The Storyteller

“Whatever …” Gitta snorted as she put out a forbidden cigarette on a saucer. “Exactly. What’s that gotta do with Ta

“Nothing.” A

“In one of those concrete tower blocks between here and the city. The Seaside District. I’ve always thought it was such an ironic name … I see him riding there every day.” She leaned forward and peered at A

“Just … so.” A

“Oh, just so. I see,” Gitta said. “I’ll tell you something, little lamb. You’re in love. No need to turn red like that; it happens to everyone. But you’ve chosen the wrong guy. Don’t make yourself crazy. With someone like Ta

“Shut up!” A

“The next time?” Gitta asked, gri

“You’re impossible,” A

“A

“I am not in love,” A

“Listen, little lamb,” Gitta said as she lit a fresh cigarette. Did her life consist of cigarettes? She made A

“You’re saying he’s using this doll …”

Gitta shrugged. “I’m not saying anything. I’m just thinking aloud. I mean, we’re all glad he’s there, our Polish peddler. He still has the best products … don’t look at me like that. I’m no junkie. Not everybody who likes beer is an alcoholic, is she? I just wouldn’t believe everything our dry-goods merchant tells you. He’s just looking out for himself. But aren’t we all?”

“What do you mean?”

Gitta laughed. “I’m not sure. It sounded good though, didn’t it? Kind of like philosophy. Anyway, that story about the doll and the little sister is really touching. And the white noise … maybe he’s a little weird, our Polish friend. But maybe he just invented all that stuff to get your attention. You’re good at school. And he definitely needs help if he’s going to pass exams. So maybe he invented something to get you interested.”

“Right,” A

“But … it does make sense!” Gitta lit up the umpteenth cigarette and gestured with it. “He plays hard to get, lets you suffer for a while, and then …”

“Stop waving that cigarette around,” A

“I’d love to,” Gitta replied. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t burn very well.”

• • •

She had to try. She would try. If Abel talked only to the people he sold stuff to, she’d buy something. The thought was daring and new, and she needed another day to pluck up the courage.

A day of watching Abel, first in lit class, in which he never said a word. He was also in her biology class and math. Silent. He fell asleep during the lectures. She wondered what he did at night. She wondered if she really wanted to know.

It was Friday when she finally decided to take the next step. Ta

The schoolyard was nearly empty. On Fridays most people hurried home. Two guys from eleventh grade came over and spoke to Ta

The boys left, Ta

“Abel,” she said.

He started and then looked at her, surprise in his eyes. It was clear no one called him by his first name. The surprise retreated behind the blueness of his gaze, a blue that narrowed as it waited, as if asking: what do you want? He was a lot taller than she was, and his broad, hunched shoulders made her think of the dogs that people kept in the Seaside District. Some of them had old German runes burned into the leather of their collars … suddenly, she was afraid of Ta

“A

“Yes,” she said. “I … I wanted … I wanted to ask you … ask …” Now she had to go through with it. Damn. All the words in her head had been obliterated—by a broad-shouldered, threatening figure. She took a deep breath. “There’s go

“When?” he asked. “When do you need something?”

It didn’t work like this. Stupid child, she thought, of course he wasn’t carrying around kilos of the stuff; it would have to be delivered later. He was reading her thoughts. “Actually …,” he began, “wait. Maybe I’ve got something for you. Now.”