Oskar did not go to school on Tuesday. He lay in his bed and listened to the sounds through the wall, wondered if they would find anything that would lead them to him. In the afternoon it grew quiet and they had still not come by.
At that point he got up, put his clothes on and walked over to Eli’s. The door to the apartment was sealed. No one was allowed in. While he stood there looking a police officer walked by on the stairs. But he was only a curious boy from the neighbourhood.
When the sun went down Oskar carried the boxes down into the basement and put an old rug over them. Would decide later what to do with them. If some thief decided to break into their storage unit he would hit the jackpot.
He sat in the darkness of the basement for a long time, thought about Eli, Tommy, the old guy. Eli had told him everything; that he hadn’t meant for things to turn out the way they did.
But Tommy was alive and would be fine. That’s what his mum had told Oskar’s mum. He was going to be coming home tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow Oskar would go back to school.
To Jonny, Tomas, to…
We’ll have to start training him again.
Jonny’s cold hard fingers across his cheeks. Pressing the soft flesh against his jaws until the corners of his mouth were unwillingly forced up.
Squeal like a pig.
Oskar interlaced his fingers, leaned his face against them, looked at the little hill that the rug over the boxes made. He got up, pulled the rug away and opened the box of money.
One thousand kronor notes, one hundred kronor notes all mixed up, a few bundles of banknotes. He dug around the notes until he found one of the plastic bottles. Then he went up to the apartment and got some matches.
A lone spotlight cast a cold, white glow onto the schoolyard. Outside its circle of light you could see the outlines of playground structures. The pingpong tables that were so cracked you couldn’t play on them with anything other than a tennis ball, were covered in slush.
A few rows of windows of the school were illuminated. Evening classes. For this reason one of the side doors was unlocked.
He made his way through the darkened corridors to his homeroom. Stood for a while looking at the desks. The classroom looked unreal at night like this; as if ghosts silently whispering were using it for their school, whatever that would look like.
He walked over to Jonny’s desk, opened the lid and doused T-red onto it. Tomas’ desk, same thing. He stood without moving for a second in front of Micke’s desk. Decided not to. Then he went and sat at his own desk. Letting it soak in, like you do with charcoal.
I’m a ghost. Booo…booo…
He opened the lid and took out his copy of Firestarter, smiled at the title and slipped it into his bag. The exercise book where he had written a story he liked. His favourite pen. They all went into the bag. Then he stood up, made a final round of the classroom and enjoyed simply being there. In peace.
Jonny’s desk gave off a chemical smell when he raised the lid again, took out the matches.
No, wait…
He went and got two rough-hewn wooden rulers from a shelf at the back of the classroom. Rigged up Jonny’s desk with one so it would stay open, Tomas’ with the other. Otherwise they would stop burning the moment he let the lids drop.
Two hungry prehistoric animals gaping for food. Dragons.
He lit one match, held it in his hand until the flame was large and clear. Then dropped it.
It fell from his hand, a yellow drop, and—
WHOOSH
Damn…
His eyes stung when a purple comet’s tail shot up out of the desk, licked his face. He sprang back; had expected it to burn like… charcoal, but the desk was fully lit, one big bonfire reaching up to the ceiling.
It was burning too much.
The fire danced, flickered across the classroom walls and a garland of large letters made of paper, hanging over Jonny’s desk, broke off and fell to the floor, the P and Q burning. The other half of the garland swung in a large arc and fell onto Tomas’ desk which immediately burst into flames with the same WHOOSH, a searing explosion.
Oskar ran from the classroom with his schoolbag bouncing on his hip.
What if the whole school…
When he reached the end of the corridor the bells started to ring. A metallic clatter that filled the building and it was only when he was well down the stairs that he realised it was the fire alarm.
Out in the schoolyard the large bell rang fiercely to assemble students who were not there, gathered up the school’s ghosts and followed Oskar halfway home.
Only when he reached the old Konsum grocery store and could no longer hear the bell did he relax. He walked calmly the rest of the way.
In the bathroom mirror he saw that the tops of his eyelashes were rolled up, singed. When he touched them with his finger they broke off.