or ginger. Like a chameleon, I thought. It was falling into his face in cheeky, long strands, covering his grey-blue, almond-shaped eyes. His eyebrows, which were a bit darker than his hair, made a beautiful bow above his eyes. And, of course, he had a pointed, bold chin.

I noticed two other details: around his left wrist, he wore loads of leather bands, and he smelled of cigarette smoke.

Suddenly, he realised that I had been observing him and stopped writing. «What are you lookin' at?» he hissed. His voice was sharp and cold, and his eyes were piercing.

«I'm sorry!» I mumbled quickly, blushing. For the second time today, my eyes filled with tears. I missed the next sentence. And the one after that. Mrs Galiani's voice didn't reach me anymore. After a while, she stopped and came to stand next to Domenico. The furrow between her eyes became deeper when she picked up his notebook.

«Domenico …» her voice sounded quite desperate. «Go up to the blackboard, please.»

Domenico grinned at the teacher cheekily and remained on his chair.

«Now!»

«Alright, calma! Don't panic, lady!» He put some chewing gum in his mouth and walked to the front casually. The girls were following his moves with longing gazes. Mrs Galiani stayed next to his chair with her arms folded.

«Now, take a piece of chalk and write February!»

He rolled his eyes and scratched the chalk over the blackboard with a nasty squeak. His handwriting was not exactly pretty, but the word still clearly read «Febury».

«Retard!» Andrew grumbled.

Domenico grinned and flipped him the bird. The girls nearly couldn't suppress their giggling.

Mrs Galiani cleared her throat.

«Well, Domenico, it seems like you might need some extra tutoring in English.»

Wham! That hit home! That would stop him trying to be funny. Mrs Galiani was really smart.

Domenico leaned against the blackboard and angrily looked at the teacher. «Whatever!» he said, without batting an eye-lid. Mrs Galiani walked towards him with vigorous steps and grabbed him at his shoulders.

«Let me tell you something, young man: don't try and play the rebel in my class. You are going to hand in that notebook at the end of the lesson and I will grade that exercise!»

Everyone, including me, was staring at Mrs Galiani in shock now. We all knew she was strict, but it had never been this bad before. The girls were looking at Domenico compassionately but he just shrugged his shoulders. I couldn't tell whether he really didn't mind that punishment. I took another look at his notebook. With all those spelling mistakes he would definitely get an insufficient grade. There was no doubt.

«I don't care about that stupid writing stuff!» Domenico commented after the second English lesson, when we girls had gathered around him in the schoolyard. I was incredibly curious about what would happen next. He was smoking a cigarette and studied every girl with his irresistible tooth-gap smile. Every girl, except for me, of course. Either he was quite a good actor or he really was not embarrassed at all.

«She's sharper than I thought, but I crack her. Gonna come up with summin' …»

«She really isn't easy to get to,» Delia worried.

«I thought she went completely over the top!» Manuela commented.

But he waved dismissively. «Like I said: I don't care!»

«If you manage to crack her, you're going to get a medal!» declared Isabelle with her chin up, tying her dark brown, shiny hair up into a ponytail.

«You just wait and see. Got a lotta tricks up my sleeve!»

«We had some too. Don't think you're that clever!» Isabelle was not going to give up that easily, as usual.

«You just chicken out too easy, that's all,» he said, «You're too easy to scare.» He flicked his cigarette away, and it landed beside the bike shelter. The next one was immediately lit.

«Watch out Galiani doesn't catch you,» Isabelle said, «smoking isn't allowed on the grounds.»

«I don't care,» he replied coolly and suddenly flinched when something in his pocket started beeping in a melody. He stuck the cigarette between his lips and fished out a smartphone.

«Wow! That's awesome!» Delia admired it. «I've been nagging my parents for ages to get me one of those.»

He smiled at her smugly and checked the message on the display. His grin disappeared and his expression became hard and somehow worried.

«Gotta make a quick call. You gonna wait?» He moved away a few steps, just far enough for us not to hear his conversation.

I was boiling up inside. Delia had got her mobile out too and she was now pushing some keys with her fingers full of rings. I did not have my own mobile phone of course. Dad did not see the necessity of having one of those. After all, we had been living just fine without them before, too. At least I was allowed to borrow my mum's, and I could even take it to school. But it was just lying there in my bag. I didn't know anyone who would text me anyway.

When Domenico came back, Delia stretched like a purring cat. «Are you gonna give me your number?» she asked sweetly. I snorted a tiny bit too loudly and had to pretend I had a coughing fit.

«No,» he said calmly and put his phone back into his pocket, «nobody gets my number.»

I really enjoyed Delia's long face. «Man! What's that supposed to mean?!» she was sulking, but he wouldn't change his mind.

«What time is?» he asked. «I really gotta go.»

We all looked pretty confused. We still had classes until lunch! But he was serious. He waved goodbye and just trod off, leaving the schoolyard as if it was a playground to which you only came if you felt like it.

«Man, this guy's got some nerve!» Isabelle muttered, saying out loud what everyone was thinking.

I touched my forehead and shook my head. What an idiot! It was all so frustrating and unfair! I really would have liked to cry out my anger, but I couldn't even cry anymore. I was standing in front of the biggest mystery of my life, and two hours later I was not even sure anymore whether it had all just been a dream or whether it was actually true.