Nothing in This World Can Be Endured Forever

The holidays were approaching quickly. The air was becoming harsher as the temperatures dropped and snow fell from the sky, dusting the world in a light blanket. Bill would have called it beautiful if he wasn’t freezing as he waiting for the bus. His shoes were more battered than ever and the thin layers he wore were not enough to fight off the bitter wind that cut through him.

His lips and fingers were numb and blue, and he was pretty sure he didn’t have toes any longer when he boarded the bus. He was desensitized to the teasing and names that day, let alone the pins and needles torturing his extremities as the feeling returned slowly.

All he could think about was the phone call the night before. Bill had been walking down the stairs with a basket of laundry when he overheard Jörg on the phone, speaking angrily to the other person. This wasn’t something new or even interesting, but his mothers name had been spoken multiple times. That was what made Bill sneak into the living room and listen in to the phone call.

And it had been worth it. From what Bill heard, his mother was going to take Jörg to court because he was keeping Bill from her. She spoke in a loud angry tone that Bill could hear perfectly from where he was hidden.

It made no sense to him. She hated him, just as much if not more than Jörg did, but she was fighting with his father to see him? And Tom, he’d heard that name, clear as day, come out of Jörg’s mouth.

Bill doubled over in pain, coughing and curling into himself. He looked up at the boy hovering over him, his fist pulled back with confusion. One of Joey’s friends delivered another punch, this time to his shoulder.

“Stop…” Bill pleaded, pressing himself further into the side of the bus. The dark haired boy continued to wail on him. His wasn’t as strong as the other, and Bill had never been hit by him before, but it hurt none the less. Tears sprang to his eyes when the boy’s knuckles landed against his jaw. “Stop, please…”

“Look! He’s such a pansy! He can’t even take a punch without crying like a fag!”

It was a new semester, which meant new classes. Bill’s classes didn’t change expect he had gym instead of history before lunch. Bill wasn’t excited at all for the first day, as they usually ended up dividing into teams to play Throw-the-Balls-at-Bill.

And that is exactly what happened. After Mr. Shank, the gym teacher, explained the rules of the class, the locker rooms, and the requirements of the class, he said with enthusiasm, “Since it’s the first day, we’re going to play Dodge-Ball for the rest of the class, because everybody seems to like it! Line up against the wall and we’ll separate into teams.”

The class scrambled to the wall, but Bill slowly wondered over, his head downcast. He knew this would happen. He physically prepared himself for the humiliation of being picked last and then pummeled with the balls by his class mates.

He stood between a girl that chewed her gum loudly and another girl that was in his first class who both ignored him.

“Okay… Porter and Kaulitz, you’re the team captains.”

Bill’s head shot up, his jaw nearly hit the floor in his shock. He was a… captain? How could this be? He was too shocked to step forward, but he was glad he didn’t when two boys stepped out of the line and bumped knuckles before turning to face the group.

The boy on the right, closest to him, was Jason Porter. He was tall with short brown hair and always seemed to be wearing some type of athletic clothing. In the class Bill had with him the previous year, he hadn’t joined in with the other boys in teasing him. Jason had ignored it all and joked with his friends.

The boy on the left seemed to be Jason’s opposite. He wore baggy clothes, not like some of the other boys who had to waddle through the school, but just enough that he had to hold his pants up some. He had a lip ring that he played with the whole time he’d been standing in front of the class. His hair was… a mess, more so than his own, from what Bill could see. The dirty blond locks, almost the same color as Bill’s own hair, looked like how Bianca would twist her hair into rows or that he hadn’t combed in a year. At least Bill tried to run his fingers through his own hair on a semi-regular basis.

As far as Bill knew, he was the only Kaulitz in the school. His half-siblings went to a private school in the city. So who was this kid? Bill surly didn’t recognize him. Jörg would have any one of his children looking like that. Unless….

The two captains took turns sizing up their choices and choosing. Mr. Shank had retreated to the top of the bleachers, watching them while also working on paper work or something. Bill wished he’d stay on the floor with them. He didn’t like how this game ended.

As always, he was the last person standing sheepishly on the wall. He was the uneven, unlucky player. And neither team wanted him. Bill looked between the two groups, all of which were waiting impatiently for something to happen so they could have their fun.

Porter was looking at the other captain, hoping that he’d take the last boy. Everyone knew that the team who had him on their team would lose. But the new kid was watching the boy with narrowed eyes, as if he recognized him from somewhere and was trying to put his finger on where he’d seen him.

“Dude?” Porter tried again, resting his right first in his open left palm in front of him. “Best two of three?”
“Uh, yeah.”

Porter lost. He groaned and told Bill to get on his side. Bill made his way to be close enough to the group to be counted but still far enough away that he could be left alone.

Maybe if I just stay out of the way, they’ll forget me, Bill thought to himself.

“On the count of three…” Mr. Shank began to count down, but before he could get to one, the loud speaker crackled into operation and a secretary asked for him to report to the office. “Okay, Porter, you’re the ref until I get back!”

Porter shrugged and stepped off to the side to conduct the game. The balls were all lined up in the middle of the floor and all the players had their backs against the wall, ready to spring into action to grab a ball.

“Go!” Porter shouted as Mr. Shank left the gym. Everybody but Bill shot forward to snatch a ball and hit one of the opposing players. He kept his back pressed against the wall, watching the game play out.

The game was progressing rather quickly to shouts and snatching of balls, and Bill was relaxing as he stood against the wall. They were distracted with each other to notice him, he was hoping.

He was highly mistaken as a ball came flying at his face. He ducked and heard the thwap of the ball against the wall where his head had just been. Crouching down, Bill looked up to see other players looking at him. He pressed himself against the wall, wishing it would suck him in.

But as some of the other players turning back to the game, three boys didn’t. They walked closer to where Bill was crouched, colorful balls in hand. Bill eyed them warily. He didn’t know the boys by name, but he’d seen them around the school before.

“I wonder what the fairy is doing not playing the game…” the boy in the middle said with an overly sarcastic tone.

“It seems kind of unfair that he’s left out, don’t you think?” the tan boy to the right questioned.

“Yeah,” the tallest of the three agreed. “You’re right. I think we should let him join in with us, don’t you think?”

Bill lowered his head, knowing what was to come. It was the same every time and he prepared himself for the onslaught. He tensed as the first ball hit his arm. It didn’t hurt, necessarily, because the balls were supposed to be soft. But only half of them were foam. The others were red kick balls that would hurt. And that’s what they opted to throw at him. Bill hid his face in his knees his arms trying to deflect some of the balls.
The boys didn’t let up until Mr. Shank came back into the room. They scattered, but not before they each leaned close and spat on him, calling him filthy names. Bill stayed curled into himself for a moment, hiding his humiliation.

The lunch bell had just rung throughout the school and as the halls filled with students rushing to meet their friends, Bill hung back in the gym after class, slowly making his way to his locker after the noise in the halls died down some. The smells wafting throughout the school made his stomach clench and his mouth water.

After grabbing his books for English and Math, he quietly snuck into the classroom before any teachers could see him. The lights were off, but his English teacher, Mrs. Lacombe was sitting at the desk reading a book as she ate her lunch. She looked up as he entered and Bill lowered his head, hugging his books to his chest.

“Oh! Hi, Bill,” she greeted with a smile.

Bill picked his head up slightly and said in a small voice, “Hi.”

“Did you get your homework done?” she asked with a knowing look. She knew that Bill struggled with the language and was having problems retaining the information the rest of the class understood with less difficulty.

Bill shook his head and moved to take his normal seat. She frowned and reminded herself that she’d have to talk with the principle about this. His lack of communication with her and the other students wasn’t normal for a boy his age, she was sure of it.

She got up from her desk and approached Bill. “Here, let’s work on it together, okay?” Bill nodded, unsure on how he could deny the help that he really did need. He couldn’t understand why he couldn’t understand or remember the vocabulary words; let alone how to even pronounce them.

Mrs. Lacombe helped him for the rest of the lunch hour on the worksheet, frowning when she realized just how far behind he was compared to the other students. He’d failed the exam from last semester, and she’d been surprised that she hadn’t noticed his lack of progress before.

Bill felt ashamed. He was stupid and he felt like he didn’t deserve to get help. He was hopeless and nothing he did would fix it. Mrs. Lacombe was nice, though. He liked that she was trying to help him, even if it was her job and he didn’t deserve it.

When class started, and the lesson progressed, he felt like he was thrown into a different world entirely. He didn’t understand the words that Mrs. Lacombe wrote on the board and rambled off for them to copy down. He was frustrated that he didn’t understand what she was saying, but everyone around him seemed to be able to. It probably didn’t help that his stomach turned with hunger and he couldn’t seem to keep his mind off of it.

He copied the notes off the board but didn’t participate when the class did speaking challenges. He stared at his English book as if it was going to eat him. He sighed, trying to understand the language on the page.

Math was worse. The lesson they were working on completely left Bill in the dust. He felt uncomfortable sitting next to a new kid to the class. Joey wasn’t on his left, instead on the other side of the room. Bill wasn’t complaining.

The teacher did role at the beginning of class, and even through the majority of them were from the last semester, he felt it was necessary. The kid with the weird hair from gym class was an empty desk away from Bill on his left. He was fiddling with his pencil and sat slumped low in his seat. Bill was trying to place where, besides gym, he’d seen this boy. He looked familiar, like he’d seen a picture of him or something. His eyebrows furrowed and he turned back to the board, listening for his last name as he pondered it.

“Junge?” Mr. Furgenson called.

“Here,” the kid to Bill’s right responded loudly.

“Kaulitz?”

“Here,” Bill voiced the same time the kid to his left did. He looked over at the boy that shared his last name. Maybe it was more common that he actually thought. The boy was looking at him weirdly, like how his half-siblings did, and Bill didn’t blame him. Even if he was new to the school, he must have been clued into Bill’s social status by now.

Bill lowered his gaze, curling back into himself when his stomach rumbled painfully. He’s managed to ignore the hunger so far with trying to understand the whirlwind of information of the last class.

“Tom?” Mr. Furgenson asked.

The boy confirmed. Bill couldn’t help but look back up at him in shock. There was no way…

“Bill?”

“He-re.” he hiccuped, nervously, looking intently back down at his open book.