I dreaded getting there, though. I knew a lot of people would be coming, and I was nervous about the kind of reception I would get. On my way to school my phone kept pinging. I’d been silly enough to turn the sound back on. There were notifications from threads I was tagged in, threads I became tagged in as I was walking, but even after I had untagged myself, someone added my name in a later response. It was as if people, boys and girls I had once considered friends, wanted me to know they were talking about me.

Roger Midtbø, a guy in one of my parallel classes, even said that he was going to pin me to the ground and force the truth out of me with his fists. So far his comment had got forty-eight likes and quite a few responses from others wanting revenge. I didn’t think anyone would be foolish enough to actually jump me, but you could never really know.

The first thing I noticed as I got to the school was that the police cordons had been lifted. Only one police car was parked by the entrance. I knew it was probably still too soon for the school itself to open for classes, but at first glance everything looked normal. Almost as if nothing had happened.

When Mari and I were still together, the first thing I always did in the morning was look for her. Usually she was standing by the fountain, half listening to her friends’ chatter, but I knew she was waiting for me to arrive. When I did, and she saw me, her smile reached into her eyes, and it made me warm deep inside my heart. Now, as I passed the fountain, which was turned off for the winter, it was as if she was still standing there, smiling at me. I had to force myself not to cry.

Even though it was well before 11 a.m., quite a few people had already assembled outside the handball court building. I spotted Elise, one of Mari’s friends, standing next to two girls I knew by appearance, but not by name. Elise was one of the girls who’d tried to comfort Ida Hammer the day before.

I went over to her and said hello. She turned and stared at me, looking a bit shocked. I tried to ignore that.

‘Do you know if Ida is coming later?’ I asked.

‘No,’ she said, squaring her shoulders.

‘No, you don’t know if she’s coming, or no, she’s not coming?’

‘I don’t know if she’s coming.’

‘OK. If you see her, could you tell her I need to talk to her?’

‘Why?’ There was an edge to her voice that made me want to say something sarcastic.

‘Just … tell her what I said, OK?’