Tore Renberg - See You Tomorrow

‘Big bruv,’ she called him a few weeks back.

Daniel had nodded. He could be her big brother.

‘You know what?’ he said, speaking slowly so she could read his lips.

‘No?’

‘I’m going to buy you a car. And a house. You won’t need to worry about anything. I’m going to be rich, Veronika, I’m going to be filthy fucking rich. Your big bruv will look after you.’

Her whole torso, her tits — which are pretty huge — had wobbled under her sweater, her eyes narrowed to lines and her weird laughter had filled the room.

She’s good-looking, Veronika. Tidy. Big eyes. Awesome body. Long legs. But she’s got something intense about her, as though she were water on the boil.

He puts down the drumsticks, looks over at her.

‘Are you going to go to school?’ he asks slowly. Daniel knows he should really use his hands, use sign language, but he couldn’t be bothered.

‘Are you?’ Veronika smiles. Two small dimples play in her cheeks. She shrugs.

He smiles back. Shrugs.

He likes that about her. Her sense of humour. She’s quick.

‘So, what’s up then?’ Daniel says, and clears his throat. He has to look away. He’s seen her half-naked plenty of times. But right now it feels a little weird. Her just standing there. Like that. Now. In the morning. Water beading on her shoulders. Her breasts look enormous beneath the towel and he’s having trouble averting his eyes.

‘So, what’s up then?’ he hears her say.

Shit.

Now she’s sitting on the floor. In her Buddha position.

Fuck.

He can see everything.

‘No, nothing much,’ he says, attempting to smile.

‘No, nothing.’ She smiles.

Daniel swallows.

He tries to take his eyes away but he can’t manage. They’re drawn towards her sitting there cross-legged, towards the towel pulled tight across her open thighs, towards her crotch. What is she doing? She must know he can see it?

‘Play,’ she says, making the sign for drums.

He shrugs. Is she just going to sit there like that? Is she doing it on purpose?

‘Okay,’ he says, making to begin. ‘Wait, hang on.’ He motions to her. ‘Come here. You try. Come on.’

She laughs. ‘No, no.’

‘Yeah, come on, come on.’

Veronika laughs again. She shows no indication of knowing what he can see. She merely laughs, waves her hand in refusal and again says: ‘No, no.’

He stands up, takes a step to the side and points at the stool. ‘Come on, sit down. I’ll show you.’

She rolls her eyes but gets to her feet and makes her way over to him. She sits down.

He sees the nape of her neck below the coiled towel. The red hairs beneath. Her shoulders. Her skin. Her cleavage. Her hips, her ass, heavy on the stool. Veronika turns her head, reads his lips. Mouthing slightly what he says with her own.

Daniel speaks slowly: ‘Pick up the drumsticks. That’s right. Grip them like this, as though you were holding a fishing rod. That’s right. Good. Okay, I’m going to show you four-four time, straight beat. Completely straight beat.’

‘Bit?’

‘Take your right hand, yeah, like that, bring it over to the left, yeah, there, and now you hit the high-hat four times…’

He stands right against her back. Holds her arms, her hands. Helps her with each beat.

‘Like that, yeah.’

She laughs. Tries to keep on hitting.

Daniel feels his pulse begin to rise.

‘And steady. One two three four, one two three four … then you take your left hand, here I’ll help you, the drumstick in your left hand, and on the third beat you bring it down on the snare, like this…’

He takes her other arm. Stands pressed against her. Holds both her arms, both her hands.

‘Okay, good, like that, nice and steady, one two three four, one two three four…’

Daniel’s breathing is heavy. It’s the caveman panting inside, can’t stop this, it’s the stone man panting within.

Veronika lets go of the sticks. She removes the towel from her head. Her long copper-red hair falls down, looking darker now it’s wet, lying like thick knives down along her back. She turns, her eyes gleaming for a second before she closes them, gets to her feet, stands on her tiptoes and gives him her mouth.

No, he thinks, kissing her. Sandra, he thinks, feeling Veronika’s tongue, fresh and strong. He gives her his tongue, feels the electricity in his mouth. She brings her hands to her chest, fuck, she’s undoing the towel, it falls to the ground, her breasts brush against his sweater. Veronika’s hands go behind his back. She takes hold of his T-shirt, lifts it up and presses her breasts against his skin. Fuck, Sandra, fuck, Veronika — Daniel pushes her away.

He clenches his fists and visualises himself beating her bloody.

Daniel runs into the hall. He grabs his moped helmet, slips hurriedly into his shoes, leaves his bag lying where it is. He snatches his jacket, hears Veronika’s muffled crying behind him, opens the door and leaves.

Quit that snivelling, he thinks as he rushes down the stairs, his footfalls slamming against the walls of the stairwell. Stop that blubbering, stop it, do you want a taste of the bleeding iron, bitch?

The school bell sounds like a fire alarm. The pupils begin making their way inside, while Sandra stands there, her face almost unrecognisable. There’s sweat on her brow, her big frightened eyes stare at Malene, pleading for help, as though she were suddenly her lifeline in a rough sea. Sandra’s hand is trembling, the bell is ringing furiously in their ears, and she won’t let go of her sleeve, but what is Malene going to say?

She can’t bear to lie, she’s unbelievably bad at it, and acting surprised is the hardest thing she knows. Daniel Moi? No way. Have you had sex with him? Wow? In Gosen Woods?

Sandra would see through her right away.

Malene has never slept with anyone. She likes boys, it’s not that, and she’s aware she’s nice-looking, she knows they like her, it’s not that either. She’s just not ready. She hasn’t met the right guy yet. The One. Tiril always says she’s going to screw the first guy that comes along, makes no odds, really. But Malene can’t think that way. She knows people call her names. Ice queen. Gymnastics queen. But she pretends not to hear. She doesn’t take it to heart. At least not much. A little, maybe.

What’s she going to say to Sandra? It’s no surprise, what she’s hearing, Tiril already told her, but all the same it’s bonkers that the biggest swot, the most Christian girl in school, lawyer daughter Sandra Vikadal, is together with Metal Daniel. Moped Daniel. Crazy Daniel. Foster home Daniel. And what’s just as mental is that Sandra is standing in front of her — why her? — telling her that she’s had sex with him.

Outside. In the woods.

That is mental.

Daniel is hot, no question about it, but he’s hot in that dangerous way. All the girls know who he is, those eyes , but would anyone dare to do what Sandra’s done? Go near him? It’s so mad it makes Malene’s heart pound, a heavy hammering inside: I met him again yesterday. I had sex with him. In Gosen Woods. And not only is Sandra saying it, she’s picked Malene to say it to. She’s told her everything — why? They’ve been in the same class for years but they’ve never really spoken. Not before today. It gives Malene a pain in her chest. She’s entwined in Sandra’s world now and she doesn’t want to leave it.

Daniel Moi has done some crazy stuff, they say. Killed someone, they say.

‘Jesus,’ says Malene, thinking she needs to look natural, ‘is it true? With Daniel Moi? Wow!’