STORY: The Trip to Gotland
A short story about a first breach against childhood trust. No sex or violence.
The Trip to Gotland
By Christina Nordlander
Maria met the other girls in the painted playhouse on her block. That day it was so grey and rainy there was nobody else in the playground. The playhouse was at least dry, but it had big windows that didn't keep the wind out. All the others in the club were older than her.
“I think we should save up for something,” Fifi said.
Fifi was probably the oldest. She was pretty, long and slim with shiny brown hair that curled.
“Like going somewhere. To Öland or Gotland, for example. Or to Värsnäs and camp out.”
“Can't we go to Gotland?” Maria said.
Nadja gave her a little shove, the way Dad did when he thought she was talking too much. She had straight hair that was lighter than Maria's, almost white. She was the one Maria knew best, the others were more like Nadja's friends.
She'd never been to Öland or Gotland. There was a bridge to Öland. That wasn't as exciting, because then it wasn't a real island any more, but then you could ride your bike across. That way you wouldn't need as much money. Maybe it was scary if it was windy and you could see all the way down to the flat blue sea. To Gotland you could only take the boat. That was almost like another country.
“We'll wait with deciding that until we've saved up a bit,” said Karla, who had short-cropped hair and was taller than Fifi. “How much you got?”
They put their money together on the counter outside the house, even though it had slits between the boards. Maria put her hand in her tight jeans pocket and pulled out the silver-coloured fifty-öre coin Dad had given her for her allowance. The other girls had many coins and some grey ten-kronor bills. When she started school she would get more allowance.
*
A week must have passed. She was skipping on the stretch of asphalt between the terraced flats when Nadja got home from school, and they walked the last bit together.
“When are we seeing each other again?” she said. “I've got another fifty öre.”
Nadja turned her head. Her round face was flat in the sunlight, her eyes looked like mirrors.
“Oh, the cash? We bought ice-cream for it.”
They played that day too.
*
When she mentioned it, several years later, Nadja didn't recognise it until she'd told the whole story.
“But you only had fifty öre,” she said. “If we'd brought you, it would have just been me and the others paying for your ice-cream.”
It hadn't been about the coin. Even then, she hadn't thought about the fact that they'd taken her money, but they'd said they were going to save up for a trip.
THE END
The Trip to Gotland
By Christina Nordlander
Maria met the other girls in the painted playhouse on her block. That day it was so grey and rainy there was nobody else in the playground. The playhouse was at least dry, but it had big windows that didn't keep the wind out. All the others in the club were older than her.
“I think we should save up for something,” Fifi said.
Fifi was probably the oldest. She was pretty, long and slim with shiny brown hair that curled.
“Like going somewhere. To Öland or Gotland, for example. Or to Värsnäs and camp out.”
“Can't we go to Gotland?” Maria said.
Nadja gave her a little shove, the way Dad did when he thought she was talking too much. She had straight hair that was lighter than Maria's, almost white. She was the one Maria knew best, the others were more like Nadja's friends.
She'd never been to Öland or Gotland. There was a bridge to Öland. That wasn't as exciting, because then it wasn't a real island any more, but then you could ride your bike across. That way you wouldn't need as much money. Maybe it was scary if it was windy and you could see all the way down to the flat blue sea. To Gotland you could only take the boat. That was almost like another country.
“We'll wait with deciding that until we've saved up a bit,” said Karla, who had short-cropped hair and was taller than Fifi. “How much you got?”
They put their money together on the counter outside the house, even though it had slits between the boards. Maria put her hand in her tight jeans pocket and pulled out the silver-coloured fifty-öre coin Dad had given her for her allowance. The other girls had many coins and some grey ten-kronor bills. When she started school she would get more allowance.
*
A week must have passed. She was skipping on the stretch of asphalt between the terraced flats when Nadja got home from school, and they walked the last bit together.
“When are we seeing each other again?” she said. “I've got another fifty öre.”
Nadja turned her head. Her round face was flat in the sunlight, her eyes looked like mirrors.
“Oh, the cash? We bought ice-cream for it.”
They played that day too.
*
When she mentioned it, several years later, Nadja didn't recognise it until she'd told the whole story.
“But you only had fifty öre,” she said. “If we'd brought you, it would have just been me and the others paying for your ice-cream.”
It hadn't been about the coin. Even then, she hadn't thought about the fact that they'd taken her money, but they'd said they were going to save up for a trip.
THE END