Die Kirsche

Part 1

Die Kirsche

Wilhelm Schwartz had been living in America since the age of eight, and today, it was the summer of 1958. He'd been attending Rydell High School, and this coming term, he'd be a senior. He was now sipping a cherry soda on the beach, proudly wearing his black leather jacket, which had been emblazoned with the T-birds' logo two years ago after Kenicke had put in a good word for him for repairing several damaged components to his car.
"Well, well, well," said a voice next to Wilhelm. "Bill Schwartz, how's it goin'?"
"Danny Zuko," Wilhelm said, nodding. "It's going pretty well. How's your luck with the Frauleins?"
"I just met this girl a couple weeks ago named Sandy. She's Australian."
"Austrian, you mean?"
"Australian, Bill. With the kangaroos? God, you are so Eurocentric."
"What do you want from me, Herr Zuko? I'm German."

"Whatever you like," said Danny as Wilhelm finished his soda.
"Want me to pick you something up from the beach house, Freund?"
"Nah, I'm good," said Danny casually with a wave of his hand.
"In that case," said Wilhelm, "I'm off to the beach house for now. The ladies don't catch themselves, ja?" Wilhelm sauntered to the beach house and was about to order another soda when a girl's voice resounded in front of him.
"Hey Schwartz!"
Wilhelm looked to the voice's source. "Ach du lieber, what's this?"
"Don't play coy with us, come here and sit down!"
"Want a soda, anyone?"
"Cherry!" another girl's voice called out.

"Ausgezeichnet! I didn't think you'd be here, Fraulein Maraschino! Fitting you'd want a cherry soda, ja?"
"How many times do I have to tell you, it's Marty! Now come over here before we die of old age!"
"Two cherry sodas please," said Wilhelm, sliding some money on the counter. When he received the sodas, he sat next to Marty and settled in. "I warn you, if Sonny sees me with you he'll..."
"Oh he won't," said Marty. "You can make sure of that, yeah?"
"Of course I can. Run him over with my BMW and see if he turns into a pancake like in the cartoons."

They all laughed, and Frenchy spoke up. "Remember when Wilhelm thought I was actually French?"
"God!" said Jan. "I am Contractually obligated to hate ze French," she said in an obviously fake German accent. "I am German, ja."
"Of course," said Wilhelm, shrugging. "I am German."
"Lay off, Jan," Marty said with a scoff.
"Marty?"
Wilhelm turned to the voice as Marty did the same. "God's hooks!" he said, surprised. "Look, Sonny, it's not what you..."
"I'm not mad at you, Bill," said Sonny, shrugging. "Marty, I didn't know Schwartz was... one of your pen-pals!" The two left, and Wilhelm looked to Frenchy.
"Oh no," she whispered.
"This cannot end well," agreed Wilhelm.
A few minutes later, Marty reappeared. "Good news, ladies," she drawled unenthusiastically. "I'm single."

Wilhelm narrowed his eyes, feeling both sorry for Marty and glad at the same time... for reasons unknown. Could this be an opportunity? Was he even remotely interested in Marty? These were things he'd have to consider. For now, he decided to remain neutral. "Ach," he said. "A tough break. You have my sympathy."
"Thanks," said Marty, smiling weakly. "I, ah, don't intend to leave the Pink Ladies, by the way."
"No one said you had to," said the girl who'd first called out Wilhelm's name, Rizzo. "Crap happens, Marty, there's nothin' we can do. Men are stupid. Oh... no offense, Schwartz."
"None taken," said Wilhelm. "To be fair most men can be dummkopfs."
"So you said you own a BMW," said Marty. "I didn't think you had a car."
"I just got my license," Wilhelm admitted. "My parents didn't want our insurance to go up, but I got them to cave! Said I'd get a job and pay for my own insurance. Before you ask, I've got weekends off, and it is Saturday."

"So what kind of BMW is it?" Frenchy asked.
"It's a 507 roadster, '55," said Wilhelm. "My parents bought it used. It's black."
"You own a fricking 507?!" a voice said behind him.
"Hello, Kenicke," said Wilhelm. "Yes, I do."
"How'd you manage that?"
"I told my parents I wanted a decent car, and so they bought me a used and, admittedly beat-up 507. As you know, cars are my thing, so I went ahead and spruced it up. It used to be green, but it's black now, with red leather seats. It cost a considerable amount of money to pull off, but that's what a job's for. I work as a clerk at a law firm."

"His dad's a lawyer," Kenicke explained. "Bill wants to study law."
"If I do, my father says he'll take me into his firm."
"That's a nice break," Kenicke said with a nod. "Ah, the guys and I would like to borrow you lovely ladies, if you don't mind."
"Course not," said Frenchy. "Looks like the party's over," said Rizzo. "Coming Marty?"
"I think I'll stay here," she said.
"Alright," Rizzo said, shrugging. "Your call."
Marty sighed and sipped her soda, and Wilhelm leaned back, stroking his glass in thought, narrowing his eyes again.

"Something on your mind?" Marty asked.
"This may be an inopportune time to bring this up," said Wilhelm hesitantly, "but at least I don't mind that you've got pen pals overseas."
"One of them's a marine," Marty said.
"Ooh, a United States Marine," said Wilhelm nervously. "Not sure I can compete with that."
"He's not competition... he's in Korea."
"Ja, that's pretty far," said Wilhelm. "I've got friends in Germany... well West Germany... I still write to, myself. We're thinking of heading back to the Fatherland for Christmas."
"Whereabouts in West Germany?"
Wilhelm smiled. "Dusseldorf," he said. "I'm seventeen, by the way."
"You seem mature for your age. A car, a job... I remember you saying you were into history and classical music."
"Sometimes I feel like an old man trapped in a young man's body," he admitted. Wilhelm smiled, looking into Marty's brown eyes and contemplating. If something were starting, he'd find out soon enough. But for now, he'd have to play it cool.