I was thirteen years old and about to start the seventh
class at Veitvet School. My mother said she would go with
me on the first day – we were new to the area, and anyway
she had no job – but I didn't want her to. It was the 18th
of August, the sky was all grey, and as I opened the school
gate and went into the playground, it started to rain. I
pushed my sunglasses up my nose and walked slowly across
the open expanse. It was deserted. Midway, I stopped and
looked around. To the right there were two red prefabs,
and straight ahead lay the squat, blue main building. And
there was a flagpole with a wet, heavy flag clinging to the
halyard. Through the windows I could see faces, and those
sitting on the inside pressed their noses against the panes
and watched me standing in the rain. It was bucketing
down. It was my first day, and I was late.
By the time I reached the entrance, my hair was streaming
and my shirt was soaking wet. I took it off and wrung it
hard and wiped the sunglasses on my jeans before I put
them back, and I pulled my shirt over my head. Then I
went in.
The first thing I saw was the Norwegian Constitution. It
was on the wall, behind glass, just to the right. The second
thing was the headmaster's office. There was no mistaking
it, because there was a sign on the door. I headed straight
for that sign without slackening my pace in case someone
was watching me, and I would hate to make them think I
didn't know where I was going. I knocked and stared
straight at the door while I was waiting, and when a voice
shouted 'COME IN!', I opened the door and did not look
to either side.
It was a large room with shelving along the walls, a spirit
duplicator in a corner and a desk. Behind the desk sat a
large, rather fat man. He raised his head from a pile of
papers and looked me over. Through the sunglasses it was
hard to see if he was smiling, but I don't believe he was.
'The tops of your boots,' he said. I looked down. Like
everybody else I wore brown rubber boots folded down
over my calves and on the lining I had written beatles in
block capitals. I crouched and turned them up.
'I can't think of anything I dislike more,' he said.
I shrugged and waited. He sat eyeing me and there was
a long silence before he said:
'Now take off your sunglasses. I like to know who I'm
talking to.'
I shook my head.
'You won't?'
I shook my head again.
'May I ask why?' His face was a balloon, a moon with
dark patches.
'I have scars.'
'Scars?'
'Terrible scars round my eyes.'
'Is that so?' He slowly nodded with that round head of
his and stroked his chin. 'May I have a look?'
'No.'
'No?' He was lost for words. He drummed a pencil. 'Well,
what's your name then?'
'Audun Sletten. I'm supposed to begin the seventh class
here.'
'I see, so you're Audun Sletten, are you? I've been waiting
half an hour for you.'
'I got lost.'
'You got lost?'
'Yes.'
'Is that possible? There's only one way down here, isn't
there?'
I shrugged. He felt unsure now. I knew he could not see
my eyes. I was the Phantom. He sighed and stood up.
'You'll be starting in the B class. It's mixed. We have a
girls' class, a boys' class and a mixed class in the seventh
year. Follow me.'
He walked towards the door with small, quick steps, even
though he was a big man, and heavy, like John Wayne,
slightly knock-kneed, and I jumped to the side so he could
pass, and then we were in the corridor. I trudged after him.
Compared with the school I used to go to, this one seemed
never-ending. Halfway down the corridor he stopped and
turned.
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