makinglies | There are no cats in America

Entry tags:

There are no cats in America

Moving to a new country is difficult but if you're a child it seems impossible. True, things had been terrifying with the bombings and soldiers and the news of that their government had been doing behind the country's back. Thirteen years old, but Albert still reads the news, still listens to the radio. Soon after they're on a boat, crammed in with other emigrants chattering in a cacophony of languages, pushing and shoving. There were other children, but mostly Albert opted to keep to himself, helping his mother but otherwise holed up in their tiny shared cabin and waited to see the spines of Lady Liberty's crown welcoming them to what his mother calls "a land of new opportunities". Albert, always a practical child, just hoped it would be a land of fresher air.

It's been a few months since then. They'd arrived at the start of summer with New York City sweltering. With his mother working two jobs and a little saved up, they'd managed to get a small fan and some other things for the little apartment, but despite the hardships they'd managed to make a nice little life for themselves in this new country. Their community on the lower east side is friendly and breathes of home in Dresden, or so Albert feels. He even made friends with the old man who runs the bookshop on the corner, his son having been claimed by the war on the side of the Allies. He'd also been named Albert, and the man would often reminisce in German and sometimes share the haribo candies he'd always have around. He may be the only friend Albert had made, but he was content with that.

Even so, as the weather turned colder and fall set in, Albert's mother enrolled him in school. Albert had always liked school back home, strict as it was, but here in America it seemed all the other boys were so loud and tall and frightening. He'd mostly stayed away from other children since arriving, but now he's been thrown in the front of a class and as the teacher pushes him to introduce himself to the room every eye is on him and he can't help but fidgit and look anywhere except at all the unfamiliar faces.

"Ha-hallo, I-I am Albert Heinrich..." He trails off, brutally self conscious at his accent and flushing a red which he knows reaches his ears. The teacher - Miss Jones - waits for an interminable moment to see if he'll say something else, then simply shoos him to an empty desk with some annoyance and begins to write the day's lesson on the blackboard. Safe for the moment, Albert sinks as low as he can in his seat and pulls his oversized newsy cap down around his ears in an attempt to hide the fact that they're still pink.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Nearly every other kid Jet talked to had the opinion that most days were boring and were better spent daydreaming about other things. While he couldn't stop himself from occasionally daydreaming when the teacher started talking about something he knew, he payed attention for the most part.

He liked school. His father had something to say about that fact, but Jet's father was exactly the reason the red head didn't mind being there, even during the boring parts. It was better than the alternative.

However, the other kids were right about one thing and that was that 'new' and 'interesting' things didn't really happen much on a day-to-day basis, so when they did, it was cause to pay extra attention. The little German boy didn't seem like much, he was obviously one of those shy types, not unlike Jet had been when he'd been much younger, only this kid seemed to have never had any cause to grow out of it.

Even after the kid--Albert?--had been directed to sit down, Jet found himself watching him a little longer. He wasn't dumb, he knew about the war and the German's part in it, but his greatest brushes with it had been mentions in media both entertainment and news and this boy hardly seemed scary or intimidating at all, so Jet found himself more intrigued than anything else.

Worth checking out later, but for now there was a lesson to pay attention to.

A quiet child, Albert manages to stay quiet and ignored for the rest of class. Or so he thought. As it turns out, what he took to be the other boys ignoring him was in fact a small group of other boys taking note of him and not saying anything until recess.

They catch him in the hall leading out to the yard, before the stairs. One large boy with wildly curly blond hair stands in his way while the other two flank him, Albert trying to hold onto his books as the two brunette boys, one with braces, circle like sharks. It's Braces that speaks up. "So you're a Kraut, eh? Looks like yer pop missed one, Franky."

"Looks like," the other brunette thumb his nose, green eyes never leaving Albert's face as he struggles to stand his ground and lock his knees to keep them from knocking. "I don't think he'll give us any trouble though. Will you, Kraut?"

The large boy with the gold curls cracks his knuckles ominously.

"N-nie- I-I-I mean, nosir!" It comes out as a squeak and the boys laugh uproariously. Albert wishes he could sink into the ground and never emerge.

"Well then, in the spirit of good ol' American cooperation, why don't you hand over yer lunch money."

"But I-"

The large boy's knuckles creak. Thirty-five cents finds its way there in a hurry.

"Perfect. I think we'll be good friends, Kraut. Don't you, Franky?"

"Oh yeah, great pals."

Braces presses down on Albert's cap and ruffles, taking a seemingly affectionate gesture and turning it into something mildly painful. He catches the tossed coins from Curls as he walks away, Franky flipping Albert's hat off his head as they head for the school yard, leaving Albert to scramble after his hat, juggling his books at the same time, and ending up face first in a miserable pile of both when he drops his history book and topples over it unintentionally.

After an entire summer of deciding he liked America, Albert's suddenly dreadfully homesick.

Jet had been slow in heading for the schoolyard when it came time for recess, so the only part of the conversation he caught as he headed for the corner was a familiar voice calling someone else 'Kraut' and the tell-tale signs of that particular group of boys doing the only thing they were good at.

He rushed around the corner to try and get involved, but by the time he got to their latest victim, they were already gone. Jet knelt by who he soon recognized as the new boy from their class and offered a hand to the kid to help him out, the other one reaching out to grab the fallen hat and offer that as well.

"Hey. You alright? Those guys are a bunch of cazzos." He was no stranger to their brand of bullying since they'd been in the same grade most of his life, but they'd laid off of him once he'd started to fight back and they found easier targets. Like new kids.

Pushing to his hands and knees, Albert looks up through his mess of silver hair to see the burnished copper of the other boy's fringe and stops short for a moment, not sure if this is also deceptive kindness disguising more bullying or actual help. Unsure, he reaches for the hat carefully and then snatches it quickly as if hes certain the other boy will pull it away at the last second. When he doesn't, Albert relaxes a little, fitting the hat back on his head.

"I am okay." He stands on his own, brushing off his shorts and knees and readjusting his suspenders before gathering up his books. "Umm... why are you helping me?"

The question is posed slowly and with very careful precision, Albert trying very hard to pronounce each word the way he's heard on the radio instead of in his somewhat thick accent.

Jet stood as well and shrugged , not really bothered by the other boy's actions. "Because you looked like you needed it. Besides, they're jerks and you're not the first person they've picked on, you're just the newest."

Despite what Albert might think, Jet wasn't really bothered by his accent, he hadn't heard German accents very much and it wasn't like his own family wasn't heavy with them, although Italian accents instead. No, it wasn't the other boy's accent that had his attention, it was his eyes, Jet had never seen eyes like that before. "I'm Jet."

There's a small tug in Albert that he should have some pride, that he should tell this Jet thanks but he didn't need his help, that he's doing just fine... but it's only a small tug and he'd much rather believe that Jet is actually being nice instead of trying to get something else out of him like those other boys. even if he's pretty sure Jet isn't a real name.

"I'm Albert." He holds the stack of books to his chest, the largest already starting to slip. "Why do they do that? Don't the teachers get mad?"

"You're gonna lose those." Jet pointed at the slipping books. Why did anyone bring their books to recess anyway? Wouldn't they just get lost or something? Jet didn't really care enough to ask.

Albert's question earns an eye roll from the other boy. "Nah, unless fists start flying they don't 'notice' anything. That's why you gotta either avoid 'me or stand up to 'em. Though, in your case, I'm gonna guess avoiding isn't your bast option."

They'd succeeded once and if they took offense to the fact Albert was German then they weren't likely to let up anytime soon. But Jet had a thought. "Hey, they're cowards right? They're not likely to bother you if you hang around with others, you should probably find a buddy to have your back, then they might leave you alone."

"Ah!" He scrambles to get the books under control again, one tumbling out and clonking him right on the foot. "Ow..."

Today is really not a good day. He bends down to try and reconfigure the texts in such a way that he can hold them without the whole pile going tumbling.

"Mutter says I should just keep my head down and stay out of trouble." She's right, too. He's not stupid, they're not just picking on him because he's weaker, but also because of his weaker station. Even the teachers seem uneasy about having a German boy in their midst. "Unless you're offering, I don't know anyone like that."

He's usually alone, and generally that suits him. Even back in his home country he was quiet and unassuming, always in the back of the class with his books. He enjoyed playing outdoors too, and with all the organized sports he wasn't lacking in exercise, but if left to his own devices Albert generally just liked to read.

Jet watched Albert messing with his books and finally couldn't keep the question to himself. "Why do you need all those anyway ? Wouldn't it be better if you left 'me in the room?" At least then they wouldn't keep being dropped.

"But yeah, I mean, sure. It 'a just me and this friend of mine, Natalie, but you're welcome to hang with us. At least maybe then they won't bother you anymore." At least for the rest of the day, Jet didn't really think they'd stay away forever. But maybe He'd actually be able to do something about it next time they tried something.

"So, how about it?"

"I was going to read." He just hadn't decided which yet, gosh Jet. Though at this point, he's not sure how much time is left at break.

"Um... They won't pick on you for being friends with me?" Are they friends? Will Natalie be nice too or also have hangups about hanging out with a 'Kraut'? There's a tug in his chest that he shouldn't have to worry about this, that this is probably the same way his few Jewish classmates or the children of Socialist families felt before they'd left school back home during the war. If that's so, would Albert be forced to leave too? His mother says America isn't like that, but it's still a very real fear.

He looks down at his shoes, face falling considerably after the glimmer of hope that he could possibly make a friend. "I-I don't want to get you or your friend into trouble."

Jet shook his head and even scoffed a bit but slung an arm around Albert's shoulders to lead him outside; there wasn't a whole lot of time left, but there was enough to at least let Natalie know he hadn't blown her off and introduce their new friend.

"Naw, man, don't worry about it. Sorry to tell you this, but we're not much better than you on the social ladder, you know? Besides, Frankie, his friends and I have already had a few words, they're opinion of me's not going to get any better if I don't associate with you, so fu- forget them." Right. Still at school, the last thing he needed was for some teacher to get bent out of shape about it and call his Pa.

Once they were outside, he led them to a little grouping of tables where a girl with long dark, almost black, hair sat in a bright sundress and leggings. As soon as she spotted them, her look of annoyance faded to a smile and she waved. "Jet! I thought you weren't ever going to show! It's not nice to leave a lady waiting, you know." The look on her face said that she'd just realized the red head wasn't alone and she looked the new boy up and down curiously. "Who's your friend?"

It's an unconscious thing, but Albert approaches from half behind Jet, as if the taller boy is a shield against the unknown. He may still be hesitant to use the word friend but at least he has a small measure of Jet. This Natalie he has no idea about.

Still, he was brought up to be polite and even though he's half hiding behind the redhead, he nods to Natalie and at the very least makes eye contact for maybe half a minute before looking back down at his shoes. "G-gutt morning fra- I mean... Miss Natalie. My name is Albert Heinrich."

Jet lightly pushed Albert closer to the table before sitting across from the girl himself. "He's shy. Hey, maybe you two bookworms can read together and compare notes."

He smirked as she shot him a half-hearted glare. "Like you don't read all the time too." There was a mumbled 'Not at recess' from the younger boy, but Natalie ignored him in favor of the shy boy. "Hi, Albert, I'm Natalie. Take a seat, I promise I only bite Jet." She smiled kindly at Albert and patted the spot next to her. "You're German, aren't you? Oh, does that mean you're new?"

"Yes. I moved here in June with my mu-" he cuts himself off, making a concerted effort to try and pronounce the English words in an American way. He ends up with some strangely elongated vowels and harsh consonants as his mouth tries to manipulate the unfamiliar way of speaking. "Mother."

Albert blinks between the two of them then sits where Natalie indicated, placing his books on the table top and hoping neither of them comment on how red he knows his face is burning. Meeting new people is so difficult! But their exchange about books has his interest and he shyly looks up at the both of them from under his fringe. "You both like to read too?"

Jet gave a non-committal shrug in response to Albert's question and put his chin in his hands. Yes, he did, but he didn't really talk about it, he didn't want to accidentally say the wrong thing. Besides, Albert's attpts at sounding American were painful at best.

"You don't have to try and not have an accent, lots of people have them, doesn't bother us any, right?"

He looked to Natalie who shook her head and smiled. "What kind if books do you like, Albert?"

"All kinds!" He warms up a bit, posture less closed off as he leans in. "I like history the best, but philosophy too! And poetry. Anything where they write about how people think is interesting to me."

He looks from Natalie to Jet. "What kinds do you like?"

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Leo had always been nice to him, nicer than anyone else in the gang around his neighborhood and they hadn't exactly been unkind either.

He was going to join them, he'd decided earlier in the week. Home...home wasn't home anymore, it was an exercise in walking on glass and white hot coals and he'd had enough. He'd leave, run away from home and stay with his new family, people who didn't hate him for existing and wouldn't beat him for breathing the wrong way. Maybe he could even still go to school...if not he'd just find times to sneak over to Albert's like he usually did, it could only be an improvement.

On top of that, Leo had started getting closer to him, letting their hands touch, looking at him a little longer than necessary, sometimes even going so bold as to pulling Jet into some dark place to make out a little; it wasn't the guy who invaded Jet's dreams at night, but it was new and exciting and more than he'd ever thought possible, considering.

So when Leo had mentioned he could snag his uncle's car for the weekend...well, Jet didn't see a reason to back out. Albert was usually busy with one thing or another Fridays and Jet would be lying if he said the idea of being with someone didn't send a thrill through him.

It seemed perfect. And it had been, at first.

They'd gone out for a bite and some music right after school, the much older boy having picked the teen up in the aforementioned car. Then they'd parked in some ally somewhere and moved to the backseat.

Jet's heart was thumping a mile a minute and there were butterflies in his stomach but he refused to be seen as some nancy and admit to any of that, so he just followed lead. He knew what to do with his lips and it wasn't hard to figure out where his hands were supposed to go, the rest he'd gotten a vague idea of from the few sources he could find while still remaining discreet, but the blond knew what he was doing, so Jet was rolling with it.

It had felt good to do more than a little kissing, to feel hands on him and to touch in return, but it was once those hands had sunk lower and began palming at him through his jeans that the first shock of hesitation and discomfort flashed through him.

He wanted this, he did, he was ready, but...not like this not with him; Leo was a nice guy but he didn't put electricity in Jet's blood like the red-head wanted, he didn't make Jet feel important, wanted sure, but about as wanted as any of the other guys chasing some piece of skirt.

Maybe he was too sentimental, but this wasn't what he wanted.

He felt his hand tugged down to touch and fondle and that feeling of being sick only grew worse and Jet yanked his hand back.

"Stop, I don't want to do this anymore! Sorry...but it doesn't feel right. I think I should--"

Jet had been reaching for the door behind him when his wrists were suddenly being clamped down on and pushed to the seat, forcing the teen to follow and lay back or face painful twisting at an awkward angle. A hard kiss--more teeth than lips--was pressed on him and he tried to pull away. "Stop! Get off!!"

Panic flooded him as Leo used his superior strength and the fact Jet couldn't move around as easily with all his long limbs to keep him firmly pressed to the backseat. "No way're you leaving me out to dry like that, you've been leading me on, Gianni."

The younger teen tried to struggle again, this time attempting to get a leg between them to keep his assailant off, but the angle wasn't right and he found himself being wrenched over so his face was shoved into the upholstery and his arms were bent back behind him to be held in place.

"I'm gonna take what I was promised and the best part is you can't tell anyone or you'll get outed as a queer." The threat sent an unpleasant tremor through him: endure this in silence and let the scumbag get away with it or write up something that might as well be a death sentence for them both.

Either way, it meant this night was ending with more bruises and the memory of hands on him making him sick with the thought that he'd brought this on himself.

"Stop--Don't do this!" Please.

Jet was drifting away.

It's not something Albert could really put his finger on when, but suddenly he noticed his best friend wasn't around like he'd used to be. They still saw each other at school, most days anyway, though Jet seemed to be cutting out earlier and earlier. He didn't wait for him after piano tutoring anymore, didn't ever ask if he wanted to go to the comic shop or the park. It makes Albert's insides twist uncomfortably at the distance, and with worry.

He'd seen the bruises sometimes, when Jet would take a jump shot during basketball and his shirt would ride up, or when he'd come in with a black eye in the morning and no one had seen him fighting the day before. Something was going on that Jet wasn't telling him, and he would bet a week's worth of lunch money that it had to do with Leo and his gang.

Leo'd been lurking around a lot the past few months. He was much older and a drop out greaser and it made Albert's skin crawl just to be anywhere near him, but Jet had decided he liked Leo and the last thing Albert wanted to do was get Jet angry at him. That seemed like a fate worse than death. So he just conveniently found something to occupy himself with whenever Leo came around to peer over the fence and offer them smokes through the chain link.

Today had been the worst. He and Jet had fought. Nothing knock down, drag out but Jet had snapped at him when Albert pushed harder to know why Jet's arm was a patchwork of band-aids and angry red scrapes. Albert had been left to finish his lunch alone and when the bell rang, Jet walked right out the door without even a 'see you later'.

What the heck had he done wrong? He'd just been worried. Jet had no real reason to get so upset and this is the last time Albert's going to take it sitting down - he decided in the middle of piano practice, slamming his hands down on the keys in a dissonant scramble and unfolding from the bench. He's grown in the past few years; not quite Jet's height but much taller than he was, and broader too. He's taller than his piano teacher anyway. "I have to go. Thank you for the lesson, I'm sorry."

He hurries out leaving a bewildered teacher behind.

It's not hard to figure out where Leo's taken Jet. Jet had been talking about it for days, enthusiastically singing the greaser's praises and those of his car, a chromed out Chrysler with fins and rims and the works. Sometimes Albert had to wonder if Jet really liked Leo or just his ride. Still, with something so flashy it wasn't hard to track down after a small string of questions to bystanders.

The car is parked in a little back alley between tall buildings, casting a heavy pall over the area. Dumpsters from some restaurant line the brick and the stench stings Albert's eyes as he turns the corner, trying to hold onto his anger from earlier in the face of seeing the car shake and movement in the back seat.

Oh...

His heart sinks as some things click into place, but the anger doesn't fully have time to seep out of him before a muffled desperate cry manages to carry to his ears.

"Stop--Don't do this!"

It's Jet. He knows it's Jet and his books and bag are left in a heap at the mouth of the ally as Albert runs full tilt to the car. The door rattles once as he wrenches at the door handle, then the lock buckles under the strain and flies open, the silver-haired boy already reaching into the car to yank Jet out, spilling him unceremoniously but safely onto the pavement in whatever state of undress he happens to be in.

There's not even a pause before Albert swings around and embeds his knuckles in Leo's nose with a ferocious cry and without a warning.

Luckily, Leo hadn't gotten far in undressing Jet, he was more exposed than the younger teen having yanked his pants down first before undoing and working at Jet's. It would have been the first thing he'd have attended to if it weren't for the fact he was left stunned where he'd landed on the ground.

Nearly half a decade together and Jet had never seen Albert throw a punch, he wasn't even convinced his friend knew how, but by the sounds of pain coming from the Italian boy and the blood beginning to seep through the fingers clutched over his face, Albert had either been holding out on him or had some impressive beginner's luck.

But then there was hate and rage in Leo's eyes that tore at Jet's insides and reminded him of just why he'd never seen Albert throw a punch: Jet was always doing it for him and if this turned into a fight...he doubted Albert could hold his own and Jet knew he was powerless against the older boy. That much had already been proven to him.

Nevermind why he was there when he was supposed to have lessons, if Albert hadn't been there...Jet felt like throwing up at the thought.

He staggered to his feet and refastened his pants before throwing his arms around the shorter boy to hold him back. Even after everything, his hold was more protective, a sign he was still trying to protect his friend even while he was the one being protected.

"Albert, stop, we need to go-"

Edited 2014-01-22 07:51 (UTC)

"If you come anywhere near him again, it'll be more than your nose bleeding, schweinhund." Jet may be holding onto him protectively but the German's voice holds not a trace of fear or even fire. It's all ice, through and through. The sort of ice that causes cars to skid and ships to sink, that boys like Leo may fall through and find it solid above them before they can scramble out of the freezing water. The kind of ice that bites. And takes limbs.

Leo may be worthless, but he's not stupid. When Albert grabs Jet's arm and hauls them both back for the street, he doesn't follow.

Knuckles bleeding from just how hard his fist impacted with Leo's face, Albert picks up his bag and his books and keeps them walking, staying on populated streets. He's learned quite a lot about bullies in his last for years, despite Jet's attempts to protect him, and he knows they always try to get you alone.

That and he's afraid he might punch Jet too if he didn't have people around to stop him. Or something else.

"I knew that guy was bad news from the moment we met him." He still sounds cold, words hissing frost through clenched teeth. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I..." He didn't know. He did, but he didn't. He'd been thinking how he'd just wanted a place to fit in and a group of people to call family, but how was he supposed to explain that when he'd never once told Albert about why Jet's family wasn't good enough. That's why they'd fought.

Albert had just been asking after Jet's messed up arm out of concern and Jet had thrown it and his anger back in his friend's face. The one friend he had.

He'd gone looking for a family while forgetting he already had one.

"I should've listened to you. Al...I'm sorry."

Sorry for choosing the people he'd known a couple months over the person he'd known for the last four years. Sorry he'd nearly slept with some scumbag when the only person who honestly held his attention was currently attached to his arm and obviously beyond pissed with him. Sorry for not telling Albert the truth for so long that he took out the fact the other teen didn't know Jet's reasonings on Albert.

"Damn right you should have listened!" There's a spark this time, something bright and burning in the winter of Albert's discontent. "What the hell, Jet? Why would you put yourself in danger like that? Why would you keep going back to someone who hurts you? I would never--"

The realization hits Albert like a tank and stops his words dead, color rising in the German's cheeks. He faces front again, mouth a tight and quivering line as he keeps striding towards home. It's not too far, thank goodness, because he's afraid he already said too much and a lengthy walk would just make it easier for Jet to question him. Still, he only let go of the redhead's arm when he needs to fumble for his key.

"The first aid stuff's in the bathroom. My mom won't be home until late but there's food in the refrigerator." He takes that opportunity to separate for the moment and clear his head, stomping to his room to dump his books on the floor and moodily kick off his shoes. Now that the adrenaline has worn off all he has left is a hollow fluttery feeling in his stomach, aching and bleeding knuckles, and the worry that his friendship with Jet is somehow on the line.

There was so much thrown at him at once that Albert is spared of questioning after his outburst and left to retreat to his room without argument.

It had never occurred to Jet that Albert might think that the few bruises he'd caught sight of were caused by the Leo because they hadn't been. He almost said something about it not being the older boy, but a combination of realizing he'd be faced with the question of 'who' and the fact Albert had cut himself off.

What was the other half of that sentence? Albert would never stay with someone who hurt him? Jet certainly hoped he wouldn't...or did he mean he wouldn't hurt Jet like that? Jet knew that.

It was becoming apparent Albert was one of the few people close to him who didn't.

Jet went to the bathroom, got the first aid kit and followed the German to his room. "Let me see your hand." He'd gotten better at patch jobs thanks to his dad, so it only seemed fair that he attend to the older boy's hand.

The late afternoon light doesn't quite reach the small window in Albert's bedroom thanks to the buildings surrounding, so he's turned on the light and his face is cast in gentle shadows from his perch against the head of the bed, shoulders hunched in a sullen posture, occasionally nursing bruised knuckles. When Jet comes near to ask for his hand, Albert merely thrusts it towards him without looking.

Silence reigns for several minutes, Albert trying not to wince at the iodine burning his hand. He watches Jet's long fingers in silence until he can't quite stand it anymore. "Don't go around with Leo anymore."

Jet worked carefully but thoroughly, being gentle when he could and firm when he needed to be. Albert's mom was sure to notice at some point and while he wasn't sure what Albert would tell her, Jet was sure she wouldn't be happy regardless; he needed to be thorough enough to be sure nothing would get infected, it was the least he could do.

"It wasn't him, you know. Leo never hit me." He'd never done anything to Jet until tonight...but what he'd tried to do was enough that Albert hardly had to say anything for Jet to listen.

"I won't, though. I'll take different ways home and to school and it'll blow over." He hoped so, anyway, his apartment was in the 'Little Italy' section of the city and that was Leo's gang's turf so he'd have to tread lightly. That wasn't worth mentioning, though.

He finished bandaging Albert's hand and his fingers lingered a moment while he tried to gather what was going through his head so he could say it right.

"Thank you...for saving me. I don't think-- If you hadn't--" No matter how much he tried to gather, his thoughts were like sand escaping through his fingers and he couldn't get them past his lips. He shook his head and let go of Albert's hand. "Just...thanks."

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 10

There are no cats in America

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject