– not that I could remember anyway. I had done it! It didn’t matter that the float had helped – I had swum in the sea! I stood up on the tiny rock and punched the air and the rubber ring fell to my feet. I was stronger than the nightmare. ‘I did it!’ I yelled, and lifted both arms high into the air. Like the guy in the film I’d seen on my first night at the school, I punched my fist into the air. ‘Freedom!’ I shouted, and Hannu clapped and cheered, like I was some kind of superstar.
Chapter Eleven
Those next few days, full of sky, sun and sea, were the best days ever. It was a hot summer and I felt like I was on holiday. Hannu was given the go-ahead to teach me to swim better too – that’s what he told me. He kept trying to bring up the topic of his leaving, like he was preparing me, but I didn’t want to hear. I zoned out when he went on about it. I just wanted to swim.
And Hannu was right – I did swim like a seal. The Wild School, Hannu kept saying, believed in giving their pupils space, and time. ‘They want the best for you,’ he kept telling me. I didn’t care what the Wild School wanted. I wanted to swim in the sea. And I wanted to swim further and further out. After three days, I left the orange baby float on the rocks, waded straight into the Baltic – and swam. On my own! Hannu said he wished work could always be like this. ‘This is the life, isn’t it, Niilo?’ Hannu, swimming on his back, splashed up water with his feet.
I did the same, swimming as easily on my back as onmy front. ‘Think I could swim to Sweden,’ I shouted, flicking a spray of water over Hannu. We were swimming way past the white buoy and I overtook him, then flipped over and yelled, ‘You trying to help me escape?’
Hannu dived deep and rose up through the water next to me. ‘That’s exactly what I’m trying to do. But not in the way you think.’
We swam on. By now the Wild School island was half a kilometre at our backs. The vast horizon lay shimmering ahead.
‘You don’t get it, Niilo,’ Hannu said as we swam, slowly now. ‘I told you. Freedom’s an inside thing.’
I kicked my feet back hard and felt a fist of anger surge through me. It was so easy for him to prattle on about freedom being an inside-yourself thing. What rubbish. ‘Try saying that when you hear your bedroom door click locked behind you at night.’ I treaded water and ranted, ‘Try saying that when you get no phone, no cigarettes, no Xbox, no nothing except boring old books from the library. Try saying that when you have to stay in the school and watch all the staff go off home on the ferry. Try saying that when you can’t choose what to do. Try saying that—’
‘Okay, Niilo. Okay. I’m sorry.’
I swam away fast and dipped my head under so Hannu wouldn’t see what was tears and what was sea water.
He switched to front crawl to keep up. ‘Niilo, I said I’m sorry. I’m just trying to do the right thing, that’s all.’
I swam without saying anything for a while, thensuddenly turned to him. ‘What do you mean – you lost your memory?’
We swam slowly. I could feel him dragging his story up, getting it ready for telling. I didn’t look at him – sometimes it’s easier like that. We were swimming further out to sea when he told me: how he’d had a car crash when he was twenty-three. He’d just left Lapland, where he lived. ‘I was heading south to Helsinki – to the big city. I’d bought my first car. I was so proud of that car. There was ice on the road. Black ice. And I was probably driving too fast. The car skidded. That’s the last thing I remembered.’ Hannu told me how he had been in a coma for four months, and when he came out of it he was fit and healthy, apart from the slash down his back where the edge of the car door had wedged into him … but he couldn’t remember a thing. If it wasn’t for his father, he said, sitting by his bedside with photo albums and telling him stories of his
Chapter Eleven
Those next few days, full of sky, sun and sea, were the best days ever. It was a hot summer and I felt like I was on holiday. Hannu was given the go-ahead to teach me to swim better too – that’s what he told me. He kept trying to bring up the topic of his leaving, like he was preparing me, but I didn’t want to hear. I zoned out when he went on about it. I just wanted to swim.
And Hannu was right – I did swim like a seal. The Wild School, Hannu kept saying, believed in giving their pupils space, and time. ‘They want the best for you,’ he kept telling me. I didn’t care what the Wild School wanted. I wanted to swim in the sea. And I wanted to swim further and further out. After three days, I left the orange baby float on the rocks, waded straight into the Baltic – and swam. On my own! Hannu said he wished work could always be like this. ‘This is the life, isn’t it, Niilo?’ Hannu, swimming on his back, splashed up water with his feet.
I did the same, swimming as easily on my back as onmy front. ‘Think I could swim to Sweden,’ I shouted, flicking a spray of water over Hannu. We were swimming way past the white buoy and I overtook him, then flipped over and yelled, ‘You trying to help me escape?’
Hannu dived deep and rose up through the water next to me. ‘That’s exactly what I’m trying to do. But not in the way you think.’
We swam on. By now the Wild School island was half a kilometre at our backs. The vast horizon lay shimmering ahead.
‘You don’t get it, Niilo,’ Hannu said as we swam, slowly now. ‘I told you. Freedom’s an inside thing.’
I kicked my feet back hard and felt a fist of anger surge through me. It was so easy for him to prattle on about freedom being an inside-yourself thing. What rubbish. ‘Try saying that when you hear your bedroom door click locked behind you at night.’ I treaded water and ranted, ‘Try saying that when you get no phone, no cigarettes, no Xbox, no nothing except boring old books from the library. Try saying that when you have to stay in the school and watch all the staff go off home on the ferry. Try saying that when you can’t choose what to do. Try saying that—’
‘Okay, Niilo. Okay. I’m sorry.’
I swam away fast and dipped my head under so Hannu wouldn’t see what was tears and what was sea water.
He switched to front crawl to keep up. ‘Niilo, I said I’m sorry. I’m just trying to do the right thing, that’s all.’
I swam without saying anything for a while, thensuddenly turned to him. ‘What do you mean – you lost your memory?’
We swam slowly. I could feel him dragging his story up, getting it ready for telling. I didn’t look at him – sometimes it’s easier like that. We were swimming further out to sea when he told me: how he’d had a car crash when he was twenty-three. He’d just left Lapland, where he lived. ‘I was heading south to Helsinki – to the big city. I’d bought my first car. I was so proud of that car. There was ice on the road. Black ice. And I was probably driving too fast. The car skidded. That’s the last thing I remembered.’ Hannu told me how he had been in a coma for four months, and when he came out of it he was fit and healthy, apart from the slash down his back where the edge of the car door had wedged into him … but he couldn’t remember a thing. If it wasn’t for his father, he said, sitting by his bedside with photo albums and telling him stories of his
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