Jerry sat down with Theres in a corner behind a gigantic plastic yucca. As Theres gazed around Jerry sat with his head between his knees, grinding his teeth at his own stupidity. When he eventually looked up he saw Theres slowly wandering among the groups of young people, studying them as if they were pictures at an exhibition. That was relatively normal. It was OK. After all, this was one of the reasons they were here, wasn’t it?
After quarter of an hour, Theres came back and sat down next to him.
‘They’re scared,’ she said.
‘Who?’ said Jerry. ‘The ones who are going to audition?’
‘All the little girls and all the little boys,’ said Theres. ‘They’re scared of the big people.’
‘I should think they’re just nervous, mostly.’
‘They’re nervous because they’re scared. I don’t get it.’
Jerry smiled, in spite of everything. The new expressions Theres had learned still sounded strange coming out of her mouth. ‘What don’t you get?’ he asked.
‘Why they’re scared. There are lots of us. There aren’t lots of big people here.’
‘No,’ said Jerry. ‘That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose.’
A little way off sat a girl who actually looked even younger than Theres, and Jerry wondered if any of the others were here under false pretences. The girl was rubbing her scalp compulsively, and suddenly started shaking and sobbing. Theres got up and went over to her, crouching down by her feet.
Jerry didn’t hear what they said, but after a while the girl stopped crying and nodded bravely. She took Theres’ hand and gave it a brief pat. Theres allowed it to happen. Then she came back to sit with Jerry.
‘What was that all about?’ he asked.
‘I can’t tell you,’ she said, staring straight ahead. Jerry had never seen her like this. A heavy, solemn calm emanated from her, so strong that Jerry unconsciously moved slightly closer, drawn to her so that she would soothe his own anxiety. Her back was straight and she was utterly still, with an impassive expression on her face that suggested she had seen through the whole thing, that the ghost was nothing but smoke and mirrors.
A little while later it was an older girl with teased black hair who broke down, dragging her friend down with her until they were both sitting there sobbing as the mascara smeared their cheeks. Theres went over and sat with them.
The result was not as immediate this time, but Jerry could see how quickly the two girls accepted Theres and listened to what she said. One of them laughed out loud and shook her head, as if Theres had said something absurd but uplifting. When she noticed that Theres wasn’t smiling, she stopped laughing and leaned closer to listen.
And so it went on. There were no more breakdowns among those who were waiting, but from time to time a boy or girl came back from one of the rooms upstairs and obviously hadn’t got the reception he or she expected. The boys were usually furious, and Theres took no notice of them, but sometimes there was a girl with tears running down her cheeks, and Theres was there to console her. Or whatever it was she was doing.
Some ignored her, others became slightly aggressive when this stranger tried to make contact in their darkest hour, but several moved close to Theres and sat down with her to talk. Sometimes it ended with a hug which Theres accepted without reciprocating, sometimes she was given a piece of paper or a card. A name or phone number, presumably.
Towards three o’clock a woman with a headset and a clipboard came in and called out Theres’ number, along with three others.
Theres, deep in conversation with a red-haired girl who had practically had to be carried down the stairs from the audition room, didn’t react. Jerry ran over and told her it was her turn now. Theres stood up and said goodbye to the red-haired girl, who whispered, ‘Good luck,’ in a voice thick with tears.
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ asked Jerry.
‘There’s no need,’ said Theres, and headed for the stairs. Jerry watched her go into a room on the next floor along with clipboard-woman, and his heart clenched. Something had changed irrevocably today. He didn’t know if this was a good thing or a bad thing. As usual.
Three minutes later, Theres emerged. Some of the girls she had talked to had waited, presumably to see how she got on, and she was immediately surrounded by seven eager, questioning faces.
Theres’ expression was unreadable. She looked exactly the same as when she walked in. The only thing that told Jerry how things had gone was a brief nod, then seven cheering voices.
THE OTHER GIRL
The experience with Tora Larsson’s song had shaken Teresa. She was boiling inside and needed to let off steam. As soon as she got to her room that evening, she logged on to Lunarstorm to see how the discussion was going.
She thought she had been struck by spontaneous dyslexia. It took a while for her to grasp that it did actually say what she thought it said. Tora Larsson was the most written about of that evening’s contestants, and most people thought she was terrible, or worse. They said she had no presence, no star quality. They said her clothes were ugly and her haircut was even uglier. They said the song she sang was crap. The only thing nobody complained about was her voice, but everything else about her appearance was scrutinised and deemed to be dire, stupid, meaningless and boring.
Teresa had always conducted herself sensibly in chat rooms and on discussion forums. Apart from the wolf forum, she was a calculating troll who dragged her baited hook where it would have the greatest effect, only to watch with an ironic smile as the little fish made their pathetic attempts to bite. But now she saw red. She was so agitated that her fingers would hardly obey her as she logged in with her alter ego Josefin, and started to write her reply.
She tried to remain calm, in spite of everything. She wrote that Tora Larsson had the most fantastic voice that had ever been heard on
It didn’t really cover everything Teresa felt, but it was impossible to put the most important things into words so it would have to do. She clicked on send. The answers came quickly. One or two people who agreed with her plucked up the courage to crawl out into the open and give her tentative support, but the majority simply jeered. You’d have to be a complete loser to like such a reject. Tora was totally out of place; she wouldn’t get a single vote, and so on.
It was a relief for Teresa to let herself go. She hadn’t felt comfortable writing calmly about what she really felt. Now she gave free rein to everything that was boiling and fermenting inside her.
Her joy in finding exactly the right phrase came to the fore as she wrote about the detractors’ vacant heads, how they had been force fed so much plastic pop music that their brains short circuited when they actually saw a real person; she suggested they get up from in front of the computer and go kneel before the shrine to Elin Lanto which they no doubt had in their bedroom, next to their signed
Less-gifted barbs came back at her, and Teresa was in her element. Sometimes she got hesitant support from the sidelines, someone who squeaked, ‘Hi, Josefin. You’re right’, fanning the flames. A few dropped out of the mudslinging and new participants joined in. However, those who supported her stayed on.
At one o’clock in the morning, Teresa wrote, ‘Good night’, and logged out. Her head was buzzing, but the pressure she had felt was gone. When she went to bed the image of Tora Larsson remained in her mind’s eye for a long time before she managed to fall asleep.
The following day there was a lot of talk in school, but Teresa didn’t join in the discussions. Somewhere inside she knew you can’t convince people that something is fantastic if they don’t already think it is. Her behaviour on the net was just a way of letting off steam, not a serious attempt to recruit support.
Besides which, there was a key difference in school. The general opinion was the same as it had been on the
