Her gaze was sincere, as though she expected him to know what she was referringto.
“For what?”
“Well, maybe it’s no big deal, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I mean, last summer. When we…” She giggled nervously. “I mean, I was so fucking drunk.”
“Oh, right.” Red spots bloomed on Sander’s cheeks, and he began to dig through his locker in the hopes that Felicia wouldn’t notice. “It’s totally fine. I wasn’t exactly sober myself.”
He tried to laugh, too, but it sounded fake even to his ears.
“I’m heading out now,” Sander said. “Want to come?”
She looked out the window again. Filip was gone, as though the snow had devoured him.
“I think I’ll wait a bit and see if it stops snowing.”
“Do you like the movies?”
Felicia looked nonplussed. “The movies?”
“Like, going to the movie theater. To watch a movie.”
“I know what movies are.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sure, I guess so.”
“Maybe you’d like to go. Sometime. With me, I mean.”
“I guess you should ask me.”
“Maybe I will, then.”
She went back to watching the snow fall. Felicia was like money: only too much of her was good enough. Sander slowly locked his locker. He felt confused and his temples were throbbing, but somehow he felt oddly hopeful.
27
What the hell had Filip even been doing at school the Monday after his brother was murdered? Acting as if nothing had happened, or like he didn’t even care? Maybe, someone said, Filip had only gone to school to get away from home, which seemed to be explanation enough. And who can say how any of the rest of them would have reacted?
Whatever his motivation, he’d left something behind at the end of the day. That evening, Killian called Sander to say that Filip’s teacher had come down the hallway holding Filip’s backpack.
“Filip just forgot it, apparently, guess he had other things on his mind. Gunilla asked if I could bring it to him.”
“And you said yes?” Sander asked.
“What the hell else could I say? He’s got homework for over vacation and shit in there.”
“As if he’s going to do any of that now,” Sander muttered.
“Can you come with me? I’m not about to visit that fucking house by myself.”
Given how things had gone in the chapel on Sunday, it probably was a good idea for Sander to go with him.
They met up in the dark and reluctantly headed for the Söderströms’ place, Killian with Filip’s backpack slung over his shoulder, and Sander with a strange, tense feeling in his body.
“I asked Felicia if she wanted to go to the movies with me,” he said after a long silence.
Killian turned his head. “What did she say?”
“It sounded like she wanted to.”
“What, did she say so?”
