The others didn’t say anything. They just stared. And suddenly, Anna remembered that she was still wearing Abel’s black sweatshirt. So what? She straightened up.

“Is there an extra chair somewhere?” she said. “I think I saw one before. We …”

She didn’t get any further. For just then, Bertil stood up, made his way past Frauke, and came toward her. He was unsteady on his feet.

“So this is how things are,” he said, very loudly, at least for Bertil. “I get it. I understand. I understand everything now. I’m good enough for math. For helping you study. But that’s the only time. I … you … so you, Anna Leemann. I’ve been … I … suspected this all along … I should have known … It was clear … absolutely fucking clear … It …” He held onto Frauke’s chair. His glasses were sliding down his nose again, and then, with a sudden movement, he tore them from his face and threw them on the table.

“Bertil,” Anna said, “you’re drunk!”

“I’m … I’m not,” Bertil said, but his words were heavy and slow. “I’m … I’m abso … absolutely … so … so-sober. F … f-f-for the first time perf … ectly … sober. You … it must be you … who is drunk. Look at your … yourself, how you’re running around, in that disgus … disgusting sweatshirt … you’re joining the club of anti … antisosh … antisocial elements now?”

He came closer, still unsteadily, awkwardly, almost blind, but his eyes were burning with an unexpected and dangerous rage. Anna stepped back; she saw Abel take a step backward, too. He hadn’t backed off from the guys outside the bar, she thought.

“Bertil, sit down,” Frauke said.

“Don’t … don’t order me around,” Bertil said with his heavy tongue. And with a sudden, flailing movement of his arm, he pushed Anna aside and stood face-to-face with Abel. Anna lost her balance, grabbed onto the bar behind her, and knocked over a glass; she heard it crash, and felt a lot of faces turn toward her.

Staring at her and Abel and Bertil.

Abel stood motionless, as if he were made of stone. Even his face had turned to stone. Bertil took another step forward and flicked some snow off Abel’s jacket, like he was attempting to clean it, a strange gesture.

“Sure, I’ll never … never be as cool as T … Tannatek in his military jacket,” he slurred. “But listen here … you’re missing a button … a button on your jacket and … don’t you wanna cut your hair again? Your Nazi friends surely don’t … like you having it so l … long …” He reached out and plucked the black woolen hat from Abel’s head. Abel took it back from him. That was all he did. His face was stoney. They were extremely close now; Bertil was a little taller than Abel but not half as broad-shouldered. They stared at each other. The bar was silent.

Then Bertil noticed the silence. He looked around, seeming to enjoy the fact that everyone was listening to him for once, and turned back to Abel. “If I had a … a weapon,” he said, “I’d just … I’d just shoot you. L … like my fa … father did with that dog. One shot, poof, and that … that would be the end of you.”

When he said that, Abel suddenly came to life. He grabbed Bertil’s arm with his left, uninjured hand. Anna saw how tight the grip was, she heard Bertil gasp.

“If you want to fight with me, Bertil Hagemann, we’ll go outside,” he said in a low voice.

“Yeah. B-b-beating people up, that’s some … something you’re good at,” Bertil hissed. “Just words … words are not your spesh … speciality, are they? But maybe the girls l-l-like that … if a guy doesn’t talk much … but instead does oth-other things to them … maybe he’s good in bed, right, Anna? Why don’t you tell … tell us about it. We want all … all the details …”

At that moment Abel’s right hand slammed into Bertil’s face. His left hand was still gripping Bertil’s arm, and Anna saw him flinch as pain shot through his right hand.

“So,” Abel said, his voice still very low, “are you coming out with me or do I have to carry you?”

“Hennes,” Gitta said, “do something.” Anna actually heard something like fear in Gitta’s voice. Or was it her own fear? “If someone doesn’t bring him to his senses,” Gitta went on, “Bertil will let the Pole beat him to a pulp.”

Hennes got up from the sofa and stood next to Bertil. Hennes’s red hair shone, even in the darkness of the bar, even through the smoke; he stood as upright as always, in spite of the many colorful drinks, in spite of the joint. He put a hand on Bertil’s shoulder.

“Let go of him, Tannatek,” he said, very calmly. “We’ll look after him. He’s had too much to drink. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Abel released Bertil and folded his arms across his chest. “I think he knows perfectly well what he’s talking about,” he said. “He’s more honest than you, Hennes.”

“Of … of course, I know …” Bertil began.

“Shut up, Bertil,” Hennes said. And then, in a very loud and clear voice, continued, “Tannatek wants to leave now.”

Anna saw Abel’s eyes as he looked at Hennes. The blue in them had frozen, turned again into a solid block of ice.

“That’s what I think, too,” the bartender called out to Abel, whom he seemed to know. “Do me a favor, will you? I don’t feel like throwing you out.”

Abel took a deep breath, as if he wanted to say something, but then he turned around silently and left.

“Okay, and when he’s far enough away, you see to it that your friend gets home,” the bartender said to Hennes. “And when he’s slept off his hangover, tell him I don’t ever wanna see him in here again, understand?” Hennes took his hand from Bertil’s shoulder, and Bertil slumped into a chair. “Shit,” he mumbled. “Holy fucking shit.”

“That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said tonight,” Anna said. Seconds later, she was running down the street, the same street she had just walked along with Abel. She caught up with him at the end of it, a few yards from the market square.

“Abel!” she cried, reaching out. He swung round, and lifting up his hands, said defensively, “Don’t you dare touch me!”

“I … I didn’t want that to happen!” Anna despaired. “I didn’t know Bertil was … that he was so drunk and … I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t want things to end like that!”

“We’re not living in the Dark Ages,” Abel said. “Yeah, right. And not in India either. There’re no castes here. Ha.”

“But the bartender threw Bertil out, too, same as you! And he told us he doesn’t want to see him there again! Of course, there are no castes! All men are equal!”

“Do you ever listen to yourself when you’re talking such nonsense?” Abel asked.

“No,” Anna said. “Abel. Can’t we go somewhere, away from the others? Where there is nothing and no one? No people, no bars, no schoolyards, no tower blocks …”

He hesitated. Finally, he said: “The Elisenhain. The woods behind the village of Eldena. I promised Micha I’d take her there one day. She loves the woods when there is snow. We could go tomorrow.”

“When tomorrow? Where can I meet you?”

“The Russian store at the corner of the last street before the woods. At four.” He turned to go, and she heard him murmur, “I have to be fuckin’ out of my mind. Crazy.”

“Wait!” Anna called. “Where are you going now? Can’t I come with you?”

He turned back, and the look in his eyes was strange. “No, Anna,” he said. “Where I’m going now, you can’t come with me.”

Linda was sitting in the dark living room, pretending she wasn’t waiting up, when Anna got home.

“You can go to bed now,” Anna said and kissed her. “Sorry. I probably smell like a tobacco factory.”

“You’re shivering,” Linda said. “Didn’t you wear warm enough clothes?”

“I did,” Anna replied. “Even a borrowed sweatshirt. It’s not the cold. I think it’s rage.”

“At what?” Linda asked, but Anna just shrugged.

“Myself,” she said.

The questions came the next day, all the questions that hadn’t been asked the night before. A billion questions that pierced her like tiny sharp needles. Frauke shot most of them at her, but rumors are quick to spread, and the looks of classmates started to get under Anna’s skin. Anna Leemann, at night, in the Polish peddler’s sweatshirt? Is it true she’s dating him?