The Circle (Hammer) - By Elfgren, Sara B.,Strandberg, Mats Page 0,23
against her, not even the teachers. Once a lesson was over, Rebecka sometimes saw holes in Minoo’s reasoning. But when Minoo had presented her arguments they’d sounded so feasible that you just had to accept them.
It must be nice to be like that, Rebecka thinks. To never doubt yourself.
‘The whole school’s here,’ Gustaf says, in a low voice.
‘It’s so awful,’ Rebecka whispers. ‘Everyone cares all of a sudden.’
‘I guess they all want to show they weren’t one of the people who were bullying him,’ Gustaf says.
Rebecka looks at his serious expression, his straight profile and ruffled blond hair. A lot of people see Gustaf just as a good-looking football hunk. But they don’t know anything about him. He’s clever – cleverer than almost anyone else Rebecka knows. And by that she doesn’t mean academic: he knows about life. She takes his warm, dry hand and squeezes it tightly.
The chatter in the hall dies down as the principal walks up to the lectern. ‘Tragedy has struck our school,’ she begins.
The first sniffles start in the front rows, but Rebecka can’t see who’s crying.
‘Yesterday Elias Malmgren was found dead here. We cannot begin to understand what his family and friends are going through, but it affects us all when a young person chooses to take his own life.’
More sniffling. Suddenly Rebecka feels dizzy. The air is heavy and it’s difficult to breathe.
‘Rebecka?’ Gustaf whispers.
The principal’s voice sounds increasingly distant, as if she were speaking under water.
‘I have to …’ Rebecka murmurs.
Gustaf understands. As always. He helps her up and leads her discreetly towards the door. She notices heads turning in their direction, but she doesn’t care. She needs air.
As soon as they emerge from the auditorium the dizziness subsides. She takes a deep breath.
‘Do you want to go outside?’ Gustaf asks. ‘Shall I get you a glass of water?’
‘Thanks,’ she says, and gives him a hug, pressing her nose against his neck and taking in his smell. ‘It’s better now. I just felt a bit light-headed.’
‘Have you had anything to eat today?’
‘Yes,’ she answers. ‘Why do you ask?’
They’ve never talked about her problem, but Rebecka is sure that Gustaf senses something. It comes across in glances and pauses, as if he’s building himself up to ask but doesn’t know how to.
‘I just thought … You said you were feeling light-headed.’
She shouldn’t be annoyed. He’s just showing he cares.
But can’t you ask me straight out? she thinks. Can’t you just ask what you’ve been wondering for months? Is it true what they say about Rebecka? That she throws up after lunch? That she passed out during PE at the beginning of last year because she hadn’t eaten?
And why can’t you tell him about it? a little voice asks. He’s your boyfriend. You love each other.
Rebecka already knows the answer.
She’s afraid he’ll disappear. How could he stand to be with someone who’s such a pain? Who’s so disturbed she won’t eat, then eats too much, throws it all up and goes back to not eating. Someone who lives in constant fear of falling apart. Boys don’t want girls with hang-ups. They want girls who are relaxed, cheerful and laugh a lot. It’s not hard to be like that with Gustaf because he makes her happy. She’s been able to conceal the other side so far.
Why wouldn’t he be able to love that side, too? the voice asks. Let him in and you’ll see. Tell him what you’ve never told anyone else.
Rebecka savours those words and the relief she knows she would feel. Then she remembers the anxiety that would return as soon as she’d told him. To confide is to make oneself vulnerable. She remembers how in the past secrets were used as weapons in the endless personal wars that broke out. How even the most innocent things could be turned into poison in other people’s hands.
But Gustaf wouldn’t do that, would he?
Not knowingly. But all it takes is one careless comment to someone during football practice – how he’s worried about her – to get the gossip mill churning.
No, she decides. Better to keep it inside. Only then can she be sure where her secret is.
‘I probably had too little breakfast,’ she says. ‘I was out running this morning so I should have had a bit extra.’ Surely that’s not something you’d say if you really had a problem?
Gustaf looks relieved, if not completely convinced. ‘You have to look after yourself,’ he says. ‘You mean so much to me.’