*

When he’s finished, he leaves them. He doesn’t slam the door, doesn’t stomp down the stairs, doesn’t shout at anyone on the way out. William launches himself at him the moment he reaches the parking lot: “What have you done? What have you done you fucking stupid little bitch? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”

The hands that push between them are half the size of Lyt’s, actually even smaller than Amat’s, but they keep the boys apart as if they possessed infinite strength.

“That’s enough!” Ann-Katrin roars at William.

Bobo is standing a couple of yards away, watching his mother stare down a young man twice her size. He’s never felt more stupid. Never felt prouder.

*

Inside the cafeteria Filip’s mother stands up. Waits until the noise has died down. Claps two damp palms together. Looks at the board and says: “Can anyone demand that we vote anonymously?”

The president nods.

“Secret ballot. Of course. According to the statutes, one person requesting it is enough.”

“Then I request it,” Filip’s mother says, and sits down.

Her best friend is sitting beside her, and tugs at her arm with insulted outrage.

“What are you doing? What are you DOI . . .”

And then Filip’s mother says three little words that all best friends have to say to each other occasionally: “Shut up, Maggan.”

*

Amat backs away without looking at his former teammates, knows what they’re thinking anyway. He puts his headphones in, casts a last glance inside the rink, sees the ice shimmering beneath a single fluorescent light. He knows he’s put himself on the losing side—he’ll never win this. Maybe he’ll never get to play again. If anyone had asked him there and then if it was worth it, he would have whispered: “I don’t know.” Sometimes life doesn’t let you choose your battles. Just the company you keep.

He walks back through the town. There’s snow on the ground, but the air smells of spring. He’s always hated this time of year, because it means that the hockey season is over. He has walked nearly all the way home when he turns into the stairwell next to his, climbs to the third floor, and rings the doorbell.

*

Zacharias is clutching a video-game handset when he opens the door. They look at each other until the snow melts around Amat’s shoes. He’s breathing heavily, can feel his pulse in his ears.

“Happy birthday.”

Zacharias steps back into the hall so he can come in. Amat hangs his jacket on the same hook where he’s hung it every day since he was old enough to reach up there himself. Zacharias is sitting on the bed in his room, playing a video game. Amat sits next to him for half an hour. Then Zacharias gets up, goes over to a shelf, fetches another handset, and puts it in his friend’s lap.

They play without speaking. They’ve never needed words.

*

Meanwhile, at a meeting at a rink, the members of a club vote on the GM’s future. But just as much on their town’s future. Their own. Everyone’s.

*

Ramona is sitting in a corner next to a man in a black jacket. He’s got a tattoo of a bear on his neck, and is twirling his car keys nervously around his fingers. Ramona pats him on the cheek.

“You didn’t have to threaten to shut him up. I could have managed. But thanks.”

The man smiles weakly. His knuckles are covered in scars, one of his arms bears the marks of a stab wound, and she’s never admired or judged him for that. He and the other men in black jackets grew up at the Bearskin. Ramona has stood by them when everyone else kept their distance, she’s defended them even when she hasn’t agreed with them, she’s had their backs even as she’s yelled at them. They love her. But still he says: “I’m not sure I can get the guys to vote the way you want here.”

She nods and scratches his cropped hair.

“I looked Amat in the eye tonight. I trust him. And I’m going to act accordingly. How you choose to act is up to you. It always has been.”

The man nods. The tattoo on his neck moves up and down as he swallows.

“I don’t know if we can get involved in this. The Pack and the team have to come first.”

Ramona gets slowly to her feet, but before she goes to cast her vote she pats him on the knee and asks: “Whose club is it?”

*

The man sits and watches her go. Twirls his car keys around his fingers; the Saab logo on them appears and disappears from his palm. Then his eyes wander across the room to a man sitting on a chair in the very front row. He saw him in the Hollow, together with Amat. Kevin Erdahl’s father. The man in the black jacket puts his hand in his pocket. He still has the five crumpled thousand-kronor notes there, the ones he picked out of the snow.

*

He still hasn’t decided what he’s going to do with them.

44

The love a parent feels for a child is strange. There is a starting point to our love for everyone else, but not this person. This one we have always loved, we loved them before they even existed. No matter how well prepared they are, all moms and dads experience a moment of total shock, when the tidal wave of feelings first washes through them, knocking them off their feet. It’s incomprehensible because there’s nothing to compare it to. It’s like trying to describe sand between your toes or snowflakes on your tongue to someone who’s lived their whole life in a dark room. It sends the soul flying.

*

David rests his hand on his girlfriend’s stomach, aware that his whole life is being taken over by love for someone he’s never met. His mom always said that every child is like a heart transplant. He understands that now.

His girlfriend’s fingers stroke the back of his neck. He’s spent all evening talking on the phone, finding out about the meeting, the decisions. He’s received an offer he’s been dreaming of ever since he started coaching the little league team.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“You have to trust your heart,” his girlfriend says.

“I’m a hockey coach. That’s all I want to be. The rest is politics. It’s got nothing to do with sports.”

His girlfriend kisses his hand.

“So be a hockey coach, then.”

*

Maya rings Ana’s doorbell. She says nothing about Kevin on the jogging track, nothing about anything at all. Not long ago the idea of keeping secrets from Ana was unthinkable, and now it’s perfectly natural. It’s a terrible feeling. They go back to Maya’s house. Peter, Kira, and Leo are sitting in the kitchen. They’re waiting for their phones to ring, for someone to tell them how everything went at the meeting. But so far all is quiet. So they do the only thing they can do. Maya fetches her guitar, Peter gets his drumsticks, Ana asks if she can sing. She’s a terrible singer. She sings so badly that it helps a whole family put up with the wait.