Punished

18. Marge

MARGE

1954

The boys had been woken first, each asked the same question: Where is Jon-Ante? When they shook their heads, clueless, Anna went to the girls. They sat up in bed, still half-asleep, it was so early, and said they didn’t know anything either.

Marge changed from her nightgown to her green sweater and matching knee-length skirt, which Enná had made. Mutters coursed among the girls; never before had a child disappeared like this. Sure, maybe someone didn’t show up again after a visit home, but that was different. This time, a child was missing. She tried not to think of the háldi, but she couldn’t help it. Hadn’t Jon-Ante been able to resist? Had a spirit called to him in the night, forced him to get up and walk right out?

The storm had woken her up, and several of the other girls too. The rain beat against the window and she thought of her family, wondering where they were.

“You can all go out and look for him. But don’t go far, stay nearby,” said Anna.

Marge could see the worry in her eyes, and it stoked her own fear. She wanted to point out that it might have been the háldi. If only Jon-Ante had been wearing his knife on his belt. But they weren’t allowed to have knives at school, and that was the only way to protect yourself. When the háldi lured a child away, when it took on a form the child recognized and trusted, and spoke in a familiar voice, what choice was there but to follow it? Later, though, when the háldi turned around, it had no face. And then Jon-Ante would have needed to grab his knife and throw it over the creature’s head. It was the only way to save himself.

“You can have breakfast after we search,” said Anna.

Marge’s tummy rumbled, but she followed the group outside. The boys were already in the schoolyard, most of them looking serious, but not Nilsa. She saw a tiny smile on his lips as he and Guttorm exchanged glances. Didn’t the grown-ups notice? Marge went to Anna and tugged gently at her apron. Anna had that busy look on her face, and Marge didn’t know how to say it. She nodded toward Nilsa, but Anna merely rested a hand on her back.

“It’s going to be okay, Marge, you don’t need to worry.”

Nilsa glared, and Marge looked up at the sky, her eyes following two crows. Heavy wingbeats, and then they landed on the schoolhouse roof. They must have seen where Jon-Ante had gone, but no one understood their croaks. Marge tried, watching the quick movements of their heads.

The boys were directed toward the river, with strict orders not to go into the water. The girls were to search around the school and the church, as well as the edge of the woods. Marge wanted to cover her ears—what if the háldi were there and called out to her? It had happened before, and it could happen again.

The others gave her strange looks as she pressed her palms over her ears until she couldn’t hear. Someone called out for Jon-Ante. Marge kept close behind the big girls, who moved down the slope behind the dormitory with serious expressions, pushing the birch twigs aside. What if they found his dead body? She took off her glasses in case she saw anything scary—this way, she wouldn’t see it clearly. Else-Maj led the way; she may have been the smallest of her age group, but she was also the bravest. She held her little sister’s hand. Sara was back after her case of mumps and the two sisters were never far apart. Marge wished she, too, had a big sister to lean on.

Else-Maj’s eyes searched the forest; she was probably planning to go deeper into the woods than they were allowed. “Wait here with Sara, I’ll go check.”

Marge took Sara’s hand gratefully—it felt better to have someone to hold on to—and Sara leaned against her. She put her glasses back on and caught glimpses of Else-Maj’s red summer cap with its white tip among the trees. Marge wouldn’t take her eyes off her. Should she warn her about the háldi? She moved deeper into the birches, making Sara come along, glancing backwards—the other girls were beginning to move toward the church.

“Else-Maj!” Marge had to take a few more steps into the picked-over blueberry thickets. She could no longer see Else-Maj’s red beccegahpir and Marge didn’t know if she should call for the other big girls.

“Is she gone too now?” Sara sounded worried.

“Oh, no. I just wanted to tell her something.” She tried to make her voice reassuring. The no-see-ums, hardly a millimeter in size, bit her neck and face. The crows were still on the roof, their beaks pointing to the forest, showing her the way, and she took another few steps. “Else-Maj,” she called again.

A creak among the birches and the red cap was back. Marge resisted the urge to run up to Else-Maj and throw her arms around her. Else-Maj kept her eyes to the ground, looking for tracks—that must be why they hadn’t seen her.

“He’s not here, and he didn’t walk through here either,” she said decisively when she reached them. “Why were you calling for me?”

“I…” Marge looked at the crows again, but they had turned their backs on her. “I thought maybe there were háldi here…” She fell silent. “You know, since Jon-Ante is missing.”

Else-Maj didn’t laugh at her. No child would laugh at such a thing. Well, maybe Nilsa would, because he wasn’t scared of anything at all. “Have you heard them?”

“No, not this time, but I have before.”

“We can’t talk about that stuff with the grown-ups here, you know that, right?” Else-Maj spat and wiped the corner of her mouth. Her lips were blue; she must have found some blueberries.

“I know.”

“Let’s go check the river.”

“But only the boys were supposed to go there.”

Else-Maj scoffed. “I don’t think they’ll care, as long as we find him.”

“But we aren’t going to find him.”

Else-Maj looked at her with a peculiar expression. For once, Marge stood her ground.

“I think he was taken.”

“Take Sara back and stay in the yard with Anna. I’ll take the path down behind the dormitory, they won’t see me that way.”

“Listen, though, if someone calls out for you, don’t follow.”

Else-Maj was sparing with her smiles, but now she grinned. “You called out for me, and I didn’t come even then.”

With that, she was on her way to the river and Marge headed for the schoolyard with Sara. There, Housemother was standing close to Anna and shouting in her face. If a child went missing, it was Housemother’s fault, she had heard the big girls whisper. Marge saw them come sauntering across the yard.

“Well?” Housemother called, and they shook their heads. The witch brandished her finger at Anna, then turned on her heel and went back inside the dormitory.

“You have to eat your breakfast now, school will start soon.” Anna’s voice sounded dull, and her otherwise rosy cheeks were pale.

She called for the boys; the girls were already on their way to the dining hall. Else-Maj didn’t show up with the boys. Marge saw her slip between the buildings and appear to be coming back from over by the church.

They ate breakfast in silence. Not a single giggle had to be reprimanded. No one pinched a neighbor or got up to any mischief. Marge chewed her dry piece of bread and dangled her feet. She could hardly swallow.

Back inside the dormitory, they roved about like disquieted souls, waiting, reading in the adults’ expressions that this wasn’t going to end well.

But then a truck pulled into the drive and the big girls rushed to the window.

“It’s Pekka! And he’s got Jon-Ante!”

A relieved murmur spread through them, a collective exhalation that made Marge sink onto her bed for a moment. Someone said thank God . Someone else let out a laugh.

Marge stood up, needing the bathroom. She ran into Anna in the doorway of the girls’ room. The roses had returned to her cheeks and her eyes were shiny.

“Where are you going, Marge?”

“I need to pee.”

Anna let her by and kept talking to the other girls, but Marge wasn’t listening. She stopped at the stairs, hearing voices. Pekka’s Finnish and Housemother’s monosyllabic responses in Swedish. Marge wasn’t like Else-Maj, she wasn’t a risk-taker, but it was as though her feet had a mind of their own. She climbed down the first half-set of stairs and peered around the corner.

Pekka gesticulated, Jon-Ante stared at the floor, and Housemother shifted from side to side, her fists clenched. She shooed Pekka out. At last Marge had to close her eyes. Just for a few seconds, just to keep from seeing. Her knees felt weak beneath her skirt and her ears buzzed. No blows struck her, but even so she felt like she was falling backwards. She peeked out of one eye. Housemother had grabbed Jon-Ante by the arms and was shaking him. Marge closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Housemother was bending down as though to yank him back up, or—what was she doing? Marge saw only her high-heeled shoe as it stomped on his hand. She echoed Jon-Ante’s scream with her own.