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- Herausgeber: kontrabande Verlag
- Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
- Sprache: Englisch
Friends, School, and One Terrible Teacher… Welcome to Ben’s life! Ben dreams of becoming a pilot, but his daily reality is anything but soaring. Between his chemistry teacher’s relentless cruelty, the pressure of school exams, and his family’s expectations, he’s struggling to find his own path. Luckily, he’s got friends to help him through the rough days. But in the middle of all this chaos, how is he supposed to figure out who he really wants to be? A story about dreams, friendship, and the courage to stand up for yourself—because sometimes, you have to land before you can truly take off!
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
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About this Book
Friends, School, and One Terrible Teacher… Welcome to Ben’s life!
Ben dreams of becoming a pilot, but his daily reality is anything but soaring. Between his chemistry teacher’s relentless cruelty, the pressure of school exams, and his family’s expectations, he’s struggling to find his own path.
Luckily, he’s got friends to help him through the rough days. But in the middle of all this chaos, how is he supposed to figure out who he really wants to be?
A story about dreams, friendship, and the courage to stand up for yourself—because sometimes, you have to land before you can truly take off!
Imprint: Published by kontrabande Verlag, Cologne. Landsbergstraße 24 · 50678 Cologne, Germany
Unabridged new edition © 2025 Mac Conin
This book was originally published in German under the title ‚Himmelsstürmer‘ by kontrabande Verlag, Cologne in 2025.
Cover image & design: kontrabande Verlag, Cologne
This work is protected by copyright. Any use beyond personal reading requires the publisher’s consent. This includes reproductions, translations, and storage or processing in electronic systems.
We are not responsible for the content of third-party websites referenced in this work. The respective provider or operator remains solely accountable. At the time of linking, no illegal content was detected. eBook production by the publisher.
ISBN epub: 978-3-911831-06-2
ISBN: 978-3-911831-07-9
For more information about our authors and books, visit www.kontrabande.de Enjoy reading!
All characters and events in this book are purely fictional. Any resemblance to real, living, or deceased individuals or places is purely coincidental.
If you think you recognize yourself, suspect similarities to others, or believe you’ve identified someone—congratulations on your vivid imagination.
To Birgit, Mika and Aidan
“If you don’t let go, you can’t start something new.”
— Jojo Moyes, Me Before You —
Epilogue One
“A shooting star!”
“Nah, that’s a plane—red and green lights. Flipper, you’re such an idiot,” Ben says.
“Of course it is, with navigation lights,” Philip laughs.
Like so many summer nights before, they’re lying on the garage roof, talking about life, the world, whatever crosses their minds, staring up at the night sky. Climbing out of Philip’s window is just a small step, but once you’re up here, it feels like a whole different world. A bag of chips, a cold drink—not the worst place for a conversation.
Tonight, the sky is clearer than usual. It’s warm, quiet, with barely any noise from the street below.
“And there, the Big Dipper—what was that about extending the handle?”
“Extend it, and you’ll roughly get to the Evening Star. Venus. One of the brightest spots in the sky. In between, you’ve got Arcturus and Spica.”
“Yeah, that’s definitely not in the chemistry book. Where’d you even learn that?”
“Pilot training. Read about navigation once.” Ben grins. “But hey, at least you recognize something. Didn’t think you had it in you. Any more chips? I’m starving. Or maybe McDonald’s or something?”
“You are so weird—and such a glutton. Honestly, you should be rolling off this roof by now.”
“My mum says the same thing—‘You’ll eat us out of house and home’… blah, blah, blah… But God forbid I don’t eat like a horse. Then she’s all worried, dragging me to the doctor, thinking something’s wrong.” Ben shakes his head. “And if the food didn’t taste good? Seriously, full-on family crisis.” His voice carries a hint of melancholy.
“I mean, I’d sign that right away. The portions at your place are a full-on assault on any waistline. But she’s really sweet, though.”
“Mhm.”
Philip hesitates for a moment. “So, do you feel ready for chemistry? Your retake is in three days.”
“Man, I seriously don’t even care about that right now. I’m lying here, and I’m hungry.”
“I’d be freaking out. What if it doesn’t work out? I do think you’ll pass, after all the studying we did. Even though Meving is such an asshole.”
Ben is thinking about something else entirely. “We should find a new spot to watch the stars. There’s too much city light here. More space, less clutter. Everything feels too cramped lately.”
“Yeah, we can do that. But seriously, aren’t you even a little nervous?”
“No. You know what? I’ve decided—I’m not taking the retake.”
“WHAT? Are you out of your mind?” Philip bolts upright. “All that studying—for nothing?”
“Flipper, I’ve made up my mind, for real. Thought it through. I’m going to start an apprenticeship or something else. No more teachers treating me like crap, especially not that asshole Meving.”
“Dude, when did you decide this? You’re seriously messing with my head right now!”
“Honestly? Beginning of summer break. Meving’s never gonna let me pass—and I’m not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me fail. I’m leaving on my own terms, head held high. I’ll do an apprenticeship, then finish school later, and I’ll still become a pilot. Just watch—I’ll leave you all in the dust.”
“Ben! This is—this is insane. Why didn’t you tell me? You’re my best friend!” Philip looks completely shaken.
“Yeah, maybe I should have. Might’ve been better. But then—our summer would’ve been ruined.”
“What? I don’t get it. Ben, why? Why would it have been ruined?”
“Because then we would’ve had to face the fact that things change. That things end. That we won’t see each other as much. I’ll be stuck working while you’re still trudging from chemistry to German to gym class.”
“Man, I can’t believe this. This is really messing me up.”
“Look at it this way—this summer was wonderful. Let’s not forget that. And let’s be real, you’ve got an awesome family, you’re smarter than most people, and you’ll go to college, become a professor, make tons of money. Nice wife, fancy car, at least five kids and all that. Me? I’ll always be ‘the greengrocer’s son’ at school. I realized I need to get out of here.”
“And your dad? What does he say? Is he okay with this?”
“What do you think? My parents were devastated. They always dreamed of having a son who’d take over the store, do better than them. We talked for a long time, really long. In the end, they understood that I have to find my own path. But that doesn’t mean they’re happy about it.”
“So, what happens now? Will we still see each other? Not at school anymore. That’s really sad. Do the others know yet?”
“Nope—you’re the first. And yeah, things will be different.” He pauses, thinking. “I won’t have much time anymore, probably none at all. We’ll see. But one day, I’ll roll up in a Ferrari with two blondes and show you what the high life is all about. You know—kissing, girls, the whole deal. And then I’ll be off again, to America. Or maybe even to the stars.”
“Life’s too short to be an asshole”— unknown —
… Nine Weeks Left
The school bell shrieks through the hallways of the high school. Ben pushes his way through the crowd of students. Everyone is heading to class, moving in different directions. His backpack drags him down like a rock. Absolutely no motivation for this lesson.
“Wait up, Ben! Hold on a second!” Philip calls, maneuvering through the sea of students just like Ben.
“Did you do the chemistry homework? I didn’t get all of it. Not that it’s surprising with him as a teacher.”
“Dude, you can’t be punished for something you didn’t do. That’s the law.”
“So… you didn’t do it?”
Ben pulls a face and shakes his head. “Nope. Didn’t feel like it. That worm’s gonna tear into me anyway, whether I did the work or not. Might as well save myself the effort. Just a few more tests, then it’s vacation time. After that, he can kiss my ass.”
Philip smirks and pats him on the shoulder. “He can’t single you out every time. Maybe he’s in a good mood today—maybe the sun’s shining, or who knows what makes an asshole like that happy.”
“He always has a bad day,” Ben mutters.
They reach the chemistry classroom, home turf of the dreaded Mehlwurm—the Flour Worm. The door is open, and Meving is already seated at his desk. His thick glasses perch on his nose, a few wispy hairs circling his half-bald head, glistening in the light as if oiled. His scrawny body is lost inside a baggy, ill-fitted jacket. In front of him, a stack of papers. Tap tap tap—his bony fingers drum impatiently on the pile, as if nailing them all to their desks in advance.
Philip and Ben sigh in unison—this is not a good sign. Meving has a reputation.
“Sit down, Ben!” Meving barks without looking up. “Late again. Not that I expected any different. Comes and goes as he pleases, this good-for-nothing.”
The bell rings, signaling the start of class.
“But it just rang,” Ben says. Philip nods in agreement.
“Don’t get smart with me. Sit down and shut up. And wipe that dumb look off your face, Berger. I see everything.”
Ben swallows hard and reluctantly trudges to his seat, shooting Philip a look. Philip gives him an encouraging nod.
“Always at your service,leş herif1,” Ben mumbles under his breath as he slides into his chair. This is going to be a long lesson.
“Now, let’s see how much this class actually knows. I can only hope it’s more than you, Bariss. But honestly, I doubt it.”
“It’s Bariş—you pronounce it ‘Bah-rish,’” Ben corrects him.
“Oh really? Bariss…” Meving sneers. “The crumb thinks he’s smarter than the cake. Adorable.”
He smirks. “Notebooks out. We’re having a test. Time to see if anything has made it into your thick skulls these past weeks. Well? Hurry up! I don’t have all day.”
A collective groan rises from the class. Meving’s tests are legendary—and brutal. The questions never match the material they’ve studied. Everyone knows: Meving doesn’t test knowledge, he tests survival.
“And here’s a nice, simple question for anyone who actually knows anything about chemistry… so basically, none of you. Honestly, I don’t know why I even bother. A room full of hollow nuts, and I’m supposed to fill them with knowledge? What a waste of my time.”
Meving hands out a worksheet. Everyone looks down at it and immediately rolls their eyes. Confused glances shoot around the room. What is this? No one has a clue. None of this has ever been covered in class.
“Just as I expected. All I see are blank faces. This is actually quite simple—any elementary school student could solve it. Calculate the equilibrium constant of a reaction as a function of pressure and temperature. Explain, using the concept of free energy, why a particular reaction occurs spontaneously,” he reads aloud from the page. “What’s with the grumbling? Quiet in the back. And so you don’t think I’m being unfair, here’s a little free hint: the keyword is Gibbs free energy.”
Meving looks into about twenty pairs of stunned eyes. Only Kazumi Shindo seems to have the faintest idea what any of this means.
“Ah, I see—you love the question. You have thirty minutes. And of course, the results will count toward your final grade,” Meving sneers, clearly enjoying himself. He knows no one can solve it. He paces the front of the classroom, basking in his own superiority.
Kazumi raises her hand. “Dr. Meving, this is far beyond the level of a tenth-grade class. This is more like something from a second-year university chemistry course. Would you like a general explanation or exact formulas and calculations with an example? That might take longer than thirty minutes. I don’t think most students here will be able to complete this.”
“Well, well, the wisdom of the East,” Meving mocks. “If you can do it, then go ahead, Miss Know-It-All. Looks like you’ve been stuffing yourself with knowledge using chopsticks.”
“Thank you. Yes, I’ll do my best, Dr. Meving. Also, my parents are from London.”
“Oh really? Would never have guessed. And yes, I highly recommend you do your best. Five minutes down already. The rest of you, get to work. Chop chop, you empty-headed walnuts, unless you want another F.” He’s clearly having fun. The class groans.
Lukas raises his hand. “Come on, Dr. Meving, this is so boring. Can’t we do some actual experiments? Something that explodes? Not these lame assignments no one cares about.”
“Hartwich, shut your mouth before you explode.”
“Oof, that’s so unfunny. You’re in a real mood today, huh? That actually makes me kinda sad.” The whole class chuckles. “Seriously, don’t you have any cool experiments? I mean, be honest—this worksheet is totally uncool and definitely doesn’t spark joy.” He grins at the class. Lukas is the class clown.
“Mr. Hartwich,” Meving hisses, enunciating each word. “I am sick of your insolence. One more word, and things will explode.”
Lukas can’t resist. “So experiments are happening. Awesome! Thanks, Dr. Meving. You’re so reliable.”
The class snickers, heads down, not wanting to draw attention to themselves. Except for Lukas—Lukas doesn’t care. His dad will smooth things over. Or not. Either way, Lukas will be fine. A born optimist. A rich born optimist. He’ll be successful, with or without chemistry. And he knows it.
Ben stands up. “Dr. Meving, I’m pretty sure this isn’t part of our curriculum, and that we can’t reasonably be expected to take this test. I have no idea what this is supposed to be, and I’m pretty sure no one else does either—except Kazumi. I’m not taking this test.” He sits back down.
“Of course. Once again, our young Turkish friend with the big mouth,” Meving sneers. “Not that I expected you to know anything at all. You are, without question, the single most hopeless student I’ve ever had the misfortune of teaching. Always behind, completely clueless, constantly late, and yet—always running your mouth. You are a burden to any learning institution.”
Ben has heard this rant before. He’s angry but doesn’t let it show. “It doesn’t matter if I take this test. Even if I somehow knew what to write, I’d still get an F—because it’s me. If I turn in nothing, I’d get the same grade anyway. So why bother? I bet the rest of the class agrees with me, right?”
Murmurs of agreement ripple through the room—except in the nerd corner, where Nico and Thomas sit. They look horrified, as if someone just insulted their favorite teacher. They don’t know the answers either, but standing up to Meving? Unthinkable. They keep their heads down, waiting to see how this plays out.
“Well, Bariss, I can’t say I’m surprised. Nothing going on in that head of yours, and on top of that, you’re lazy and disrespectful. This will reflect in your final grade. You might as well get ready for another year in this class. There’s no future for you like this. Why are you even in high school? Honestly, I see you more at a vocational school. Or maybe special ed—there, you might actually stand out with your quarter of a brain.”
Meving is thrilled to have found a new target.
Ben feels his body heat up and cool down at the same time—but he won’t back down now. It wouldn’t change a thing anyway.
“If I remember correctly, your father runs some little Turkish discount shop, doesn’t he?” Meving continues. “Maybe you do understand pressure and temperature—when it comes to tomatoes. You might even find something there better suited to your talents. I’m almost sure of it. Here? Here, it’s just a waste of time trying to get anything into that hollow skull of yours. Let’s hope you’re at least smart enough to sell vegetables—otherwise, I don’t see much of a future for you.”
No one laughs. Not even the nerd section. The whole room holds its breath. Meving is in a really nasty mood today.
“Talent?” Ben finally presses out through clenched teeth. “With you as a teacher? Talent isn’t the issue. Chemistry with you is just another word for waste of time.”
“Well, for once, we agree. You’re welcome to spend the rest of the lesson outside this classroom—or why don’t you go grab something from your culture to eat? A kebab, perhaps? Have a nice day.”
Meving smirks. “Now then—anyone else want to hand in their paper early and wait outside? Or will someone surprise me with an actual attempt? If you don’t know the answers—or you think you’re done—stand up and get out of my sight.”
Several students rise and turn in their blank worksheets.
Elif, who always stands up for everyone, suddenly speaks up. “What is this, Dr. Meving? Is this your new teaching method? Harassing and insulting students?”
“Ah, the outspoken Miss Yilmaz. Another marvel of evolution.” He points at Ben. “Why don’t you join him? If you’re finished, get out.”
Elif hisses something in Kurdish—only “un kurdu2” is clearly audible. The rest is lost in the furious sound of her breath, but no one dares ask what she just said. Given the way she looks right now, it was probably something very bad. Elif is not someone you want to mess with when she’s angry. And right now, she’s absolutely seething. Her already wild curls practically crackle with rage.
Even Kazumi, who usually knows everything and could have easily solved the test, hasn’t written a single thing. She hands in a blank sheet.
Meving is loving this. Class dismissed, mission accomplished. Now he doesn’t have to waste another second on these imbeciles. He was supposed to have a real academic career—at least, that’s what he tells himself. But someone ruined that for him. And now he’s stuck here, wasting his brilliance on these students. Beneath him.
◊
Most of the class gathers at the end of the hallway, arms crossed, faces dark. Frustrated murmurs ripple through the group, but no one dares make the first move.
Elif speaks to a few students, then squeezes Ben’s hand in solidarity. Finally, she steps forward and looks at the others with fierce determination. “I’m going to the principal,” she announces, her voice leaving no room for argument. “We don’t have to put up with this. If that guy’s only here to provoke us instead of actually teaching, that’s his problem—and Principal Schneider’s. Not ours.” She scans the group. “Are you with me?”
A wave of nods follows, along with quiet words of agreement. Some stay silent, clearly relieved that they weren’t Meving’s target today—but too afraid to stand up against him.
“What he’s doing is harassment,” Elif continues, her voice cutting through the group. “And we’re learning nothing. The way he keeps going after Ben—it’s cruel, and it’s gone too far. This isn’t teaching. He’s using us to fuel his own pathetic, maggot-infested ego.”
Philip steps beside her, nodding. “She’s right. We need to take a stand. This is insane. We don’t have to put up with this.”
Elif nods, visibly fuming. “Can someone tell Mrs. Menken that I’ll be late to German? I’m going to the principal.”
“We got it,” Philip says immediately. Lukas nods in agreement.
Without another word, Elif storms off, the fury around her almost tangible, like an electric cloud crackling in the air. Elif is on the warpath.
◊
Philip and Ben walk together toward their next class—German with Mrs. Menken. Their steps feel a little lighter; Mrs. Menken is the kind of teacher most students feel comfortable around. She always takes time for her class, listens when they need her—whether it’s about schoolwork, homework, or just the usual, sometimes trivial, everyday problems. If a student has a concern, she doesn’t just brush it off. She listens. And she helps.
Today, she’s already standing outside the classroom, watching as they approach. She greets them with a slightly concerned but encouraging look. “Well, you two look very motivated. Everything okay?”
Ben meets her gaze with an exhausted expression. “We just survived another chemistry class. That was… brutal. The guy’s got it out for me. He wants me gone—or, I don’t know, maybe he just enjoys humiliating us.” He tries to smirk, but it doesn’t quite land. The frustration and anger are still written all over his face.
Mrs. Menken glances aside and lets out a deep sigh. This isn’t the first time she’s heard complaints about Dr. Meving. The stories about his toxic classroom atmosphere make her furious every time. But as a colleague, her hands are mostly tied. She’s already spoken to Principal Schneider several times. He had listened, nodded with sympathy, even promised to look into it and talk to Meving himself. That was weeks ago. As far as she knows, nothing has changed.
“Keep your head up, gentlemen,” she says at last, her voice warm. “We’ll find a way to deal with this. And if there’s anything I can do, just tell me—I’ll see what I can make happen.”
“You could blow up the chemistry lab,” Ben suggests, his eyes glinting. “But you’d better make sure the explosion’s big enough. That guy’s tougher than he looks. It’s gonna take a lot of TNT.”
Mrs. Menken smirks, then raises an eyebrow. “That bad?”
Ben sighs, crossing his arms. “I need this damn chemistry grade, you know? Everything else is fine. I’m on solid ground in my other subjects. Even in German,” he adds with a small grin. “But that guy—he hates me. No matter what I do, he treats me like I’m some—some camel herder from the middle of nowhere.”
Mrs. Menken places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “The year isn’t over yet, Ben. And listen, you do have talent—despite what some might say. In my class, you’re in safe hands. Here, you learn properly. Though I do expect more than just showing up and taking up space.” She winks. “And let’s be honest, sometimes you can be a bit lazy…”
Ben grins.
“But,” she continues, “you try. You engage. You ask smart questions—sometimes really good ones. And believe me, I’m not the only teacher who thinks that.”
Philip, who’s been listening quietly, finally jumps in.
“Mrs. Menken, you should’ve heard the stuff Meving said today. And it’s not just Ben—though it’s mostly him. He straight-up told him to leave if he didn’t want to take the test and to go get something ‘from his culture’ to eat.” Philip shakes his head, still fuming. “That was way out of line. Just blatant racism. And that test—it was insane. None of us had a clue what was on it. Even Kazumi said it was more like college-level chemistry. Not tenth grade.”
“Well, Kazumi can do that stuff,” Ben shrugs. “But she’s playing in a whole different league.”
Mrs. Menken sighs again and nods. “I understand. And you’re right—this isn’t okay. I promise you, I won’t let this go. I’ll do everything I can to find a solution. But for now, let’s focus on class. I’ll have another talk with Principal Schneider about Dr. Made,”—she clears her throat—“sorry, Dr. Meving.” She gives them a knowing smile and gestures toward the door.
“Oh yeah, by the way—Elli went to Schneider to file a complaint. She’ll be late,” Philip says.
Mrs. Menken nods, taking note. “Well, let’s hope she actually manages to reach Mr. Schneider—and that he listens to her.”
Philip and Ben exchange a glance before following her into the classroom, where at least for the next 45 minutes, things promise to be a little more peaceful.
Ben
After school, Ben and Philip trudge home together, their paths overlapping for a while. The day has taken its toll on both of them—especially that chemistry class.
“How much longer is that bastard gonna get away with this? One day, someone’s seriously gonna beat the crap out of him,” Ben mutters. “But I’m not stupid—at least not that stupid. I’m not gonna let him bait me. That’s exactly what he wants—for me to lose it and punch him in the face.”
“Yeah, and if you did, game over. Forget about any shot at a better grade.”
“Like I’m getting one anyway.” Ben cracks his knuckles. “But just imagine it… Five fingers make a fist3. That fist lands right in his frog face. Crunch. Blood splatters across the classroom. And then the whimpering—the crying… I keep picturing it over and over again.”
“Just… keep it in your head, please.”
“Flipper, I’m not crazy. I know I can’t do it. But the thought alone…” Ben sighs, almost dreamily.
Elli:schneider was a total idiot
Kaz:??
Elli:he completely shut me down. Just a bunch of blah blah blah
“That was Elli. Doesn’t sound like things went well,” Ben says.
Ben:so, is schneider gonna do anything?
Elli:Nope. Basically, he says we should stop being so sensitive
“Yikes. I think Elli’s pissed—better watch what you say,” Philip remarks.
“Oh, I know. Angry Elli is not to be messed with. One wrong word and boom—you’re dead. Completely dead.”
Phil:Are you mad?
Elli:WHAT DO YOU THINK??!!
Ben:Thanks for trying, really. I should’ve gone with you
Elli:No, you’re not diplomatic enough!!
Ben and Philip glance at each other—and burst out laughing. Elli calling someone else undiplomatic? That’s rich. Compared to her, a wrecking ball is a delicate instrument.
Ben:Is he still alive?
Kaz:hihi
Elli:When I left, he was still breathing.
◊
“So, what are you up to later?” Philip asks, rummaging in his jacket pocket for something to eat. He pulls out a slightly melted chocolate bar, breaks it in half, and hands a piece to Ben.
Ben shakes his head. “Nah, I’m done after today. And my dad asked me to help out at the store—got some deliveries to make. Just in the neighborhood, all on foot. Still takes a while, though. Sometimes I get tips, which is nice. Plus, it helps me clear my head.” He grimaces at the memory of chemistry class. “Think we can look up whatever bullshit that toad put in the test? We should be able to find it somewhere, right? Google? ChatGPT? Next time, I don’t wanna sit there looking like a total loser again. Even if it’s pointless—he’ll just pull something else out of nowhere. Maybe Kaz will know, but she doesn’t count.”
“I honestly don’t get how that guy even became a teacher,” Philip says. “Like, sure, maybe he knows his stuff. But what the hell is someone like him doing in a school? He doesn’t give a crap about the curriculum.”
Ben shrugs. “No idea. Maybe for the money?”
“Nah. If it was just about money, he’d have to be really desperate to put up with us. And if he was actually the genius he thinks he is, he’d be making way more in industry.” Philip smirks. “Kazumi said something like that once—said he probably wishes he was running a research lab with hundreds of underlings to torture instead of a classroom.”
Ben snorts. “Honestly? I don’t care what he does—as long as he leaves me alone and doesn’t fail me.”
“What else you got tomorrow? More homework? Anything you need help with? We could do it together.”
“Nah, it’s all easy stuff—I can handle it. But first, deliveries. My dad just texted again—he loves his SMS—checking if I’m good to go. Mehmet’s out sick, so I gotta drop off a few orders in the neighborhood.”
“Wait, people order from your store? I didn’t even know you guys did that.”
“We don’t officially do deliveries,” Ben explains. “It’s mostly older folks who call my dad, and he puts together whatever they need. Some of them he’s known for years—I think he does it more as a favor than anything else.”
“Want some help? Is it a lot to carry? Or just vegetables and small stuff?”
“No crates of water. Well, sometimes, but not often. If you want to help, I wouldn’t say no. I can handle it, but with two people, it’s faster. And more fun.”
“Alright, let me just tell my mom I’ve got a job now and I’ll be home later.
