Dandelion Girl

by Isa Hansen

  Celia followed Astrid’s gaze to the cold night sky where faint stars glinted between dusky clouds. “You recognized one or several of the children?” she urged. “How did that change what you reported to the police?”

  “This won’t be easy for you to hear, in the event that you are related,” Astrid said.

  “I need to know,” Celia said, adding, “Please.”

  “Very well. I believe one of the educators at the school was a predator.” Astrid once again fixed her stare out the window into the black of the night. Celia and Ebba exchanged glances.

  “I believe he was a horrible man,” Astrid said and raised her chin, her nostrils flaring. “The problem was that there was no evidence of what he’d done, but the students came to me. They liked me, you see, the children of the school. But the topic was so sensitive that the information I collected from the children was all based on me connecting dots and responding to hunches.”

  “No one came out and told you exactly what was happening?”

  “That’s right. But some of the children had unexplained behaviors that I found alarming. Headaches, anxiety, and several of them skipped gym class.” Astrid paused there, appearing to be deep in thought. “I talked to the principal and the school board about it, but they maintained as long as there was no official statement and no proof, the school was not going to look into it. He, the teacher that is, made numerous inappropriate comments to the children, but back in the day educators got away with much more than they do now, so that left me with nothing. There was no proof, but I knew.”

  “So,” Celia said, working toward full circle, “you’re saying that one of the children on the roof came to you earlier. This was one of the children with headaches, anxiety and so on?”

  “Precisely so,” Astrid said.

  Ebba who’d been sitting quiet asked: “Who was this teacher?”

  Astrid answered with a hardened expression, “His name was Günther Weber. He was the gym teacher. I believe Günther may have been offensive, sexually, toward several children during his time at the school. I don’t know how far he went with the children, but far enough that it gravely affected some of them.”

  Günther Weber. The name rang familiar to Celia. A shiver ran through her when she realized why. “The child…” she said with renewed vigor. “Who was it?”

  Astrid shook her head. “I shouldn’t be telling you this. I’ve said too much already.” She promptly changed the subject. “You two girls will stay for dinner, won’t you?”

  Celia looked over at Ebba who simultaneously shrugged and gave a lopsided nod.

  “I think we can,” Celia said.

  “Very good, then you can help me peel potatoes.” Astrid rose, using shaky arms against the table to lift herself up. She wobbled away to the kitchen pantry and slowly bent down for a bag of potatoes. Celia slid off her chair to help carry it, and Ebba located a basin to wash the potatoes in.

  Astrid handed them a peeler each and they started washing and peeling, staying quiet until Astrid temporarily disappeared into another room. Then Celia leaned in toward Ebba.

  “Günther!” Celia whispered. “He was the person whose death certificate was in Liv’s medical folder.”

  “I know,” Ebba whispered back.

  They had stopped peeling, staring at each other, trying to make sense of that.

  Astrid came back into the kitchen. She beheld them with a pleased expression: “So nice of you girls to stay. What do you say about smoked salmon with root vegetables for dinner?”

  CHAPTER 34

  In school a few days later Celia bumped into Hans in the hall. It was like déja vu. Except this time her things didn’t go flying, and he wasn’t the bumbling teacher trying to help gather her things.

  Instead they stood facing each other in standoff mode. He stood tall and didn’t move out of the way. She didn’t budge either.

  She had so many questions she wanted to ask him, but there was no way she could. Last time she mentioned Vi fem by name, pit bull Petter was sent after her. She didn’t need to get herself deeper in with them than she already was.

  She thought he was about to step out of the way, but instead he reached over to her. “You have something—” He stepped close to her, put his hand up to her cheek and stroked the skin underneath her ear. His hand was cold and soft against her skin. It made her shiver: gave the same effect as a fork being drawn slowly across a plate.

  Celia held her breath and didn’t blink.

  Hans tilted his head, fastening his eyes on her. For a moment she dreaded he would try to kiss her. But then he removed his hand.

  “Just a speck,” he said gently. “I got it.”

  He slowly stepped back and turned

  Celia let out her breath and stared at the back of his head moving away. Holy Hell.

  She’d already discounted Hans as Nattvakten.

  That would fit the form too perfectly: the overzealous teacher who was also Liv’s ex-boyfriend. It was too obvious and just didn’t sit right with her.

  She narrowed her eyes.

  Not him, although perhaps them.

  They could be Nattvakten.

  The four of them.

  The police report from Liv’s death arrived in the mail yesterday. Ebba had helped Celia get online and order a copy. The report was short and sparse and nothing from it deviated from what she already knew. Although it did offer two small details: Liv’s bag was never recovered, however, her bicycle was found close to the trail by the beach.

  To Celia the detail of the bike being close by confirmed that Liv had gone to the lake on her own accord. Possibly alone but just as likely with someone. Someone she trusted.

  Someone who not only was there when Liv died but who made sure she died.

  If the killer was one of Liv’s friends from Vi fem, there was a good chance they were all in on it together.

  That would be reason enough for those old school friends to band together in attempt to scare Celia off. And why not do it under the guise of a deadly stalker? Was Hans’s little display of affection all part of that act?

  Then a new thought tugged at her.

  The fire. It was started over the gym.

  Celia slipped down against the wall. Seating herself cross-legged on the floor, she opened up her photo app and scrolled through to the snapshots that she and Ebba had taken of Liv’s medical documents. She scrolled to the last image of the set. She’d actually just taken that last one on autopilot. At the time it seemed like nothing more than a misfiled page.

  But now.

  There was a detail in the Günther Weber report that suddenly stood out.

  Scanning the page, her breath stuck in her throat. She remembered it right: Günther Weber died on August 5, 1987.

  The fire at the gym happened exactly three years before that.

  She stared out in the direction where Hans had left, silently asking: What did you and your friends do?

  What actually happened to Weber?

  Liv had already passed by the time Günther died. That detail seemed significant, though Celia wasn’t sure in what way.

  Those last thoughts were playing themselves out in her head when the door to Zari’s classroom opened and the students began to stream out. Celia had forgotten why she was even there in the hall. It was to wait for Zari.

  Celia had been doing a lot of that lately; becoming distracted and getting lost in her own head.

  ***

  Later when she and Zari were standing in a boisterous line of students at the coffee hut—the school lounge sold coffee as well, but once they found The Hut they were forever going there for creamy lattes and cappuccinos—Zari asked, “Are you coming to the 80s party?”

  “Oh, I completely forgot about that.”

  The 80s party was going to be held at an uptown bar. Ebba was excited about it and was working on some top secret costume.

  “I don’t know if I feel like going,” Celia said.

  Zari put her hands on her hip
s. “You know what? We should go,” she said. “We’ve all been going through a lot of stress lately and maybe getting out and loosening up would be good for us. I don’t feel much like it either, but it sounds like it could be fun.”

  Celia nodded absently. Fun, yeah. Her former self would have thought so at least. She loved 80s fashion. It was so out there and wild.

  It was strange to think back to the person she’d once been and all the goofy stuff she used to do.

  Now everything around her had become moody and bleak. She didn’t do anything lighthearted anymore.

  The line moved and it was Celia and Zari’s turn to order. They both ordered cappuccinos and moved to the pick-up window.

  Celia thought maybe it would be good to do a little search to see if that girl who liked to have fun was still around somewhere, anywhere inside of her. “I guess I could go, but I don’t have anything to wear,” she said. “I don’t know what I’d go as.”

  Their drinks were served by a cheerful girl with a long braid pulled over to one side of her head.

  “I don’t know either,” Zari said, taking her first sip. “We’ll find something.”

  ***

  In the days that followed, there was no sign of Celia’s night guard.

  No stalking cars, no messages.

  And at home things were slowly going back to some sort of normal. While Celia’s relationship with Erik still felt like trying to walk in shoes that were the wrong size and on the wrong feet, she didn’t have the emotional energy to worry about him. Whatever secrets he was sitting on, she decided to let it go.

  There was someone else out there who was far more important for her to keep her sights on. Besides, staying out of Erik’s way was easy enough. He continued to work late and away from home more often than not, so that made her home life one notch easier.

  As for Anette, Celia was officially ready for a start over.

  It was clear that Anette was trying hard to compensate for what had transpired by being particularly upbeat. Celia wanted to get over being upset. It made her feel weird and guilty to hold a grudge, in part because Anette hadn’t meant to do anything hurtful. There were a lot of things that Celia questioned these days, but she didn’t question Anette’s intentions. Anette was not evil or vindictive; she acted recklessly but not maliciously. Celia couldn’t go on being upset with her forever, nor did she want to.

  The 80s party, or more specifically, getting help finding 80s clothes, would be a good way to reach out to Anette. She didn’t know how to feel about her uncle or her aunt, but she needed a semblance of stability at home, and she needed for her relationship with Anette to at least be civil and functional. And this was a way to extend an olive branch.

  So on Monday afternoon, the week of the party, Celia took her chance when she heard shuffling sounds from the kitchen. She popped into the kitchen where Anette was rearranging the contents of the already quite well-organized fridge shelves. “Anette?”

  “Hey, how’s it going?” Anette spun around.

  “So, this weekend I’m going to an 80s theme party,” Celia said.

  “Nämen vad kul,” Anette said. How fun. “Do you need help with a costume?”

  “That’s actually what I wanted to ask you about.”

  “Aha,” Anette said blithely. “I still have some old clothes from the late 80s and early 90s.” She assessed Celia’s frame. “I was about your size back then. Perhaps a size or two bigger. I’ll gladly lend anything I can find.” Anette got a dreamy sort of look in her eye.

  “That would be awesome.”

  “I’ll go have a look right now!”

  There was some scrambling and scuffling from the hall closet and then upstairs from Anette and Erik’s bedroom.

  After about fifteen minutes Anette came back, having curated two bags and one large box full of clothes and shoes. “Should I take these to your room?”

  “That’d be great.” Celia followed Anette who set the bags and box down on the floor next to Celia’s bed.

  “Thank you!” she called after Anette.

  Anette turned in the doorway and beamed. “Hope you find something that works.”

  Celia shuffled through the bags. There were off-the-shoulder tops, fun little miniskirts, and colorful pumps galore. Perfect. Celia was sure to find something here. She held an outrageous leopard print top against herself and decided that Anette was right about the size.

  Ebba and Zari came over later in the afternoon and the three of them got busy rifling through the clothes. At first Celia was on edge, like she always was these days, but being silly with her friends did the job of setting her at ease.

  “Ooo la la Anette,” Ebba said and held up a sexy purple miniskirt. “I bet she looked hot in this!”

  They laughed and joked their way through Anette’s decades-old wardrobe.

  “Tell us what you’re going to be!” Zari said to Ebba.

  “You know it’s a surprise,” Ebba replied with a mysterious smile.

  Celia wished Oskar was going to the party.

  He’d been planning on it; he was going as Margaret Thatcher. But then he decided to stay home and rest up for his handball tournament that would take off early the next morning. Celia could respect that. She always used to take it easy the evening before a big game.

  Still, she’d miss having him there. It was kind of stupid how much she liked being around him—how her heart would start thudding harder, just because he was close. How whenever they hugged, she didn’t want to let go.

  Ebba’s cheery voice cut into her thoughts. “Hey, watcha dreamin’ about?”

  “Nothing—” Celia pulled a shirt over her head to conceal her blush.

  The girls spent the rest of the afternoon trying on clothes: prancing around in ridiculous heels and tight skirts. Ebba also tried on some outfits just for the fun of it. Celia was having a great time. All the way up until her phone plinged.

  A cold rush went through her. She knew before she even looked at it.

  She knew the second she dropped her guard to actually have a little fun her joy would be taken from her—snapped from her hands.

  She warily viewed her screen.

  Dear Liv,

  Looking forward to seeing you at the party on Friday.

  It’ll be a blast from the past. Be sure to look for me there.

  xo Nattvakten

  -

  “What happened?” Zari asked. “You just went white.”

  “Another message from our night guard,” Celia said grimly.

  She handed her phone to Zari and marched to her desk drawer where she found her high power flashlight. After slamming batteries into it, she moved to the window, shoved the curtains aside and pushed it open. She leaned out. The outside breeze blew cold against her neck and face. She traced her light across the yard, illuminating bushes and trees, looking for shadows—searching for movement.

  This presumably wasn’t what her dad had in mind when he sent the flashlight with her so she could explore the great Swedish outdoors.

  Nothing stirred out in the yard except the neighbor’s orange tabby that stared at her with indignation from below the fence.

  Ebba and Zari stood behind her at the window.

  “You think he’s watching us?” Ebba asked.

  “Probably,” Celia said.

  She pulled herself back in and closed the window and drew the curtains.

  ***

  A possible explanation to the hostile messages came already the next day and from a very unlikely source at that. Celia was at her locker when Elise approached her.

  Surprised to see Elise purposefully headed in her direction, Celia turned, her satchel balanced on one hip. She didn’t know much about the girl other than that she and Alex were close.

  Had she been American, Elise would probably have been a cheerleader and part of the super popular crowd. That kind of social hierarchy didn’t exist in the same way in Sweden. Although after a school-wide vote, Elise had been crowned this ye
ar’s Lucia, which was the closest thing that Swedes came to having a popularity and beauty contest such as homecoming queen.

  “Celia?” Elise had come up so close that Celia caught her scent—spearmint and a subtle hint of floral perfume.

  Celia couldn’t help but stare. Elise was gorgeous.

  Even though she wasn’t sexually attracted to people, she could still lose herself in a beautiful face, female as much as male. She almost did that now, but then remembered to insert an “Oh, hi?” hopefully soon enough to not seem weird.

  They were alone in the hall except for a throng of students heading away from them, their steps and loud banter fading away.

  “You were mugged a while back.” Elise gazed at Celia with violet eyes that were startlingly serious.

  “Yeah, well, attempted mugging—” Celia stared back at Elise. “How do you know about that?”

  “Because I know who did it.” Elise tugged at the strap of her handbag. “It was Alex. Alex and William.”

  “Wait, what?” Celia had to stop her mouth from dropping open.

  Elise took a quick glance over her shoulder. “I was with William over the weekend. We had too much to drink and it came out. That he followed you. I’m not supposed to know. I swore not to say anything.”

  “But why?” Celia was flabbergasted.

  Why would they do that?

  Alex was crazy rich and as far as she knew, William came from a place of privilege as well. He lived up the hill west of town, where the houses were all large with vast yards and lake views.

  “It was Alex’s idea. William told me he didn’t really want to do it and felt bad about it afterward.”

  Celia was trying to process. Alex seemed off, but this was taking off to a whole new level. She eyed Elise with suspicion: “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I love Alex, I’ve known him forever.” Elise hugged her handbag to herself. “But I don’t think he’s OK.”

  “Not OK? In what way?”

  “I think he needs help that he’s not getting.”