Page 38 of The Living and the Dead

“She said I can ask her, and we’ll see.” Now, saying it out loud, he could tell that it didn’t really sound as if Felicia wanted to go to the movies with him. “I mean, that’s not how she said it; or, thatiswhat she said, but it was more likehowshe said it. You know.”

Killian walked on, his gaze on the ground. His shoes left deep tracks in the snow.

“Okay,” he said.

“What?”

“Nothing, I’m happy for you. I just don’t want her to, how do I put it, disappoint you again.”

“I wasn’t disappointed last summer.”

“Right, okay.”

“Iwasn’t.”

“Okay. Great.”

They kept walking. At last, Sander said: “And I’m not going to be disappointed this time either. After all, I’m moving away. And she knows that, too, I told her today.”

There was a flash in Killian’s eyes. “But if she did want to be with you, would you stay?”

“Killian, I don’t know. If anything happens between us, I suppose it’ll just be like a short-term thing.”

Killian seemed to be considering the implications of all this. “Have you told your parents? That you’re moving away?”

“Not yet. But I will.”

“What is it you think you’re going to find in Stockholm?” All of a sudden, Killian sounded exasperated. “What do you think is there that isn’t good enough for you here?”

“I don’t exactly know. I think I can learn something about who I am.”

“What do you mean,who you are? Don’t you know?”

“Sure, but not like that.”

“What? I don’t get it.”

Sander sighed. Killian was so dense sometimes.

No one here gets it,he thought, but he didn’t say it. Instead, as if to change the subject, he stopped mid-step and said: “Did you look inside his backpack?”

“No.”

“We saw him today, at school, me and Felicia. Don’t you want to see what’s in there?”

“But it’s Filip’s.”

Sander opened the zipper while Killian watched. Inside, they found an old cap, some textbooks, some loose-leaf paper, and a notebook. He took out the notebook and handed the backpack to Killian as he began to page throughit.

“What are you doing?”

“Filip was walking along and writing in a notebook.”

He found the right page, and his eyes scanned the text that had been so hastily scribbled down, intense and uneven, scrawling.

A car came down the road, headlights bright white. Sander turned his back to it and ripped out the page.

“What was it? What does it say?”