Our school stands in a castle above the fields and forest. They call it the most elite school in East Germany. It is 1985, and we are supposed to believe that everyone is equal.

Some boys are here because their families have money. Others have fathers with power. My father works in a factory. I am here because I am good at maths.

We are all eighteen or older, but I still feel small as I follow them through the gate.

I slow down at the gate, although I know I cannot stay outside. I hate this place.

Being smart can be dangerous here.

The teacher has brought a problem from the university. I have already solved it by the time he asks for my answer.

“Matthias?”

Last time I got it right, Felix called me the teacher’s pet. Rolf hit me after the lesson.

I look at my solution. Being right is easy. Living with them afterwards is harder.

“Um… zero?” I say, although I know it isn’t.

“Wrong,” the teacher says. “Perhaps you should work harder.”

Rolf kicks my chair. Felix takes the cap off his fountain pen. I jerk away and raise my forearm to block his hand.

“Stop!”

He flicks the pen before I can push his hand aside. A broken line of black ink appears across my white shirt.

“Careful,” Rolf says. “That's his only one.”

“Buy another,” Felix says. “Oh, wait. Your parents can't afford it.”

Felix puts the cap back on. I pull my old cardigan closed to hide the stain. My mother repaired it last week; now I am ashamed of wearing it.

I press my thumb against the place where my mother repaired my cardigan. Her stitches are small and careful. I keep the cardigan closed over the ink on my shirt.

I hate it here. If I give the right answer, they hurt me. If I give the wrong one, they hurt me anyway.

I thought that making myself less noticeable might help. Now I sit very still and wait for the lesson to end.

Nothing ever changes.

A knock interrupts the laughter. When the teacher opens the door, a young man is standing there with his coat over one arm. His fair hair is still wet from the rain.

“Adrian. Our new pupil.”

“His coat is even worse than yours,” Rolf whispers to me.

I look up despite myself. I do not know why they have chosen him, but I am relieved that they have stopped looking at me.

“Sit beside Matthias,” the teacher says.

Adrian sits down and notices the ink on my shirt. He offers me a handkerchief.

For a moment, I almost take it. Then I see Felix watching.

“I don't need it.”

Adrian lowers his hand.

“And you'll share room fourteen,” the teacher adds.

My room.

Felix makes a kissing sound. A few boys laugh.

Oh, fuck. Until now, I could close my bedroom door and get away from them. Tomorrow, they will have something new to laugh about.

By Thursday, everyone has a story about Adrian, though nobody seems to know where the stories began.

“His father was a soldier,” Rolf says in the corridor. “One of those special army units.”

“He’s dead,” another pupil adds.

“Who told you?” I ask.

Nobody answers. Further along the corridor, Adrian walks alone with his black notebook under one arm. I have never seen him without it.

He is nineteen, only a year older than me. Although we share a room, I know almost as little about him as they do.

At lunch, Felix moves his bag from the chair beside him.

“Sit here, Matthias.”

His father is an important trade official. Perhaps that explains why Felix wears new clothes and never seems to worry about the rules.

On Saturdays, I go to his house to help him with maths. At school, however, he usually behaves as if I am not there.

I search his face for a sign that this is another joke. Part of me wants to believe him, but I keep my bag on my knees when I sit down. I am ready to leave.

“He never leaves that notebook alone,” Felix says. “What is he writing? How much he misses his mummy?”

He turns to me. “Take it, Matthias. Do something interesting for once.”

Adrian has never given me a reason to hurt him. I am about to say so when Felix rests a hand on my shoulder.

It is a small thing, but I cannot remember the last time someone touched me without wanting to hurt me. I let the moment pass.

After lessons, Adrian puts his notebook on the table by his bed in room fourteen.

“I’m going to wash my hands.”

The door closes behind him. My hand hangs above the cover for a moment.

I could leave it there. I could tell Felix to get it himself if he is so interested. But I remember his hand on my shoulder and the space he made for me at lunch.

I take the notebook and leave our room without opening it.

Felix is waiting near the stairs. I walk towards him with the closed notebook pressed against my side.

Adrian has done nothing to deserve this. I could still turn back, put the book on the table and pretend I had never touched it.

But perhaps, after this, Felix will stop treating me as someone he and Rolf can hurt whenever they feel like it.

I keep walking. I want to believe that one bad thing can buy me a little peace.

On a quiet landing, I stop. I should probably see what is inside before I give it to Felix.

A cup, a window, our teacher looking tired rather than angry. Ordinary things, but Adrian has made me want to look again.

“They’re beautiful,” I whisper, surprising myself.

Then I turn the page and find my own face. Monday’s line of ink is on my shirt. I recognise every detail, yet I do not look stupid or weak.

I look like someone worth drawing.

How long was he watching me?

I close the notebook as I enter the corridor. Felix is blocking my way, one hand already held out.

“Ah. You got it.”

I hesitate, then pull the book against my chest. A few minutes ago, I wanted to give it to him. Now I cannot.

Behind Felix, Adrian appears. His eyes go straight to the notebook in my arms.

Before I can explain, he slips past Felix and snatches it from me. I had not expected him to move so fast.

“Screw you, new kid,” Felix calls after him. “We’ll get you soon enough.”

Adrian looks back at me once. I wish he would shout.

That night, we lie in our separate beds in room fourteen. Adrian reaches for the light switch.

“I didn’t show them,” I say.

His hand stops. For a second, I think he might turn towards me. I want him to know that I kept the drawings from Felix, although I was the one who took them in the first place.

“Good night, Matthias.”

The light goes out. I stay awake, listening to the quiet space between our beds.

On Friday, we carry the mats across the gym floor. The sports teacher waits until we have put them in place.

“Choose a partner.”

Felix raises his hand before anyone else can speak.

“Sir, I’ll go with the new kid.”

He looks at Rolf, and they share a delighted smile. I have seen that smile often enough to know what it means.

Adrian simply steps forward. I wonder whether he has noticed it too.

Adrian takes off his sports top. Felix does the same, still smiling as he walks towards the mat.

I had noticed Adrian’s hands when he was drawing. Now I notice his shoulders, his chest, the confidence with which he moves.

I look away before anyone can catch me staring. Then I look back.

Felix’s smile has changed. For a moment, he seems less certain of what is about to happen. Then he lifts his chin and faces Adrian.

The teacher gives the signal. Felix rushes at Adrian, who turns with him instead of trying to stop him.

A moment later, Felix is on his back. Adrian holds him firmly against the mat, keeping his own balance without any sign of effort.

The teacher raises a hand. The match is over.

I almost smile. Felix was so certain that everyone would be laughing at Adrian.

Now he looks towards the other boys before he looks at the man who beat him.

“Again,” Felix says. “I wasn’t ready.”

Rolf catches his eye, then runs to the gym door.

“Sir! Someone’s being sick in the toilets!”

The teacher tells us to wait and follows him into the corridor. Rolf points the way, but does not go with him.

He waits until the teacher has disappeared around the corner. Then he turns back towards the mat.

The worried expression has gone. I should have understood sooner.

Felix attacks before anyone gives a signal. As Adrian turns to face him, Rolf catches his ankle from the side. Together they force him down.

Felix twists Adrian’s right arm behind his back while Rolf keeps hold of his ankle. Adrian taps the mat with his free hand: the signal to stop.

Felix looks straight at the tapping hand. There is no chance he has missed it. He pulls harder.

“Let him go,” I say.

Adrian taps again, his face twisting with pain. I know what will happen if I interfere. All I have to do is sit down and pretend I haven't seen anything.

Then Adrian looks at me.

I have already let him down once. I step onto the mat and pull Felix away. Rolf lets go of Adrian's ankle.

“Factory boy.” Felix turns to face me.

Three other boys get up and join him and Rolf. There are five of them now, closing around me. Adrian is still on the mat behind me.

Felix punches me in the mouth. I taste blood before I feel the pain in my lower lip. Someone grabs my grey shirt, stretching the collar, and Rolf knocks me down. My left cheek hits the floor.

Five boys surround me. I cover my head with my arms as they kick my side. Whenever I try to move, another pair of legs blocks the way.

Adrian forces his way through to protect me. Felix swings an elbow into his right eyebrow.

“Stop!”

The teacher is back. The boys step away at once.

“They started it, sir,” Felix says, as calmly as if he had been watching from the other side of the room.

Adrian and I are sitting on the floor when the teacher reaches us. Blood runs from my lower lip. My left cheek is swelling, and Adrian holds a hand above his right eye.

The teacher stands over us.

“Look at the state you've got yourselves into.”

“We didn't start it,” I say.

“Enough, factory boy. This is a school, not your father's workshop.”

“He was helping me,” Adrian says, but the teacher has already decided.

“Detention. Both of you. Every afternoon next week.”

Neither of us gets up. The teacher looks down at us, waiting for an answer I cannot give.

“You two are going to be spending a lot of time together.”