The wheels slipped and spun for a moment, but Bertil managed to right the car again. “Snow chains,” he said, “what you need now are snow chains. Damn. I can’t see a thing.” The wind blew snowflakes against the windshield, the flakes like mad dancers seeking the spotlight; it was hypnotizing, the to and fro of the wipers and the steady appearance of new flakes, coming nearer, growing bigger, and disappearing.

“How can you drive in this weather?”

“I can’t,” said Bertil. “I have to. You would have frozen to death out there … There’s the big road.”

The turn was so treacherous that the Volvo skidded again. On the big road, there were other cars, and at first, Anna felt safer, but then a car in front of them skidded and stopped. Bertil cursed, loudly this time. The Volvo came to a halt a few inches from the other car’s bumper.

“Somebody was following me,” said Anna. “Out there, in Ludwigsburg, between the pines. Maybe the person who killed those two men—Lierski and Marinke. You know who I’m talking about.”

“Do I?” Bertil asked as he waited for the other car to drive on and then stepped on the accelerator again. Somewhere ahead of them, the orange lights of a snowplow and a tow truck were blinking. One side of the road was completely filled with snow, and only one lane was open. Bertil stopped again to let a car coming from the other direction pass them.

“Aren’t you afraid?” Anna asked.

He shook his head. “The worst that can happen is … what? That we get stuck? That we have an accident?” He looked at her. “The worst is always death. I don’t mind that. Then I’ll die in this car with you. That would be okay.”

“Bertil, please … watch the road.” The dog was whining behind Anna. He had crouched down, his head beneath the front tire of Anna’s bike.

“The road!” Bertil laughed. “What does the road matter. I love you.”

“I know,” Anna said. “But watch the damn road!”

“You know? You don’t know anything, Anna,” Bertil murmured, turning his attention back to the road. “I’m the one who’s always there, who’ll always be there for you. But I’m always second best. I’m the freak with the thick glasses, the too-tall freak who’s too cautious, the freak who’ll never be cool. The teachers say that I’m intelligent! Intelligent? Fuck intelligent. I’ve always wanted to be something else. If I had a choice, I’d choose to look like Tannatek. You can bet I would. I don’t, though. I don’t have a choice.”

“Bertil …”

“People like you always end up with guys like him, and later, they’re surprised by what happens … Do what you want, Anna Leemann. Do what you think you have to do, but whatever that is, I’ll be there, in case of emergency … I hate being the safety net, nothing more than the safety net. But if I can’t be anything else, I will be that.”

There was another snowdrift. He braked too hard, the dog howled, and the Volvo lost its grip on the road. When Anna opened her eyes again this time, the car was turned around. “Shit,” Bertil said, for the umpteenth time. “The wheels are spinning again. We gotta put something under the front tires … I’ve got a blanket in the back …”

He jumped out, and Anna stayed behind, alone in the car, in the tiny capsule of warmth. She turned to the silver-gray dog. “He’s mad,” she whispered. “He’s absolutely mad, you know that? I should love him for this, for getting me out of the storm, for wanting to take care of me, for the very fact that he loves me … but you can’t force yourself to love somebody. And it’s true, everything he says about himself. The world is so unjust. We …”

Bertil opened the driver’s door, and an icy gust of wind blew a handful of snowflakes into the car. “Move over!” he shouted against the storm. “Into the driver’s seat! I’ll push. You drive!”

“I can’t drive a car!” Anna shouted back, but she slid over anyway.

He bent into the car, put her right hand onto the clutch. “Foot onto the left pedal, first gear, gas is on the right side!” he shouted. “You’ve never done this?”

“I did once, with Magnus …”

“If we wait any longer, it’s going to get worse, and we might never get the car going again. Come on! I’ll push!”

He slammed the door shut, and Anna started the engine, but the tires still didn’t have a grip on the road, and outside, the snow was turning the world into a whirling chaos.

“Abel,” whispered Anna. “Abel, I don’t want to freeze out here with Bertil! Where are you? Where are you?”

And all of a sudden, she knew what she wanted. Very clearly. She wanted to be with him. If she made it out of this, she would go and find him … walk, run, pedal, let the wind blow her toward him … whatever. She couldn’t forgive him, for that was impossible. The cloak of love would be forever torn, never new and beautiful again, allowing the wind to blow through the holes, making her freeze in the cold. But she would live on wearing it for she couldn’t do anything else. And he couldn’t go back to being the Abel he was before the night in the boathouse, for that wasn’t possible either. He’d have to live on wearing the memory of what he did. And still … and still.

Magnus had been right: in love there wasn’t rationality.

But where would she find Abel? At school, sure, tomorrow, but it was impossible to talk to him at school, where the others were watching. She accelerated again, the car seemed to want to move and didn’t. The wheels were spinning. The dog behind her was whining, a high, desperate sound.

If we lose each other in this endless icy winter, where will we find each other? she heard the little queen ask. And she heard the answer: Where it’s spring.

The tulips. Red tulips in white vases in the café at the beginning of the pier in Wieck. “Here, spring has already arrived,” Micha had said.

Anna pushed the accelerator once more, and this time, the car leaped forward. She let it roll, braked, and disengaged the clutch; I can do it, she thought, I can drive; if I have to, I can do anything. She slid back into the passenger seat, and the storm blew Bertil back into the car. His dark hair was full of white snowflakes, his glasses instantly fogged up in the warmth.

“Cheers,” he said. “That driver’s license is all yours.”

He leaned over, and Anna knew he was hoping for a kiss. For a moment, he seemed so full of hope, so happy—she kissed him on the mouth with closed lips, quickly. “Come on,” she said, “let’s get out of this.”

When they saw the lights of Eldena, the neon advertising of the supermarket there, the street lamps of the new housing development, Anna felt a great relief. The snowdrifts in the fields were behind them. Here, the road was a road once more.

Anna looked at the clock on the dashboard. Five thirty. It was as dark as midnight. “Can you let me out at the bridge in Wieck?” she asked. “Linda … my mother … she meets friends at the restaurant there every Wednesday. I can go home with her.”

“Don’t you want me to take you home?”

“You really don’t have to,” Anna said. “Just drive me to the bridge. That way you won’t have to go into the city. You can just go around it and avoid the traffic. You live on the other side of the city, don’t you?”

He nodded. “Okay … you’re sure your mother’s there?”

“Absolutely sure,” Anna replied. And she was sure that her mother was there. It just depended on what was meant by “there.” In Linda’s case, “there” was a house full of blue air in Greifswald. She would never do something as weird as meet her friends in a restaurant in Wieck every Wednesday. Bertil helped her get the bike out of the back.

“You’re soaking wet,” he said. “You should get home fast.”

“Yes,” she said. For a moment they stood there, facing each other through the snow, freezing. The wind had subsided a little, but the snowflakes were still falling steadily, as if they wanted to cover the whole world.