John Lindqvist - Let The Right One In aka Let Me In

He gathered up the thousand kronor notes into a pile and folded them up. Put the hundred kronor notes back, closed the box. Walked up into the apartment, found an envelope that he stuffed the money into. Sat with the envelope in his hand and wondered what he should do. Didn't want to write, someone could recognize his handwriting.

The phone rang.

Stop it. Understand that I don't exist anymore.

Someone wanted to have a long talk with him. Someone wanted to ask him if he realized the gravity of what he had done, which he did. As did Jonny and Tomas probably. Quite well, in fact. Nothing more to talk about.

He walked over to his desk and took out his rubber letters and ink set. In the middle of the envelope he stamped a'T' and an 'O.' The first 'M' went askew, but the second one was straight, like the 'Y.'

When he opened the door to Tommy's building with the envelope in his coat pocket he was more nervous than he had been at his school the night before. His heart thumping, he gingerly eased the envelope through the mail slot in Tommy's door so no one would come to the door or catch sight of him through the window.

But no one came and when Oskar was back in his apartment he felt a little better. For a while. Then it sneaked up on him again.

I won't… be here.

At three o'clock his mom came home, several hours earlier than usual. At that point Oskar was sitting in the living room with the Vikings' album. She walked into the room, lifted the needle, and turned off the record player. By her face he sensed that she knew.

"How are things with you?"

"Not so good."

"No…"

She sighed, sat down on the couch.

"The principal called me. At work. He told me that… there was a fire there last night. At your school."

"Really. Did it burn to the ground?"

"No, but…"

She closed her mouth, her gaze getting stuck in the hooked rug for a few seconds. Then she lifted her eyes and met his.

"Oskar. Was it you?"

He looked straight back at her and said:

"No."

Pause.

"No. It's just that it seems that although much of the classroom was destroyed, that… that Jonny's and Tomas' desks… that it was there it had started."

"Oh."

"And they were apparently quite sure that… that it was you."

"But it wasn't."

His mom sat on the couch, breathing through her nose. They sat a meter apart, an endless distance.

"They want to… talk to you."

"I don't want to talk to them."

It was going to be a long evening. There was nothing good on TV.

That night Oskar couldn't sleep. He got up out of bed, tiptoed to the window. He thought he saw something in the jungle gym down on the playground. But it was just his imagination, of course. Nonetheless he continued to stare at the shadow down there until his eyelids grew heavy. When he got back into bed he still couldn't sleep. He gently tapped on the wall. No answer. Just the dry sound of his own fingertips, knuckles against the concrete, knocking on a door that was closed forever.

12 November

Oskar threw up in the morning and was allowed to stay home another day. Despite the fact that he had only slept a few hours the night before he was unable to rest. There was a gnawing anxiety in his body that forced him around the apartment. He picked things up, looked at them, put them back.

It was as if there was something he had to do. Something absolutely necessary, but he simply couldn't think of what it was.

At the time he had thought he was doing it while he set fire to Jonny's and Tomas' desks. Then he had thought it was giving the money to Tommy. But that wasn't it. It was something else.

A great theater performance that was now over. He paced back and forth on the emptied, darkened stage and swept up that which had been left behind. When it was something else…

But what?

When the mail arrived at eleven there was only a single letter. His heart made a somersault in his chest as he picked it up, turned it over.

It was addressed to his mom. "South Angby School District" was printed in the upper right-hand corner. Without opening it he ripped it into pieces and flushed them down the toilet. Regretted it. Too late. He

didn't care what was written in it, but there would be even more trouble if he started messing around with this, than if he just let it be. But it didn't matter.

He undressed, put on his bathrobe. Stood in front of the mirror in the hall, studied himself. Pretended he was someone else. Leaned over to kiss the glass. At the same time that his lips met the cold surface the phone rang. Without thinking he lifted the receiver. "Hi. It's me." "Oskar?" "Yes."

"Hi. Fernando here." "What?"

"Avila. Mr. Avila." "Oh. Yeah. Hi."

"I just wanted to ask… are you coming to the training tonight?" "I'm… a bit sick."

Silence on the other end. Oskar could hear Mr. Avila's breaths. One. Two. Then "Oskar. If you did. Or did not. I do not care about this. If you want to talk; we talk. If you do not want to talk; we don't. But I want you to come to the training." "Why?"

"Because Oskar, you cannot sit like caracol, how do you say… the snail. In the shell. If you aren't sick, you will get sick. Are you sick?" "… Yes."

"Then you need physical fitness training. You will come tonight." "What about the others?"

"The others? What are the others? If they are stupid I will say boo, they stop. But they are not stupid. This is training." Oskar didn't reply. "OK? You'll come?" "Yes…"

"Good. See you later."

Oskar put the phone down and everything was quiet around him again. He didn't want to go to the workout session. But he wanted to see Mr. Avila. Maybe he could go there a little earlier, see if he was there. Then go home again when the session started. Not that Mr. Avila would accept that, but…

He completed another round of the apartment. Packed his workout things, mainly to have something to do. Lucky he hadn't started the fire in Micke's desk, since Micke would be going to the gym. Although maybe it got destroyed anyway because it was right next to Jonny's. How much had actually been destroyed?

Something to ask…

The phone rang again around three o'clock. Oskar hesitated before picking it up, but after the flicker of hope he had felt after seeing the lone envelope he couldn't resist answering it.

"Hello, this is Oskar."

"Hi. It's Johan."

"Hi."

"What's up?"

"Nothing much."

"Want to do something tonight?"

"When… what?"

"Oh… about seven, or something."

"No, I'm going to… the gym."

"Oh. OK. Too bad. Catch you later."

"Johan?"

"Yeah?"

"I… heard there was a fire. In our classroom. Did… a lot get destroyed?"

"Naw. Just a couple of desks."

"Nothing else?"

"Naw… some… papers and that."

"Oh."

"Your desk is fine."

"Oh. Good."

"OK. Bye."

"Bye."

Oskar hung up with a strange feeling in his stomach. He had thought that everyone knew it was him. But that's not how Johan had sounded. And his mom had said that a lot had been destroyed. But she could have been exaggerating, of course.

Oskar chose to believe Johan. He had seen it, after all.

Oh, for Christ's sake…"

Johan hung up, and looked around, hesitantly. Jimmy shook his head, blew smoke out of Jonny's bedroom window. "That was the worst I've heard." In a meek voice Johan said: "It's not so easy."

Jimmy turned to face Jbnny, who was sitting on the bed rubbing a tassle from the bedspread between his fingers.

"What happened? Half the classroom burned down?" Jonny nodded. "Everyone in the class hates him." "And you…" Jimmy turned toward him again, "you say that… what was it you said? 'Some paper.' Do you think he'll go for that?" Johan lowered his head, embarrassed.