Schatzi

3

The teacher was droning on, her nasally voice going in one ear and out the other. Lessons just seemed to drag these days. This teacher didn't really care if people spoke with their friends, as long as they did the work, but he didn't have any friends to talk to.

He was sitting at the front of the class, the teacher pacing back and forward in front of him. He'd used to sit at the back, minding his own business, and he could always be sure people weren't staring at him. They still would, but at least he knew about it. But then his teacher had moved him right to the front, said it was to keep an eye on him. Now whenever she said something, she would always stare at him, making sure he knew every negative word that came out of her mouth was aimed at him.

As he stared straight ahead, not looking at anyone else, he heard his classmates behind him giggling. He hadn't heard what it was about, but a little voice in the back of his head told him it was him, every time people started laughing, it was at him. He looked down at his desk, biting his nails, trying to drown them out, but they just seemed to get louder and louder and louder until it was deafening, mixed with the pounding of his heart, his hands clammy. He covered his ears, leaning on his elbows, clenching his eyes tightly.

"Elijah!" His teacher snapped, standing in front of his desk. "Elijah, stop messing about and look at me."

He took his hands away from his ears, sitting up straighter. He didn't know how long he'd been like that, how long they'd actually been laughing or how long his teacher had been yelling at him.

The whole class was laughing now, he could feel their stares burning into his back, their laughter loud and raucous. His teacher was fuming, red in the face, glaring at Eli with hatred in her eyes.

"Are you retarded, Elijah?" She asked quietly, encouraging more laughter from the class.

"No, miss," he whispered, looking down at his desk again.

"Look up at me," she snapped, and he did, feeling like someone was choking him as he stared her down, breathing quick and shallow. "Were you listening to what I said?" She continued.

"No, miss. Sorry, miss."

"Read what's on the board for me, Elijah."

The whole classroom was silent, you could've heard a pin drop. Eli slowly looked to the chalkboard behind his teacher, taking a deep breath before beginning to read the cursive writing.
"The responsibility for-" he began, but she cut him off.

"Stand up."

He slowly pushed back his chair, the sound of it scraping against the hard wooden floors grating. He stood up, his hands shaking.

"The responsibility for the War lies solely with the Jews and other Untermensch. They are traitors to Germany and to the Führer. They are different and dangerous and do not deserve to be considered as Germans."

He was gripping the edge of his desk, his knuckles turning white. There was another sentence, just two words that his teacher always had written at the top of the blackboard.

"Read all of it, Elijah."

Eli bit his lip, not saying anything.

"Say it."

"Hail Hitler," he whispered, looking down at the floor, his voice hitching.

"Sit down."

Eli sat down quickly, staring straight ahead. The room was still deadly silent, even when the teacher continued the lesson.

At the end of the lesson, the teacher called for everyone to pack up their things, then raised her arm in salute, the rest of the class following. Eli stood up, glaring at her as the end bell went, walking out of class as quick as he could without saluting.

He practically ran out of school, his eyes filled with tears. He hated it. He hated everything about school. The students, the teachers, the lessons. It was constant. History was one of the worst, that and biology, but every teacher seemed to somehow validate talking about fucking 'untermensch', like they were some kind of aliens. Every day he'd go home in a similar state, having being picked on and bullied in every single class. No one liked him, no one ever talked to him out of class. There were other Jewish kids in school, but they didn't talk to him either. Everyone seemed to think he was crazy, and he faced everything completely alone.

He just wanted the whole thing to end. If he got kicked out, he wouldn't care. His mum was a teacher before she was fired. She could teach him, and when the whole Hitler thing blew over in a couple of years, he could go to University, get a good job. Him and Peter could be happy. Maybe they still couldn't be open about their relationship, but it wouldn't be so bad. Things would go back to normal. He just had to lay low until they did.

He was walking home silently, lost in his thoughts when someone kicked the back of his knees and he stumbled but was quickly pulled up again by the straps of his bag only to be pushed back to the cobbled streets, gasping in shock as his cheek hit the cold, wet stone. The person who'd kicked him spun him around to he was facing him, lying on his back. The boy, who looked about a year older than him, dressed in a Hitler Youth uniform put his foot on Eli's chest, holding him down.

"That's the boy in your class, right?" He asked, glancing behind him. A boy who was in Eli's class stepped forward, nodding his head.

"Karl," Eli muttered, trying to shove the older boy off him. "What are you doing?"

He'd always hated Karl. He looked a bit like a rat, with mousy hair and a thin face, his watery blue eyes bulging out their sockets as he smirked down at Eli.
"Yeah. He's the fucking crazy one. Was snivelling in History like a baby, looked like he was about to flat out murder Miss Schmidt after that."

Eli struggled harder, managing to shove the boy's foot away and scramble to his feet, but before he could do anything, there was a sharp blow to his jaw, sending him reeling, his vision blurring.

"Beat the shit out of him, Ralf," Karl sneered, lurking just behind his shoulder, hiding like the coward he was. Ralf shoved him against the stone wall of the houses lining either side of the narrow street. People wouldn't see them here, not that they'd do anything to stop them if they did. They could kill him, and no one would give a shit.

As Ralf smirked down at him, he noticed some of the other boys. Hans, who's knocked him unconscious in boxing the other day. Rudolph, who would shove his textbook under Eli's nose to show him anything anti-Semitic that came up at every opportunity. Artur, who sabotaged him in PE whenever he could. And Max, who had told him the day before in Eugenics that all Jews should be put to death to stop them from 'breeding'.

The rest he didn't know, but none of them seemed to have any problem with beating him up. Ralf I'd started something, and in a matter of seconds, all he knew was pain, not from where or who it came from. He cried out, trying to escape, but as soon as he did, he was just pulled back, shoved against the wall, his head hitting the hard stone, seeing stars.

He was vaguely aware of someone screaming and swearing. Probably him.

They were going to kill him.

They were actually going to kill him.

Leave his body to rot in an alleyway, no one would even care. Except his mum. And his dog. Maybe Peter.

It seemed to last forever.

He was curled up in a ball, and endless barrage of hits as he mumbled to himself, praying for it to be over.

And then it was.

He didn't open his eyes, didn't move from his defensive position until he heard them running away, their footsteps heavy on the cobbles.

He flinched and whimpered as an arm wrapped around his shoulders but relaxed when he smelt the familiar warm, comforting smell and when he opened his eyes, was greeted by those gorgeous eyes.

Peter helped him to his feet, holding him close in public for the first time ever as he walked him home.