The Sneeze Factory. Pia Schenk

      1

      This is me and this is my story.

      Since yesterday, I‘m allowed to sit at the front of the class. Right in the middle of the first row, in front of everyone. Exactly in front of Miss Duffner, my favourite teacher.

      I’m not usually allowed to do anything, so I'm really happy about this. Although, I'm not quite sure about the difference between being allowed to do something and having to. Because normally, no one wants to (has to?) sit in the front row, not even if they’re allowed.

      I was quite happy sitting at the back of the class. Then "Duffi" (my German teacher) said that I should sit "there". "There", right in front of her. Because I'm byslexic, and that way she can help me more.

      She didn't explain what a byslexic is. No one else asked either. Maybe everyone else already knows.

      Personally, I have no idea, but I didn't say that in front of the others.

      When I got home I looked for it in the dictionary. We don't have Google (don't tell anyone). But I couldn't find anything at all. I think it has something to do with lexic. Maybe I'm some kind of double-lexic; maybe it's something to do with my genes, or maybe I should ask Mum...

      ...or perhaps I should go straight to Mr Hibschenberger. He's our school "scientist" and he told us all about DNA. That's got a lot to do with genes.

      It's a really special kind of super-mega-tiny spiral that knows everything about everyone, and everyone's got one. At school we're learning about some really cool things now, and I really liked the stuff about DNA. But I can't find it anywhere. I've tried putting little bits of my skin, saliva and hair under the microscope. Nothing. I can't see anything. DNA is so mini-miniscule.

      So even though it's science and not religion, as I can't see it I just have to believe "Hibsch".

      Maybe I should just ask Mum.

      2

      I live with my Mum in a gigantic apartment, on the third floor, with a balcony.

      Mum is obsessed with the balcony. Every Sunday, we have breakfast on it. Outside. Even when it's freezing cold, all dressed up in coats, scarves, gloves and hats. We only stay inside when it's raining. Then we eat in the kitchen and Sunday's gone.

      Dad used to be here too, then he was away a lot, and now he doesn't come at all. Maybe he got fed up with the balcony.

      Mum told me he has a new family, and that's why he doesn't come any more, which is a shame because I would have liked to meet them. I don't have any brothers or sisters, so a new family would be brilliant.

      What's more, Dad knew the answer to everything.

      Everything.

      Absolutely everything!

      Mum and I agree about that.

      Since I'm not very lucky with my family, and because I really wanted a dog, Grandma gave me a rabbit.

      A black dwarf rabbit, all warm and soft.

      As soon as I got him, I took Zorro straight downstairs to the garden. But then I really needed the loo. When I got back, Zorro wasn't there anymore.

      Grandma said that it didn't matter, that she would go and find him, and she'd be back tomorrow.

      I wasn't so sure as Grandma was, but the next day, there was Zorro back in his hutch.

      The funny thing was, he wasn't black any more, but white.

      But Grandma said that was completely normal - “don't worry, he's still

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