The Circle (Hammer) - By Elfgren, Sara B.,Strandberg, Mats Page 0,24

lips. ‘You mean everything to me,’ she whispers, thinking that that wasn’t quite true because the others mean something, too – her mum and dad, her brothers and sisters – but it feels nice to say it. Somehow it captures the immensity of what she feels for Gustaf, which she finds impossible to put into words.

‘Want to go back inside?’ he asks.

She nods. It would be wrong to run off.

When they step back into the auditorium, the principal is still at the lectern. Now students of all ages are crying, people who didn’t even know Elias existed. No one looks at Rebecka and Gustaf as they take their seats.

‘Now we’re going to listen to a poem, after which we’ll observe a minute’s silence for Elias,’ the principal says softly. ‘Then we’ll go out into the playground and watch as the flag is flown at half-mast.’

The principal makes way for a fair-haired girl, who has mounted the stage.

Rebecka’s mouth is instantly dry. It’s Ida Holmström.

‘I don’t believe this …’ Gustaf mumbles.

But no one else seems to react. And why would they? Most of them probably didn’t know how mean Ida could be.

Nobody was forcing Elias to dress like that and wear makeup to school.

The words echo in Rebecka’s head. Ida leans forward and accidentally breathes too close to the microphone, generating a blast of feedback from the loudspeakers. The snivelling fades out.

‘My name is Ida Holmström and I’ve been in Elias’s class since I was nine. He was really nice and we tried to be there for him when he was down. It feels so empty now he’s gone. I’d like to read this poem on behalf of his friends.’

Rebecka glances at Gustaf, who is clenching his teeth so hard that his jaw muscles tense visibly.

‘When I am dead, my dearest,

Sing no sad songs for me;

Plant thou no roses at my head,

Nor shady cypress tree …’

Ida clears her throat as her voice quivers. Is she moved? Or putting it on? The sniffling has started up again. It’s a beautiful poem, but nothing could be more wrong than Ida Holmström reading it to Elias.

I mean, he could have made more of an effort to fit in and act more normally.

Rebecka turns discreetly and glances at Linnéa, perhaps Elias’s only real friend in this packed auditorium.

Linnéa isn’t trying to hide her hatred. Rebecka has never seen a look like that before, and she knows instantly that something is going to happen.

‘Be the green grass above me,

With showers and dewdrops wet;

And if thou wilt, remember,

And if thou wilt, forget.’

Ida looks at the audience as if she’s expecting applause. Then she adds: ‘Now let us observe a minute’s silence for Elias.’

The hall is silent, but only for a few seconds. Rebecka hears the spring-loaded folding seat snap shut against the backrest when Linnéa stands up. ‘You’re such a fucking hypocrite!’ she says loudly.

There is a rumbling in the auditorium as several hundred students turn around.

‘You stand there pretending you cared about Elias. You’re one of the people who used to bully him, for Christ’s sake!’

Ida stares back from the lectern like a deer caught in headlights.

The principal gets up. ‘Linnéa …’

But Linnéa steps out into the aisle, approaches the stage and raises her voice above the principal’s: ‘In year eight Erik Forslund, Robin Zetterqvist and Kevin Månsson cut Elias’s hair off …’ She continues speaking as she heads resolutely towards the stage, where Ida is standing, gripping the lectern. ‘There were only a few tufts left when they’d finished with him. And his head was bleeding. You gave them the scissors, Ida. It was you! I saw it! And so did the rest of you, you sick fucking hypocrites!’

Shouts of support are heard from the back where a few more outcasts are sitting.

Ida leans towards the microphone. ‘It was really sad that Elias was bullied,’ she says, her voice sounding unusually shrill, ‘but that’s not true.’

The whole thing happens so quickly that no one has a chance to react. Suddenly Linnéa is on the stage bearing down on Ida, who lets go of the lectern and backs away.

‘Linnéa!’ the principal shouts, a note of panic in her voice.

And Rebecka thinks, Something terrible’s going to happen. Someone has to stop this – now!

The next moment there is a creaking sound from the ceiling. The metal beam to which the stage spotlights are attached shudders. Then it collapses on to the lectern with a crash, landing on the floor between Linnéa and Ida. Shards of glass explode