The Storyteller

ANNA CLENCHED HER FISTS SO SHE WOULDN’T JUMP up from her chair. Never had she been so happy to see someone. She lowered her eyes, trying to hide her smile behind her hair. She heard the history teacher say something to Abel, tell him to take the last free desk at the far end of the room, and when she looked up again, Abel was walking back there, passing her desk. For a moment she looked into his eyes. And she got a fright.

The ice in his eyes had changed; it seemed to have become darker, like the dark, clear ice on a frozen lake whose depth suddenly becomes visible when the wind brushes the snow from the surface. It was an endless depth, bottomless, and almost totally black. She didn’t know which thoughts and creatures were swimming down there. They scared her. It was as if she were watching Abel drown in the waters of himself. She shook her head, trying to rid it of these thoughts. What had happened? Where had he been?

She turned to Gitta and Gitta shrugged. Their history teacher was distributing the tests now, densely printed with threatening instructions and questions. Concentrate, A

And she did function. The facts were stored inside her head, reliable and secure—despite everything, she was still A

Abel wasn’t writing. He was holding a pen; he had been writing, but now he looked at her and she read his eyes. This time they were easy to read. The message in them was not about the dark depth beneath the ice or about whatever had happened. It was about the history test. HELP ME, A

A few minutes later, she was sitting on the lid of a white toilet, writing. The paper in her pocket had turned out to be a ten-euro note. Whatever. She was writing. She was writing tiny letters; she covered the bill with them, her fingers flying. She wrote down the answers for the first section in short keywords, noting dates and giving brief historical background. The thinking, the “Interpret this text in a historical context. Discuss the questions” part he had to do himself. She had already read the second set of questions on the test; she made notes for this part, too, giving more dates, jotting down half-finished sentences, which hopefully would help him to remember. At some point, he surely must have learned all this, too … She wasn’t writing fast enough. She didn’t have enough space on the bill. She thought about using toilet paper. She looked at her watch. She had to go back.

She folded the bill and fastened it under the lid of the toilet paper holder. Then she tore off a piece of toilet paper and stuck it into the door of the stall in which she’d been sitting. It was visible from outside if you were searching for it—a tiny white flag, a white flag made of snow …

She had to force herself not to run back to the gym; she tried hard to look as if she was sick and that was why she had spent so much time in the bathroom. She was feeling sick. She didn’t know what would happen if someone figured out she’d cheated. She’d fail the test—she was sure of that—but what else would happen?

When she returned to the gym, thirteen minutes had passed. Thirteen minutes on the toilet. Of course, they would realize something was wrong … of course, of course, damn, Knaake was sitting at the desk now. She didn’t see the history teacher anywhere.

“Mrs. Meyer’s gone for a cup of coffee,” Knaake said in a very low voice, looking up at her. Then he looked at his watch and noted the time on a sheet. “I just hope this watch is correct,” he mumbled. “Gotta reset it one of these days …”

She wanted to hug him. She just nodded. According to what he’d jotted down, she’d been gone for only five minutes.

She threw Abel a short glance before she sat down again. Seven minutes later, he got up. Possibly it was more than seven minutes later—at least by Knaake’s watch. She tried to concentrate on the second set of questions and to remember the answers she’d already written down in keywords on a ten-euro note. Abel had to find the right toilet now. He had to memorize the dates and facts, or to remember them if he’d already learned them once. He couldn’t take that bill with him; he’d have to destroy it. What would he do with it? Tear it up and flush it down the toilet? She’d never thought this could work … Abel returned a few minutes after the history teacher, who came back with a cup of coffee. Knaake noted the time before handing the sheet back to his colleague. Abel sat down without looking at A

After the test, A

“So how was it?” he asked.

A

“It was all right,” she replied. “But I’m not feeling so well … I got sick in the middle of it …”

“Poor lamb,” Gitta said. “That’s why you were gone for so long. You’re pale, too.”

A

“It’s okay,” she said. “Probably it was just nervousness.”

“Sometimes it helps to get fresh air,” Bertil went on. “To clear your head, I mean. The sea has frozen totally now. I was thinking about going out to Eldena later … we could go together. If you want to.”

“The sea’s frozen?” Frauke asked. “Do you think it’s possible to walk to the other side of the bay, to Ludwigsburg?”

Bertil nodded. “Sure. I was at the beach yesterday, took our dog. He likes ru

“I thought your dog died,” Frauke said, giving a little shudder. “I thought your father shot him.”

“That was a long time ago,” Bertil replied, looking into the distance. “We have a new dog. Things are replaceable: dogs, friends, people … what do you think, A