Stephanie de Velasco: Tiger Milk

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?

Listen, says Amir, I don’t want to talk about it, about any of it. None of it you understand.

Okay.

Good.

Happy Ramadan, I say.

Thanks, to you to. Bajram Serif Mubarek.

Ready to go?

Amir smiles.

Today I’m going to jump off the ten-metre platform.

Swear on your mother’s grave, I say and for a second I think I shouldn’t have said it but I don’t really mean his mother’s grave, it’s just something people say, you really have to think about your choice of words now and the things you just say without meaning it, but Amir just laughs and smacks my legs with his duffel bag, I swear, he says, I swear on my mother’s grave, today I’m going to dive off the ten-metre platform.

At the pool I can see Nico, Tobi, and Nadja from a long way off, laying in our usual spot.

Yo, yells Nico getting up and coming toward us, great to see you.

Amir slaps him five.

Hi, says Nico looking over at me.

I ignore him and put my Aladdin towel down next to Tobi and Nadja.

You want anything from the snack kiosk, I ask Amir.

Nah, he says, it’s Ramadan.

Are you really fasting, asks Nadja.

I’m trying, says Amir.

Nadja takes a drag on her cigarette.

Isn’t it unhealthy?

It’s his business, I say.

I know but not eating and drinking all day, it sounds tough to me, you have to have an iron will.

I have an iron will, says Amir pulling a Star Wars towel out of his bag.

So, says Tobi, are you living with Jameelah right now?

Amir nods.

So fucked up, Tobi says, that they just threw you in jail like that.

I dig around for my wallet.

Why don’t you come with me to the kiosk, I say, then we can go to the diving platform.

Amir stands up. We go together across the lawn and then Amir suddenly stops.

What’s up, I say.

Back there, he says nodding his head in the direction of the kiddie pool.

Dragan is sitting beyond the kiddie pool. He’s wearing his purple swimsuit, like always, and like always a few of his friends are sitting around him playing cards and drinking Slivovitz. Somebody smacks Dragan on the shoulder, he laughs, but not with his eyes, only with his mouth. Herr Wittner said one time that it normally takes thirteen different muscles to make a real smile and that if they aren’t all being used it’s not a real smile, but then again what does normally even mean.

He rang the door yesterday, says Amir.

Who, Dragan?

Yeah. Noura answered. He wanted to talk to me.

Why?

He wants to know where Jasna’s buried.

And?

They buried her in Visegrad where my father’s buried.

Why don’t you tell him?

I don’t know, says Amir, not yet. Maybe at some point.

At the kiosk I buy a bulette with mustard and a bread roll. I sit down on the sun-warmed tiles next to the diving platforms and watch as Amir climbs up to the ten-metre platform. My face still hurts from Jameelah’s fingernails but luckily the wounds in my mouth from getting my wisdom teeth pulled don’t hurt anymore, the lead doctor took out the stitches that had popped out and replaced them, but those came out too and things didn’t heal so well, that’s what the lead doctor said, and he said I should be careful about hard things and spicy things. I bite into the hard crust of the roll. Amir waves at me, I wave back, and then somebody taps me on the shoulder.