Chapter 16
“Shut the door behind you, please,” says Ms. Granberg, and I do as she says.
She’s sitting in a chair behind a small desk. To her left hangs one of those charts with letters of various sizes to test eyesight, and below that is a shiny electronic scale. I take a seat on the empty wooden chair opposite her.
“And how are we today, Tuva?” Ms. Granberg asks with a wide smile full of white teeth. She has a tiny gold star on one of her canines.
I wonder if she has a belly button ring too. She seems like the kind of person who would.
“Fine,” I say.
Ms. Granberg looks down at her papers. “Your birthday is the fourteenth of December, right? You’re about to turn thirteen.”
“Mmm.”
“But you’re a little below average, I see,” says Ms. Granberg, tilting her head. The gold star glints. “In terms of height and weight, I mean. Shall we see if anything has changed?”
I show my teeth. She seems to interpret this as a smile of agreement.
Ms. Granberg asks me to stand against the wall.
“Four foot eight. Quite short for your age. But maybe you’ll catch up by next summer.”
I can’t see her face, but I just know she’s flashing that dumb smile.
“Could you stand on the scale, please?”
I stand on the scale, and she notes my weight. Then she tests my eyesight and hearing and takes my blood pressure. The armband pinches as it inflates, but I don’t move a muscle.
It feels like she’s trying to provoke a reaction.
“Okay, Tuva,” she says at last, sitting down behind her desk again. “You appear healthy. On the smaller side, perhaps. You should follow up with your pediatrician. Maybe try drinking more milk.”
I can’t tell if she’s joking.
“How much exercise do you get?” she asks.
“I take the dog out every day,” I say. “Sometimes twice.”
“Uh-huh,” Ms. Granberg says and jots something down on her pad.
When she looks up, I notice her eyes are translucent blue. Like two glass beads.
“I know that all this Axel stuff must be very difficult for you, Tuva.”
I shrug.
“We have a school counselor you can talk to. If you feel the need, that is?”
“It’s okay,” I say.
“How have you been sleeping lately? Have you been having nightmares?”
Why is she asking me that?
Ms. Granberg sits there with a knowing smile. Pearly-pink nails and shiny hair. There’s a glint in her eye as if she knows exactly what I’m thinking. As if this whole health check is just an excuse to interrogate me.
“Yes,” I say. “I have been having nightmares.”
“Ah. What have you been dreaming about, if I may ask?”
She waits for me to answer, pen in hand. Her eyebrows are slightly raised. “Have you been dreaming about anything in particular?” she says. “Something to do with Axel’s disappearance . . . or the sea?”
Something about her sickly-sweet voice gives me the creeps.
I get up, pushing the chair back with so much force that it topples over, and blurt, “I’d better go now.”
Ms. Granberg looks at the chair in silence.
I pick it up and put it back where it belongs. Then I get out of there.