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two crimestories
piece of homework.
Cem and I agreed to never
tell anyone about what
we’d seen. Despite that,
the story made its rounds
during the first major
recess on Monday, and
blushing deeply, Silvana
locked herself in the
girls’ bathroom, because
she could no longer take
the teasing and giggling.
Someone called after her:
“Don’t feel embarrassed.
That’s just the way you
Spaghettis are!” A few
kids laughed loudly, but
then Mario, the son of the
Albertis who ran a local
pizza joint, walked up and
punched the boy who’d
said that. Herr Schneider
had recess duty, and
he
intervened.
Herr
Schneider was also the
one who fetched Silvana
out of the bathroom and
talked to her for a while.
Afterschool, I founda letter
from my brother waiting
for me at home. He wrote
about the cool bands
he’d recently discovered.
I finished my homework
and wanted to head right
out for the record store,
but my mother had pulled
together a package for her
cousin in the GDR, and I
had to take it to the post
office. She was always
sending the lamest things
over there: chocolate,
cocoa, gum, candles,
even
handkerchiefs.
Sometimes
on
the
weekends, we drove with
Grandma and Grandpa
as close to the border as
we could, and then all
anyone ever did was stare
across. Of course, there
was never anything to
see, except for the border
guard shacks and the
mountains, which didn’t