The Storyteller

“‘There will be other summer flowers on the mainland,’ said the sea lion. ‘Flowers more beautiful than the ones on your island. There will be other white mares.’

“‘But none of them will be my white mare,’ the little queen said.

“She wanted to cry, but then she spied another ship just over the horizon. A ship a lot bigger than hers. And suddenly, she shivered, even though her down jacket had dried by now. The big ship was all black, as if it had been cut from construction paper. It had black sails and a black hull, black lines and a black cabin.

“‘Those are the hunters,’ the sea lion said. ‘They hunt by day and by night, in the rain and the wind. Don’t turn to look at them too often, little queen.’

“‘What is it they want?’ the little queen whispered. ‘What are they after?’

“‘They are after you,’ the sea lion replied. ‘There is something you should know. Your heart, little queen … it’s not like other hearts. It’s a diamond. Pure and white and big and valuable like no other diamond in the world. Should someone pluck this diamond from your breast, it would shine as brightly as the sun.’

“‘But it’s not possible to pluck it from my breast, is it?’ the little queen asked.

“‘No,’ the sea lion said. ‘Not as long as you are alive.’”

IT WAS QUIET THEN. OF COURSE, IT WASN’T REALLY quiet. Dozens of people were talking and laughing, and because they were young people, they were talking loudly. Plates clinked against each other; the door of the ladies’ room slammed shut; the pages of books, of notepads, of newspapers were turned. Jackets were put on or off with a rustle; here someone sneezed; there someone blew his nose noisily; two people were kissing; and someone had turned up the volume of his MP3 player too loud.

But still it was quiet. The silence at the table behind A

Then Micha broke the silence. “She won’t die, will she?” she asked. “She will reach the mainland, right? Do you think she will? Before it’s too late?”

A

Only then did A

“Tell me!” Micha repeated from the other side of the little round table.

“I admit, I was listening,” A

Micha looked from A

Abel didn’t say anything.

And because something had to be said, A

“But what can a sea lion do against a huge black ship full of diamond hunters?” Micha asked, not without logic.

“Well, it’s a fairy tale, isn’t it? Maybe the sea lion can … change.”

“Change? Into what?”

A

She put Faust II back in her bag and stood up. “I don’t think Gitta’s going to make it, and I can’t spend all day waiting for her. I need to get going.”

Abel got up from his chair as well. “We’re also leaving. Micha? Take the empty cup back.”

“But not the straws,” Micha said and held them up, five brightly colored straws, bent in the heat, twisted into knots, into … something.

“I made a sea lion,” she said.

A

They left the cafeteria together, then passed through the revolving door and out into the cold. And A

Outside, Abel stood at the top of the steps in front of the dining hall while Micha ran sliding over the frozen puddles—back and forth, back and forth …

A

“You don’t smoke, do you?” Abel asked. She shook her head and he lit up.

Micha kept sliding.

“Abel,” A

“Yeah, it was a bit too much like Saint-Ex,” Abel said, as if he knew Saint-Exupéry personally.

A

“The rose in Saint-Exupéry. Of course. I couldn’t predict that you’d be listening.”

“I didn’t come to listen,” A

“From reality,” Abel said. “That’s all we got.”

She realized he wasn’t wearing the black hat. The sunlight caught his thick blond hair. He stood straighter than he did in the schoolyard. And suddenly he was near, not physically but mentally. “Literature,” A

“It is important,” he said. “That is why I am in literature class. That is what I want to do. Tell stories. Not only to Micha. Later—I want to …” He stopped. “That … about Micha … it’s no one’s business. And the stories aren’t either.”

“Yes,” she said. “No. What about Micha?”

Abel contemplated the glowing tip of his cigarette. “That isn’t your business either.”

“Okay,” she said. But she didn’t leave.

Abel tossed the half-smoked cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. “What if I tell you that I’m not her brother but her father?” He laughed suddenly. “You can stop calculating … Not in the biological sense. I’m taking care of her. There are too many bad things out there. Somebody has to take care of her. You know I miss a lot of classes. Now you know why.”

“But … your real father …?” A

He shook his head. “Haven’t seen mine for fifteen years. Micha’s got a different father. I don’t know where that guy is, but it’s possible he’ll turn up sooner or later, when he learns that Michelle has disappeared. Our mother. He’ll come looking for Micha then. And I know two people who won’t be at home.”

A

“You don’t know me,” A

“You have no clue,” she repeated. “I don’t hang out with those people much. They’re not my friends. And … Abel? Put the hat back on. You look much more frightening when you’re wearing your black hat.”