The Circle (Hammer)

4



NEARLY ALL THE students are gathered in the playground. They’re crowded together, jostling for space. The conversations are fervent but hushed. No one knows who’s died, but there are rumours floating around that it’s Elias Malmgren. The teachers have sent everyone home, but clearly nobody’s planning to leave until the corpse is carried out.

The corpse. Rebecka shudders. She and Gustaf are standing outside the front entrance. He’s standing behind her with his arms wrapped around her.

‘Promise that nothing will ever happen to you,’ she says, in a low voice.

Gustaf hugs her a little harder and puts his lips to her ear. ‘I promise,’ he says. He kisses her cheek.

Sometimes Rebecka still can’t believe they’re together. Gustaf has always been the most popular boy in school. The one whose name gets scribbled in the margins of girls’ notebooks over and over again in class. Rebecka had been one of those girls, but she’d never thought he’d notice her. She’s never stood out as anything special. It had almost given her a sense of security to be so sure that she would never get Gustaf. Local football star. A year older. Handsome as a Hollywood actor and almost as far out of reach.

But then at the year-nine spring ball, everything had changed. They’d kissed. And a week later, the night after term had ended, they’d kissed again. Rebecka had had two bottles of cider and was just drunk enough to have the courage to ask, ‘Are we together now?’

‘Of course we are!’ he’d answered, and flashed his wonderful smile. ‘Of course we are!’

Over the summer, her life had changed completely. Everyone knows who Rebecka is now. But, above all, she has changed. It almost scares her, how dependent she’s become on Gustaf. He’s so beautiful. She never tires of looking at or kissing him.

She is more torn over having become ‘someone’. She feels as if the rug could be pulled out from under her at any moment. She can see it so clearly in front of her – how one day everyone will realise that she’s not particularly smart, funny or pretty. More than anything, she’s afraid of the day Gustaf realises that.

A collective gasp runs through the throng of students as the school doors open and the paramedics emerge, carrying a covered stretcher. As they move towards the ambulance, the crowd closes in behind them. Students crane their necks, trying to catch a glimpse of the person lying under the sheet. The paramedics lift the stretcher inside and close the doors. Then they walk calmly to the front of the ambulance and climb in. The sirens whine. Presumably to clear people out of the way, Rebecka guesses. There’s no reason to hurry when you’re transporting a body.

‘It’s him,’ says a panting voice.

Ida Holmström is with her constant shadows, Julia and Felicia. Together they form a blonde version of Huey, Dewey and Louie.

‘It’s Elias Malmgren,’ Ida continues.

‘How do you know?’ asks Gustaf.

‘We heard some teachers talking,’ Julia says.

Ida gives her a murderous look, clearly upset at being interrupted. This is her moment. She looks at Gustaf with puppy dog eyes. ‘Sad, isn’t it?’

Before Rebecka and Gustaf got together, Ida treated her like she didn’t exist. The day after term ended she had called and asked Rebecka if she wanted to go swimming in Dammsjön Lake. As if they had been friends for ever. Although Rebecka realised the absurdity of the situation, she didn’t dare refuse – because she’s terrified of Ida.

‘I don’t understand how anyone can just kill themselves,’ Felicia mumbles.

Ida nods. ‘It’s so incredibly selfish. I mean, like, think of his parents.’

‘He must have been depressed,’ Rebecka says, feeling an instant urge to smack herself for sounding so wimpy.

‘Of course he was depressed,’ Ida says. ‘But everyone’s got problems. It doesn’t mean you have to kill yourself. If everyone felt that sorry for themselves, there wouldn’t be anyone left.’

‘I think he was gay,’ Felicia says.

‘Yeah – I read they often commit suicide,’ Julia adds.

‘He was being bullied, for f*ck’s sake,’ Gustaf cuts in.

Ida meets his gaze and flashes her most charming smile. ‘I know, G …’

Rebecka struggles to suppress a grimace. ‘G’ is a nickname Ida came up with. No one else uses it.

‘… but seriously,’ she continues, ‘nobody was forcing Elias to dress like that and wear makeup to school.’ Julia and Felicia nod as Ida continues, encouraged by their support. ‘I mean, he could have made more of an effort to fit in and act more normally. I’m not saying it was his fault he was bullied, but he didn’t do much to stop it either.’

Rebecka stares at Ida, whose expression seems full of anticipation as she looks at Gustaf.

‘Jesus Christ, Ida,’ he says. ‘Don’t you ever get tired of being a bitch all the time? Take a day off once in a while.’

Ida flutters her eyelashes. Then she lets out a forced laugh. ‘God, you’re so funny, G.’ She says and turns to Julia and Felicia, who look at each other uncertainly. ‘Men have such a raw sense of humour.’

Rebecka grabs Gustaf’s hand. She’s proud of him, but it’s gnawing at her that she didn’t say anything.



Minoo and Linnéa are sitting in the principal’s office on the threadbare dark-green sofa. The principal is in the next room, where the assistant principal usually sits, and is speaking to a uniformed police officer.

Linnéa flips her phone in her hand as if she’s waiting for a call. Minoo tries not to stare at her. Linnéa’s body language is screaming that she doesn’t want to be bothered.

The room is surprisingly small. A shelf is packed with different-coloured binders. A few tired-looking potted plants stand in the window. The white and green checked curtains are stained and the windows need washing. Papers are stacked in neat piles on the desk next to an ageing computer. The chair is ugly but, no doubt, ergonomic. The only thing that stands out is a lamp with a dragonfly-patterned glass mosaic shade.

It’s the first time Minoo has ever been to the principal’s office. You’re only ever called there if you’re in trouble or if something terrible has happened.

When Minoo was at primary school, she used to day-dream about something dramatic happening – that the school would catch fire, or that everyone would be taken hostage by a bank robber on the run. The older she got, the more she saw how childish that was. But it is only now that she knows how far from reality her fantasies were.

The things that are awful in reality are nothing like the things that are awful in movies. It’s not exciting. It’s just scary, horrible and dirty. Above all, you can’t turn it off. Minoo already knows that the image of Elias will haunt her for the rest of her life.

If only I’d shut my eyes, she thinks.

‘I’ve seen a dead person before,’ Linnéa says suddenly. Her eyes are fixed on her phone, which she’s still flipping between her ink-smudged fingers. Each nail is neatly painted neon pink.

‘Who?’ Minoo asks.

‘I don’t know what her name was. It was an old lady. A drunk. She had a heart attack and died. Just like that. I was, like, five.’

Minoo doesn’t know what to say. It’s so far removed from her own life.

‘You never forget something like that,’ Linnéa mumbles.

Her eye makeup is a mess. It strikes Minoo that she herself hasn’t cried. Linnéa must think she’s the most insensitive person in the world. But Linnéa just looks at her. ‘We were in the same class in year seven, weren’t we?’

Minoo nods.

‘What’s your name again? Minna?’

‘Minoo.’

Linnéa doesn’t say her name. Either she can’t be bothered or she takes it for granted that Minoo knows it. And why wouldn’t she? Everyone was always talking about Linnéa Wallin.

‘Girls,’ they hear the principal say, and Minoo looks up. Adriana Lopez’s clean features show no sign of emotion. ‘The police want to speak to you,’ she continues.

Minoo glances up and is shocked when she sees the hatred with which Linnéa looks at Miss Lopez.

The principal seems to have noticed it, too, because she stops short. ‘You were Elias’s friend, weren’t you?’ she asks.

Linnéa stares at her in silence until the principal turns away and mutters something to the police officer now entering the room.

‘You can stay,’ he answers, and they sit down.

The police officer, whom Minoo recognises as Vanessa Dahl’s stepfather, struggles to find a comfortable position on the folding plastic chair. Eventually, he swings one leg on to the other with his foot perched on his knee. It doesn’t look especially dignified.

‘I’m Niklas Karlsson. I’ll start by taking your names.’

He pulls out a little notepad and pencil – Minoo notices that the end is chewed. A police officer who chews pencils. A rodent in uniform.

‘Minoo Falk Karimi.’

‘I see. You, of course, I recognise,’ he says to Linnéa.

It may have been meant in a friendly way, but it didn’t sound like it. Minoo’s whole body tenses when she sees Linnéa squeeze her phone until the plastic cracks.

Don’t say anything, she thinks. Please, Linnéa, don’t do anything stupid. You’ll only make things worse for yourself.

‘I realise this must be terrible for you,’ Niklas says, and goes back to playing the sympathetic police officer, ‘and crisis counselling is available.’

‘We’re bringing in a team of psychologists,’ the principal says. ‘You can see one straight away.’

‘I’m already seeing a psychologist,’ Linnéa says.

‘I see. Well, that’s good,’ the officer says. ‘Did you know Elias?’

‘No,’ Minoo mumbles.

Niklas looks at Linnéa. It’s obvious he’s trying to hide his contempt for the black-haired girl with streaked eye-liner. ‘But you two were friends?’ he says to her.

‘Yes,’ Linnéa answers, and lowers her gaze.

‘Elias had problems, I understand.’

A nod is her only answer.

‘And he’d tried to commit suicide before.’

‘Once,’ Linnéa says, her voice little more than a whisper.

‘I see,’ the officer says. ‘Then perhaps there’s nothing more to say about it. Naturally the pathologist will examine him. But the situation does seem fairly straightforward.’

There is something so condescending about his voice that Minoo wants to scream. If Elias had been murdered, and the murderer had made it look like suicide, the police would miss it. Because that’s how things are in this stupid town. You’re only what everyone thinks you are.

‘I see,’ the policeman says again, and stands up. ‘Can you get yourselves home?’

Minoo hasn’t thought that far ahead. ‘I’ll ring my mum,’ she says.

‘How about you?’ the principal asks Linnéa.

‘I’ll manage.’

But the principal hasn’t finished. Minoo can see that she’s groping for words. Even before she starts talking, Minoo knows she’ll say something about Elias, and that it will be so terribly wrong.

‘Linnéa,’ she begins. ‘I’m so very sorry about Elias. He seemed to be a very special person.’

Linnéa’s voice is hoarse and tense when she answers. ‘Then why didn’t you tell him that?’

The principal is rooted to the spot. Her mouth is half open, but nothing comes out.

‘Now, let’s keep calm, all right?’ the police officer says, glancing at the principal protectively.

Linnéa gets up and leaves the room without a word.

Minoo looks at the principal uncertainly.

‘You can go now,’ Miss Lopez says.



Minoo walks back to her classroom to collect her bag. The chairs have been put on top of the desks. Specks of dust swirl in the light falling through the window. She walks up to her desk, but her bag isn’t there.

‘Minoo?’

She turns.

Max is standing in the doorway with it. ‘I held on to this for you.’

‘Thanks.’

When he hands her the bag, their hands brush against each other, and Minoo nearly drops it. Her arms have gone limp again.

How can I feel like this when I’ve just had such a horrific experience? she wonders.

‘How are you doing?’ Max asks softly.

‘I don’t know,’ Minoo says, surprised by the effortless honesty of her answer.

He nods understandingly. ‘When I was your age, someone close to me committed suicide.’

His voice is calm, but he clenches his fist. A certain kind of pain never goes away.

‘I didn’t know Elias,’ Minoo says, ‘but Linnéa did.’

Suddenly she feels Max’s hand on her shoulder. The heat burns right through the fabric of her shirt. ‘If you ever want to talk,’ he says, ‘you know where to find me.’

‘Okay.’ She doesn’t dare say any more. She isn’t sure that her voice will hold up.

‘I’m really sorry. No one should ever have to see what you saw. Look after yourself now,’ he says, and gives her a little squeeze before he lets go.

Suddenly Minoo notices that she’s shaking. Panic takes hold of her, digging its sharp claws into her chest, making it hard to breathe. ‘I have to go,’ she says. ‘Thanks.’

She rushes out of the classroom and down the stairs. The sunlight blinds her when she throws open the doors and runs out into the playground. Linnéa is sitting cross-legged, smoking, by the front entrance.

Minoo’s heart is pounding and she’s so short of breath she has trouble speaking. She looks towards the street and sees her mother’s red car. She can make out her familiar profile through the windscreen.

‘Do you want a lift?’ she finally manages to say.

‘No.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Why were you running?’

‘I – I don’t know. I just felt I had to get out of there.’

Linnéa flicks her cigarette away. ‘He didn’t kill himself,’ Linnéa says.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I spoke to him just before it happened. He was going to come over to my house later that night. He wanted to talk—’ She stops herself. ‘We’d had an argument. But we weren’t … There was something he wanted to tell me … He wouldn’t have just …’ Linnéa doesn’t finish her sentence.

She can’t admit to herself, Minoo thinks, that her best friend abandoned her. ‘Why didn’t you say anything to the police?’ she asks instead.

‘The police.’ Linnéa snorts. Suddenly her gaze is hard and unforgiving.

‘Well, shouldn’t you tell them?’ Minoo says.

‘What the hell would you know about anything? You’ve always lived in your cosy house with your cosy family.’

Minoo meets her gaze. She’s ashamed because she knows it’s true. At the same time, she thinks that perhaps Linnéa’s truth isn’t the only truth. If Minoo has mainly experienced the lighter side of life, Linnéa has mainly experienced the darker side. Is the one truer than the other?

Linnéa smiles scornfully. ‘Aren’t you going to run to Mummy now?’

Minoo feels a sudden flash of anger. ‘I feel sorry for you,’ she says, and walks towards the car.

‘Well, f*cking don’t!’ Linnéa shouts after her.