Missing

a couple of times. She put her hand on his arm.
    ‘Hey, stop that. It would be a bore if you went straight through.’
    ‘Oh, come off it.’
    He pulled his arm away but stopped jumping. For a while she looked at him in silence. His turning up here suddenly was a threat, but it was still not clear how serious it was. She must find that out before he left. She picked up a crumpled copy of some pupils’ handout from the floor, just to make her question seem more casual.
    ‘Do you come here a lot?’
    He paused before answering.
    ‘Only sometimes.’
    He was lying, but she couldn’t figure out why.
    ‘Which year are you in?’
    ‘Fifth.’
    ‘What about the rest of the class? When are your mates turning up?’

    He shook his head. It dawned on her that he was alone. He comes here, but no one else.
    ‘It’s you who fixed the screws in the lock, isn’t it?’
    He inhaled at the same time as he spoke.
    ‘Yup.’
    She understood now. This was not one of the sheep, but another goat. Yet one more who had already been excluded from the homogenous mass.
    ‘So what kind of person are you? Do you like school?’
    He stared at her, apparently fearing for her sanity.
    ‘Yeah, of course. Fantastic.’
    No, in other words. Kids did this irony thing a lot nowadays, or at least the few she’d been talking to did. He kicked at a textbook on the floor. It bounced against her mat and stopped. Hello there, Mathematics for the Fourth Form .
    ‘Do they give lots of benefit cash then?’
    She shook her head. Was he already checking out his future rights as a homeless person?
    ‘What do you eat and stuff? Do you root around in rubbish bins?’
    He looked disgusted.
    ‘It has happened.’
    ‘Sick.’
    ‘You’ll have to try it if that’s the future you’re going in for.’

    ‘But you get money hand-outs, don’t you? Like, to buy grub and things.’
    She couldn’t be bothered answering. The obvious point was that if you accepted hand-outs, some people would still be in a position to tell you what you must and mustn’t do. Then the school-bell rang. He seemed not to notice.
    ‘Still, I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll go for a job in TV instead.’
    ‘Shouldn’t you be off now?’
    He shrugged his shudders.
    ‘Suppose so.’
    He sighed, turning to walk away.
    She still wasn’t convinced that he would keep this to himself and the problem was acute. A straightforward question was the simplest solution.
    ‘Are you going to tell?’
    ‘Tell, what?’
    ‘About me being here. Sleeping over for a bit.’
    The thought had obviously never occurred to him.
    ‘Why should I tell?’
    ‘No special reason.’
    ‘What’s your name?’
    He had walked up the few steps to the door, but turned towards her.
    ‘Tab. You?’
    ‘Sylla. Tab’s not your real name, is it? Did you pick it yourself?’

    He shrugged.
    ‘Can’t remember.’
    ‘What’s your real name then?’
    ‘Give over – what’s this? Jeopardy or something?’
    She had no idea what he was talking about and waved a hand vaguely.
    ‘I just wondered.’
    He sighed, letting go of the door handle.
    ‘Patrik. My real name is Patrik.’
    She smiled and after a moment’s hesitation he smiled back. He turned to the door again.
    ‘Cheers.’
    ‘Bye, Patrik. See you some time?’
    Then he was gone.

O f course it didn’t work out. She was picked up and sent home within hours of the vegetable incident.
    It didn’t take long for the hospital to respond. The car crunched along the gravel drive and minutes later someone rang the doorbell.
    When Beatrice Forsenström opened the door, Sibylla was already sitting on the stairs, halfway down, with her suitcase next to her. No one took any notice of her.
    ‘Thank you for coming so soon.’
    Her mother opened the door wider to allow them to step inside. The younger of the two was eyeing the handsome hall, obviously impressed. Maybe he was wondering how anyone could go nuts while living in such a grand house.
    Her mother went straight to the point.
    ‘I cannot deal with her any more. She’s completely impossible.’
    The second man was nodding gravely.
    ‘Do you have any idea if she has actually become psychotic again?’
    ‘I can’t be sure. Of course, she has these outbursts, making accusations against me and although I know she mustn’t upset herself, it’s so difficult …’
    Her mother covered her eyes with her hand. Sibylla heard the door to her father’s study opening and his indoor shoes pad across the tiled