Writer’s note
It would be fun to produce indie films. We would make this one on location in Germany, where a lot of the train depots are great pieces of architecture. Not only do they draw the eye, they are also a gathering point for the life of the city. In this story, the depot is a natural scene for any boy that's got a beef with society. Therefore, I'm writing in part about the boys who want to break things, but I'm also writing about other boys who are more interested in having fun. Depot in background. FADE OUT.
Punk Lite
An American boy out of place across the Atlantic does great in his new school - if the punks will leave him alone. The punks are the kids around Harris, including his brother, that like to break wine bottles outside the train depot. Harris is a happy boy who wants to stay that way, with a school friend he loves that introduces him to a German town he didn't think he would like.
Harris, 14, doesn't speak the language but he's picking it up quick, plus for him German is the language of love.
Extra mustard... the edge to an afternoon that also comes with mayonnaise for the French fries - hold the broken glass.
The beginning of the story…
The path between the roads is dark. I'm not sure what we're doing here because it was Matt's idea.
Me and him are boys that go to the same school. We're also in the same grade but he's one month older than me.
He will never know the truth, which is how much I like him. I think you can like someone without them even knowing it.
The way I met him was pretty simple. I was new in school. Matt came up to me in the hallway, where it was pretty crowded.
"Hello," he said. "I didn't see you before."
"Yeah, I'm new."
"What's your name?"
"Harris."
We've been friends since then. We do stuff. He took me to this soccer game but I didn't like it. That didn't matter, though, because I was with him.
I called him Matt one day and he said he liked it. His real name is Matthias and that's what everybody else calls him.
He speaks good English. I don't speak German that good.
It's not that hard to become friends with someone in a different country. The second day I knew him, Matt goes, "I like you."
That was pretty cool. I didn't know what to say, so I punched him. Not hard or anything.
Then he goes, "You like bratwurst?"
"What's that?"
He took me to a place on the street. These sausages were on the grill.
"You're gonna like it."
"Looks like hot dogs."
He thought I was crazy.
We had these paper plates for our bratwurst, mustard, and a wedge of bread.
"Do what I do," he said.
I watched. He used the bread to pick up the bratwurst and dip it in the mustard. I followed.
It was good. I was used to eating American food and I didn't care about trying anything new. I was kind of mad that I got pulled out of my hometown, which is Fort Smith, Arkansas. What happened was, my father got moved over here for his job and that was that. Once I found Matt, I started to feel better.
We have just started up the path. You can see some lights from the brewery in the distance. The neon gives you some red and some yellow. But it doesn't help you see Matt that well.
I think he wants to touch me. He has bumped me once already. He can always say it was the darkness that caused it.