Back A Friend in the Dark
Chapters (15)
  1. Cover
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. About the Author
  15. Copyright

“I’ve got it: 1897. And what’s more I can tell you that it was in the Paris–Dieppe motor race.”

My father whistled in admiration and got up, because he had work to do.

“I still don’t understand how it is that you can learn everything there is to know about the Panhard car by heart, but you can’t…”

I could see where this was going, and even if he was right, that didn’t make it right.

“I get it, Dad. Stop now though, because, well, you know.”

“Do you remember when you thought Nelson Mandela was the centre forward for the Auxerre football team?”

“Don’t poke fun at me.”

We had a good laugh, blowing memories to each other like bubbles.

“You wait,” he said, brandishing the Krebs manual, which is a sort of bible covering everything there is to know about the Panhard car. “Tomorrow I’ll have a really impossible one for you. You’ll never get it.”

“I will too. And you won’t either.”

In my bedroom, I had a quick look at the timetable stuck on the wall and felt a bit depressed. My first lesson the following day was at eight-thirty. I thought again about what my father had said: “It’s all about how you start. Not too fast, but lively enough.” I saw Alexandre Dumas’ book on the bedside table. There was no doubt it was going to take me longer to read than it took him to write. I was at page four. I decided to read the Krebs manual instead, because I really wanted to catch Dad out.

2

x – 2(4x + 1) = 4(2 – x) + 2

Without a doubt, this was my first problem of the year. Not the only problem, but the first. I tried to remember what we’d learned last year, but frankly nothing came to me. I looked over at Haisam, who’d already put down his fountain pen. I wondered whether for once he didn’t know the answer, but it turned out that he’d already finished, thanks to the mysterious turbocharger in his brain. I threw him a despairing look and he just raised his chubby hand a few inches off the desk. That’s his way of giving encouragement. What he means is: don’t worry, it’ll all work out, maybe not so well, but it’ll work out. It’s true that I was feeling quite anxious, because of my difficulties at school and the gaps in my knowledge.