Tore Renberg - See You Tomorrow

It’s dark. She has no idea if he’s talking to her, but it feels as though he’s saying something. She reaches out towards his face, touches his full lips, feels his warm breath against the palm of her hand. The door into the practice room opens and a faint light flows in their direction. Her eyes adjust quickly to the surroundings. She sees quite a large room, threadbare carpets on the floor, egg cartons and posters for gigs on the walls — obscure or forgotten local bands that have played at Grevlingen , at Metropolis, on Music Day or at Folken: The Substitutes, Lillemor , Rag Doll, Arlie Mucks, Røde knær, Luftskipet Noreg, Hekkan, 60-Sone Satan. Guitar amps, a drum kit, bass amps, a microphone stand and mics, a mixing desk, a Wurlitzer, an old analogue Yamaha synthesiser, loudspeakers. Along one wall there’s a sofa covered in a coarse-looking brown-and-green material, a tarnished, scratched teak coffee table littered with ashtrays, cola bottles, chocolate wrappers, guitar strings, plectrums, magazines, FHM, Us Men and comics.

Veronika takes up position in his field of vision. She meets his eyes, holds his gaze and repeats: ‘It wasn’t your fault.’

His chest rises, not sinking again before he plonks down on the end of the sofa. He takes hold of a couple of drumsticks lying on the armrest, twiddles with them before looking at her and saying: ‘What would you know?’

Veronika sits down in a worn-out leather armchair. She takes his hands, stopping the sticks that want to strike at the empty air. His hands are cold from the ride, she rubs them between her own the way her mother has always done with hers. He twists free of her grip, gets to his feet, walks resolutely over to the drum kit and sits on the stool behind it.

Daniel looks at her. ‘So, what are we going to do? Hm? What do you suggest?’

‘Daniel, I—’

He interrupts angrily: ‘You’ve got my head completely fucked up, you know that? Run a girl over — run Sandra fucking over — and just leave her there? How do you think that’s going to sound to her parents? Or the police? What the fuck is with you?’

‘Daniel, listen—’

‘No! No, I’m not going to listen to you any more!’

He gets up, turns to the wall and slams the base of his fists against it.

Veronika, remaining as composed as she can, walks over to him. She puts her arms around him, presses her breasts against him. With all the assertiveness she can muster, she turns him around, forcing him to meet her gaze.

‘What if she dies,’ he says.

‘She won’t.’

‘You can’t know that. They’ll figure it out. People will talk. They’ll find us.’

‘I was there, Daniel,’ she says. ‘I saw the whole thing. She flung herself into the road. I’ll speak up for you.’

Daniel looks at her. His eyes are as shiny as wet glass. His mouth narrows and his top lip begins to quiver. He sucks his cheeks in, his mouth is dry.

‘I like your red hair,’ he says.

Veronika kisses him.

‘I don’t stand a chance,’ Daniel says.

They walk towards the tower blocks. A small guy wearing baggy trousers and his hood up. A girl with a determined gait and a look in her eyes to match, another with a troubled step, looking just as troubled around the eyes. Tiril can feel the strength within, can picture the evening ahead: She’s going to stand there, the song is going to come from her heart, Thea will play and the roof is going to lift free of the beams and be blown sky-high.

‘So, she was just going to stand by the tower blocks, was she?’

‘Yeah,’ Tiril answers, irritated by the tone of scepticism in Malene’s voice. ‘That’s right, she was just going to stand by the tower blocks.’

Shaun jogs along between the girls, small as a pixie, thinks Tiril, daft and from a psycho family but he’s so cool, and he’s mine.

They pass the bus stop on Norvald Frafjords Gate. It’s morning all around, people are off to work, or heading to school and buses and cars move along the road. We’ll just behave normally, Tiril thinks, then nobody will see anything other than three kids on their way to school.

Then they catch sight of her. A girl. She’s huddled by some large rocks not far from the road. She has her head in her hands and her clothes are in disarray.

Malene squints. ‘Is that Sandra?’

Tiril runs, the others close on her heels.

‘Sandra, what is it?’ Tiril halts in front of her. Her cheek and forehead are bruised, her trousers have a large tear and her jacket is ripped.

‘Oh my God,’ Malene brings her hands to her face.

‘Wow,’ says Shaun.

Tiril bends down to Sandra and takes her by the arm, makes to help her to her feet but Sandra cries out in pain.

‘What the fuck happened?’

‘It was Daniel,’ she says chokingly. ‘And Veronika. They ran me over.’

‘They ran you over?!’

Sandra nods and brings her hand across her chest to hold her other arm, which looks completely stiff. ‘I went to the tower blocks, then they came out and I followed them and then … I jumped out on to the road, and they knocked me down.’

‘You jumped out on to the road?’

Sandra nods once more.

‘Have you been run over?’ Shaun raises his eyebrows.

‘Fuckssake, Shaun, didn’t you hear what she said?’

‘Yeah, but Jesus—’

Tiril gathers her thoughts, she needs to react quickly. ‘Can you move?’

‘I don’t know—’

‘Stand up.’

‘I don’t know if I—’

‘Sandra. Get up.’

Sandra raises herself slowly using her hands. She looks in real pain. Tiril brushes grass and earth off her clothes, takes her face in her hands, turning it left then right, examining it. Then she looks at Malene, who’s speechless, and Shaun, who can’t seem to decide where to look.

‘Does this look like she fell off her bike on the way to school?’

‘Wha?’ Malene shakes her head. ‘She just told us, she got run—’

‘I’m asking if it could look like a bicycle accident.’

‘Yeah, but—’

‘Then it is a bicycle accident.’

‘Eh?’ Sandra hobbles a bit and Malene helps to hold her up.

Tiril is aglow. She senses that anything can be what you want it to be if you know how to bring the world to its knees.

‘Tiril,’ says Malene, ‘you need to get a grip. This is insane. Sandra has been run over by Daniel and Veronika, and they just — I don’t know — rode off?’

Sandra nods.

‘They just rode off,’ continues Malene, ‘and you want us to — what? What is it you want? — for us to go to school and make out that she had an accident on her bike? She might have broken something, she may have concussion, we need to call—’

Tiril stares at her sister. Fixes her with her eyes until she stops talking. A girl from 9C, Rebekka, goes by, stopping for a few moments and looking at them strangely. Tiril raises her hand, gives her a friendly smile and the girl continues on her way to school.

‘Shut up,’ she says calmly. ‘Shauny. Have you been sniffing glue?’

‘Weell, y’know, I just…’

‘Have you been sniffing glue?’

‘Yeaah, like, I did…’

‘Shauny.’ Tiril places a hand on each of his shoulders. ‘Have you been sniffing glue?’

‘Eh … no?’

‘No, you have not. Shauny. Did Kenny beat you up?’

‘Yeah, he did…’

‘Shauny. Did Kenny beat the shit out you?’

‘Eh … no?’

‘No.’ Tiril nods. ‘He did not. And you, Sandra. Have you been waiting for your boyfriend outside his block of flats? Have you hurled yourself into the road for him? Have you been knocked down?’