Mallenbrandt, the gym teacher, blew his whistle: Change sides. The wind was from the east, and the crematorium between the United Cemeteries and the Engineering School was operating. Through the stalks of grass the caretaker's black cat showed a white bib. A trimotored plane crept across the sky, slow and loud, but couldn't drown out my tooth. On the cinder track the sprinters were practicing starts or limbering up. My tooth kept saying one word, over and over again. In the stadium, handball goals were being made thick and fast on both sides. We had lost hands down and were waiting for the return game. The tournament had been going on for two hours. Hotten Sonntag rubbed his bat with a woolen stocking. The cat belonged to the caretaker and was black. A few of the boys were chewing or plucking at blades of grass. A cat sauntered diagonally across the field and no one threw anything at it. I ought to have gone to the dentist, but they wouldn't let me because I was hard to replace on the team. “… and one day, after Mahlke had learned to swim, we were lying in the grass, in the Schlagball field.
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