TG Universes & Series:
“I bet Gab’s got some,” Brid stated as I joined the others in Thesing’s.
I plonked myself down next to Steff, guh; I’m still tired from yesterday.
“Fancy underwear,” Pia supplied.
“Course she has, you don’t wear C&A® with those fancy frocks,” Steff opined.
Now let me state, now, categorically, I do not like girls underwear, well I suppose my knickers are comfortable but bras, brrrr and don’t get me started on corsets, wearing that one at the wedding was like torture.
“You know, something a bit naughty.” Con offered with a smirk.
Look, I might’ve been wearing the stuff for best part of two years but I take no pleasure from it. Well okay, I’ll admit I’ve got a couple of favourite bras but that’s cos they are comfortable, no other reason, really.
“Didn’t you have a corset for the wedding?” Steff suggested.
You know me; I could feel my face changing colour.
“We’ll take that as a yes,” Brid almost giggled.
“So, er why are we discussing underwear?” I managed to ask.
I’m not comfortable with this girl stuff okay?
“There was a thing on Morgen, they’ve done a survey which reckons Eifel women each have two sets of special undies,” Pia explained.
“Kay,” so okay it’s not a completely random conversation. “No Nena?”
“Not heard since Saturday,” Brid noted.
“Hope she’s okay,” Steff put in.
“I’ll pop in on the way to cheering, it’s on my way,” Pia suggested.
“Yeah, I’ll come with,“ I volunteered.
“Girls?” Frau Thesing called across, “its ten past.”
“Oops!” Con allowed.
The ride down to Silverberg was uneventful, well apart from my posterior complaining about the Schauff’s fat bouncy saddle. Not that I think any saddle would be any better; Dad reckons we did over a hundred and seventy kilometres with our little er diversion. It wasn’t my fault okay?
Yeah so apart from my bum its turning into just another day.
“Okay everyone, pop quiz.” Herr Bollt announced.
That was met with a round of moans; Herr Bollt’s geography quizzes are notorious. I personally quite like the subject but he comes up with some really off the wall questions to catch us out. Paper was passed around, names affixed and a throat clearing announced our imminent doom.
I wrote ‘1’ in the margin.
“How many City Länder are there in the German Republic?” he paused, “and two, name them.”
See what I mean, you can guess question one but you have to know for question two.
I scribbled my answers – well not scribbled exactly, you know what I mean.
“Question three, by area and population, which is the smallest Länder?”
‘S easy, Bremen, I added that to my sheet and waited for the next question.
“Question twenty nine, to the nearest round percentage number, how much of Germany is forest.”
We only did this last week, thirty percent?
“And lastly, question thirty, of the fifteen National Parks, how many occupy coastal positions.”
Sugar, no idea, Wattenmeer, Jasmund, five? Sounds about right.
“Okay everyone, sheets to the front, quickly,” Herr Bollt instructed.
Yeah, just another day.
Instead of my usual training session after school I decided that I’d be better off loosening up ready for the evenings cheering session. Instead of bibs and a jersey, the days lycra experience ran to a fuchsia sports bra and a pair of dance tights. Yeah I know, hardly macho Drew stuff but the girls need support and the tights are, well they’re comfortable okay?
I don’t have a set routine but I usually cover the same stuff and after a couple of months of relative inactivity with this stuff some of the more er stretchy moves just weren’t happening. Hmm, maybe I need a different approach.
Ten minutes later I was using the banister as a makeshift barre and going through the moves Laura had me doing at Lilleshall. So okay, they’re ballet moves but after a few minutes I was feeling looser, perhaps there’s something to this stuff. I’d been at it for about half an hour when a snicker alerted me to an audience.
“What are you up to Gab?” the Dark One enquired.
“Well duh, what’s it look like?”
“It looks like you need a tutu,” she giggled.
“Ha de ha.”
Of course she’d caught me with my foot hooked on the top of the rail and now I seem to be er stuck.
“Er, can you give me a hand Ju, I’m sort of stuck.”
“Idiot,” she stated before lifting me off.
“So what’s with the ballet stuff?”
“Trying to loosen up for tonight, sugar, what time is it; I’m supposed to be meeting P.”
She looked at her watch, “twenty to five.”
Bum indeed, I’m supposed to be at Pia’s at five, I must’ve been at this longer than I thought.
“So what time you meeting?”
“I’ll give you a lift if you want.”
“Er cool, five minutes?”
Geez, that’s twice in a week she’s offered me a seat on the mofa, must be something wrong with her but I’ll not complain. Of course five minutes was closer to ten by the time I’d dressed for public consumption and grabbed the cheer stuff. My sister already had the bike put-putting when I got outside.
“Here,” she handed me a helmet, “Mum’ll go potty if you don’t have that on.”
Whatever, given the speed of the thing, especially with a passenger, it’s a bit of overkill. I climbed on behind Jules and we set off.
It was only when we got to the Sebenschuh’s place that I realised I’d boobed by taking up Jules’ offer, we are supposed to be checking up on Nena.
“Hi guys,” Pia greeted us, “no bike Gab?”
“Sugar, I thought your Dad was taking us.”
“You can borrow Ingrid’s.”
“Thanks for the lift Jules,” I gave her the helmet which she strapped to the rack.
“No prob, laters!”
And with a whine of complaint she took off back towards Dernau.
“So why the lift?” Pia asked as we headed towards the garage.
“I was er doing some stuff and forgot the time and she offered.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
Ingrid’s bike was another typical town bike, a Kalkoff in a particularly girly white and pink paintjob – very um girly. Beggars can’t be choosers; I dropped my bag in the basket and wheeled it outside.
“Hi Mr S.”
“You two off to the Tanzklub?”
“Er yeah, cheering tonight.”
“Take care then, tschuss.
We set off up the bike track towards Mayschoβ, it’s not a long way but far enough. It follows the railway line for the most part and even uses an old tunnel to cut the corner to the village. Nena lives up near the campsite on Sonnscheidestrasse; it’s not much of a climb but still a bit of an effort on these bikes.
“Hmm, no car,” Pia observed as we coasted to a stop.
“Shutters are down too.”
We parked the bikes and headed around the back, which looked similarly unpromising. I rang the bell anyway.
“Looks like they’re away.”
“She coulda said,” I sighed, “come on, let’s get to Tanz.”
“Let me try her phone.”
Nothing to lose I guess. Pia hit the speed dial, a moment later we could hear a phone ringing inside the house.
“Well that solves that mystery, wherever they’ve gone she forgot her phone,” Pia concluded.
“Hello, girls? You are looking for the Fischer’s?”
We turned to find a woman at the door of the next house.
“Er yeah, Nena wasn’t at school, we just came to see if she’s okay.”
“Ah, I recognise you, you were Weinkönigin last year.”
“Guilty,” I admitted.
“So pretty.” She smiled.
“The Fischer’s?” Pia prompted.
“Such a shock, of course I said I’d look after Moritz while they are away.”
“Shock?” I queried.
“Moritz?” Pia added.
“The dog,” she turned to the house, “Moritz boy, come to Angie.”
In short order an elderly Alsatian arrived at ‘Angies’ feet, well I know, after Fritz you’d think I’d know better but Moritz looked like he needed a fuss.
“The family?” Pia suggested.
“Oh yes, so sad, the eldest daughter, you know her yes?”
“Claud?” my blood ran cold.
“Yes, she has taken a bad turn; they’ve gone to Baden to be with her.”
Maddy Bell © 19.11.2014
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