The Unpredictability of Being Human

by Linni Ingemundsen

  The Unpredictability of Being Human

  United States Edition

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, places, incidents, and dialogue are the product of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real, or if real, are used fictitiously. Unless other intended, any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, either living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by Linni Ingemundsen

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  For more information, to inquire about rights to this or other works, or to purchase copies for special educational, business, or sales promotional uses please write to:

  Incorgnito Publishing Press

  A division of Market Management Group, LLC

  300 E. Bellevue Drive, Suite 208

  Pasadena, California 91101

  FIRST EDITION U.S., Puerto Rico, Guam, Canada, and US Virgin Islands

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN: 978-1-944589-36-3

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  First Published in the UK, January 2018 by

  Usborne Publishing Ltd., Usborne House, 83-85 Saffron Hill, London ECIN 8RT, England

  www.usborne.com

  Cover Image: Cat © GlobalP / Thinkstock

  1

  You, Me and God Himself

  If I got to be God for one day, the first thing I’d do would be to microwave a bag of popcorn to perfection. Where all the corns got popped and not a single corn burned. And then I’d make sure that everyone else who made popcorn that day had their bags cooked to perfection too. I think a lot of people would be happy that day.

  The next thing I might do is to take back what happened that day in Holberg’s shop, because that was pretty silly. But then again, maybe I wouldn’t undo it, because if I hadn’t shoplifted that day I wouldn’t have met Hanna Kjerag. You might ask why I don’t change things around so that I met Hanna anyway, but I don’t think it works that way. I think that’s cheating.

  I’d like to say that I’d end world hunger and create world peace and fix everything else that’s wrong in this 5 world. But I honestly wouldn’t touch any of that. I figure that if it was that easy, God would have taken care of it all a long time ago. Who knows what sort of trouble I’d stir up if I started messing with that on my first day on the job?

  So I’d stick to simpler things, like popcorn. Popcorn can’t cause too much trouble. Besides, it’s the small things in life that matter. That’s what my Norwegian teacher, Trude Fjell, says.

  My name is Malin Sande and I am fourteen years old. Last week I was given a school assignment: What would you do if you got to be God for one day?

  I failed.

  I failed because they said I didn’t take the task seriously. All the kids who said that they wanted to get rid of world hunger passed.

  I live in Haasund together with just about 5,346 other people. Unless you’re from Haasund or any of the neighbouring villages, you won’t have heard about the place.

  Haasund is a village on the south-western coast of Norway. To get to my house you go up Haugen Hill, which is right next to Hopstad Butcher’s. Then you just continue straight ahead until you reach Thorstein Street. At the end of the street there is a great big red house. It has a huge yard, with grass cut to perfection and a private hedge surrounding it. On each side of the driveway, two tall birch trees have formed an arch almost welcoming you in. It really is a magnificent house.

  I live in the house next to it. The white one with the broken garage door. It should have been painted last summer and the lawn hasn’t been mowed in a while. You’ll see it when you see it.

  My teacher gave me two days, four hours and thirty-six minutes to hand in a new paper on what I would do as God’s substitute. So I was sitting in my room with a pen and a blank sheet of paper when my dad stormed in and yelled, “Why are you not taking your schoolwork seriously?” I said that I was. And then he stormed out again. Then my mom came in and asked me why I was being rude to my dad. They’re a bit on edge these days.

  The truth is that before I stole that chocolate bar I had never really been in any trouble. I’ve always handed in my homework on time; I’ve never cut class, or smoked a cigarette or anything. It’s not so much because I’m such a good person. It’s because I’m too much of a coward to do any of those things. I worry too much about consequences. My older brother Sigve gets in trouble all the time. He cuts class and smokes cigarettes and stays out past his curfew.

  And he doesn’t care one bit about consequences. Whenever he misbehaves, my dad yells and shouts and even punches the wall and throws things across the room. And then he yells some more.

  It was a Wednesday afternoon, the day I got in trouble, and I was walking home from school. All of a sudden these girls, Frida Berg and Julie Losvik, came up behind me and asked me to wait up. They are the most popular girls in my class. They never talk to me. Frida and Julie don’t carry their books in a backpack like I do, they have them in handbags. Proper handbags, like the ones my mom has. Only my mom’s bags are a lot cheaper. The girls were both wearing puffer jackets and Sorel boots that day and they both had their hair up in French braids. Luckily one is blonde and the other a brunette, or I might not have been able to tell them apart.

  “What are you up to today?” Frida said.

  “Not much,” I said.

  Before I knew it I had walked with them over to Holberg’s shop. Frida said, “You can come to my slumber party on Saturday if you want.”

  “Really?” I had never been to a slumber party before.

  “Yes. But you have to steal something in the shop first. To show that being a part of our group really matters to you. All the other girls have done it.”

  “What do I have to steal?”

  “Anything.”

  Frida and Julie waited outside while I went into the shop. I didn’t really want to steal, but these girls had never shown any interest in me before and now I had the chance to become their friend. Besides, I didn’t want them to think that I was a coward.

  I walked up to a shelf and grabbed the first thing I saw. A Stratos chocolate bar. I don’t even like Stratos.

  I put it behind my back really quickly. Then I got nervous because I realized that I had forgotten to check if anyone was watching me. I started walking backwards towards the door and I didn’t see where I was going so I bumped into this girl. Our collision made me drop the chocolate and it also caused a bag of gummy bears to fall out from underneath her jacket. Apparently, she was on the same mission as me. Through the window I could see that Frida and Julie were already fleeing down Valen Street. And then Holberg himself came over to us with this really strict look on his face and said, “You girls better come with me.”

  “You idiot!” the girl hissed at me. The girl was Hanna Kjerag.

  We were sitting in the office in the back of the shop while Holberg called our parents. Hanna was wearing dark eye make-up and had a grey beanie hat on her head. She seemed to be mad at the world.

  She asked me why I was trying to shoplift when I was so bad at it. I told her what had happened. Hanna raised one eyebrow and said, “You’ve got worse problems than I thought.”

  She said I needed better friends. Maybe that’s why she decided to become my friend. Hanna taught me that a friend worth having is someone who doesn’t make you do anything you don’t want
to do. She is only a year above me, but she has already had her sixteenth birthday. Perhaps that is why she knows all these things.

  Hanna told me not to worry so much and to listen to my heart. My heart told me that I wanted to try and smoke a cigarette.

  If I got to be God for one day, I’d make sure that everyone had a friend like Hanna. And I wouldn’t change a thing about that day in Holberg’s shop.

  Well, perhaps I’d steal a bag of popcorn instead of the Stratos bar. I hate Stratos.

  I still wouldn’t fix world peace and end world hunger. If God Himself can’t fix it, how could I?

  2

  Lunch

  The next day the bell rang for lunch break at 11.03. It’s supposed to ring at 11.00. The bells in my school are never on time. As soon as we walked out of the classroom, all the other kids gathered together in their regular groups. The girls who carry their books in handbags are in one group. The boys who like football are in another. I don’t have a group.

  I usually spend my lunch breaks reading. After I’ve eaten.

  My mom used to pack my lunch for me. She would mostly make me a sandwich with ham and cheese or salami. Sometimes she would also put a piece of fruit or some biscuits in my lunch box. But around six months ago she began forgetting stuff like that more and more. When my mom started changing, my dad started yelling. Not at her though. At me. Or Sigve, or anyone else, really. Whenever my mom forgot to make my lunch, I would go hungry. So I started making it myself.

  My next class was science. That meant that we would be in the chemistry lab instead of our regular classroom. I decided to go and sit down outside the lab until class started. That way I could read all the way up until the bell rang. I quickly checked the time on my OTS watch. It showed 11.07.

  I have had my watch for ages. It is white and blue and has an analogue and a digital display. It is set by the world clock and automatically changes for summer and wintertime. It is also supposed to change by itself if I go to another time zone, but I have never been outside Scandinavia so I can’t know for sure.

  The cheese in my sandwich was all sweaty, except for the edges, which were hard and crispy. The sandwiches that my mom used to make were a lot better. I don’t know how she managed to keep the cheese fresh.

  After I finished my sandwich I took the book I am currently reading out of my bag. A one-volume encyclopedia. I checked it out of the library last week and it has a lot of interesting facts in it. People don’t really use encyclopedias any more, so it is an older one and a bit outdated, but I still like to read it. I opened it up at a random place like I always do.

  Black panther:

  Refers to wild cats that have a black coat due to melanism (opposite of albinism). The term “black panther” refers to black cats in three different species: jaguar, leopard and puma.

  This information wasn’t entirely correct. Melanistic pumas have never been documented and there is no proof they actually exist.

  Before I had the chance to read anything else, I heard a voice.

  “Let’s go.”

  I looked up from my book and met Hanna’s eyes. “Where are we going?” I said.

  She shrugged. “Does it matter?” And then she started walking down the hallway.

  I collected my things and hurried after her.

  We went to the toilets behind the gym where a lot of kids go to smoke. It always smells like wet metal in there. Hanna put a cigarette in her mouth and lit it up. She took a long drag and blew the smoke at the mirror. She caught me looking at her and raised one eyebrow. “Do you want one?”

  I put the cigarette in my mouth and Hanna lit it for me.

  I sucked on it and held the smoke in my mouth for a bit before blowing it out.

  Hanna said, “You have to inhale when the smoke is in your mouth. Drag it down to your lungs. Or else there is no point.”

  I tried. I coughed. I did it a couple more times. It made me feel dizzy and nauseous.

  “You don’t have to smoke the whole thing,” Hanna said. She took the cigarette from me and gently put it out on the sink, before putting it back in the box. “What did your parents say?” I asked.

  “About what?”

  “The Holberg’s thing.” Hanna shrugged. “The usual. Yours?”

  “My dad yelled.”

  “And?”

  “That’s it.”

  After I said goodbye to Hanna I walked over to the chemistry lab. It was still five minutes and forty-one seconds until the break was over. As I was about to walk into the room, a voice said, “Malin.”

  I turned around to see who it was. It was Frida. She was with Julie.

  “How’s it going?” Frida said.

  “Fine,” I said.

  “Sorry about the thing at Holberg’s shop the other day,” Frida said. “We were just joking, we didn’t think you would actually go through with it.” “Yeah, totally,” Julie agreed. I didn’t say anything.

  “So, anyway,” Frida continued, “I would love to invite you to that slumber party, but unfortunately it got cancelled.”

  I looked past her and into the classroom, where some kids were already finding their seats. I still felt sick from the cigarette.

  “But I’ve got something else in store that I think you’ll be just as excited about.” She looked at me as if she was waiting for me to say something. “Don’t you want to know what it is?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “I am arranging a school prom. It will be great. We will wear fancy dresses and have streamers hanging from the ceiling and black and silver balloons.”

  “Just like the proms in all the American TV series,” Julie said.

  “Okay,” I said. Because I didn’t know what else to say.

  “The problem is”, Frida said, “that we spoke to Principal Skogen and he told us there is no budget for a school prom because of that trip to the museum.”

  She was talking about a trip to Stavanger Museum. We were going to see an exhibition called Time, where they were displaying a lot of different clocks from different times in history. They also had a workshop where you could make your own cuckoo clock. I had been looking forward to going for weeks.

  “So anyway,” Frida said, pulling a sheet out from her bag, “I have made this petition saying that we would rather have a prom than go to the museum.” Frida tucked her perfect brown hair behind her ear and tilted her head. “I mean I think it is pretty clear that everyone would.”

  “Yeah, totally.” Julie nodded. “And if everyone signs it, they will have no choice but to let us have the prom instead.” Frida held the sheet out to me. “So will you sign it?” “No,” I said. Then the bell rang.

  In our next break, Frida came up to me again and said that I was being really selfish because everyone else was signing the petition. So if the prom didn’t happen it would be all my fault and everyone would be really mad at me. I didn’t say anything because I had to think. I don’t like people being mad at me, but I really wanted to try and make a clock.

  Then Frida said, “I can get you nominated for prom queen. Me and Julie are the ones in charge, so we make all the decisions.”

  “I don’t want to be prom queen.”

  “Don’t you want to be popular? Everyone who’s nominated for prom queen becomes popular.”

  Being popular did sound nice. Once someone let the air out of my bike tyres and I had to walk my bike all the way home. That probably wouldn’t have happened if I was popular.

  Frida smiled and handed me a pen and I rolled it back and forth in my hand for a bit. And then, just as I was about to sign my name, someone yanked the pen out of my hand. I looked up. Hanna was back.

  “She said no,” Hanna said.

  Frida took a quick look at Julie before saying, “I think she can decide that for herself, don’t you?”

  “She just di
d. She said no.”

  “And who are you?” Frida asked.

  “I’m her friend.”

  No one had ever called me their friend before.

  * * *

  Later, Hanna said, “Why were you talking to Frida anyway?”

  I shrugged. “She was the one talking to me.” “She is not your friend.” Hanna raised one eyebrow and looked at me. “She will never be your friend.”

  3

  A Shoulder to Cry On

  A couple of days later my brother Sigve shot seventy-nine people. Some in the head. Some in the chest. A few in the back. All of them were soldiers fighting for the other side.

  He doesn’t like to shoot them in the back, he says. He likes it better when they see it coming. He really enjoys these video games of his.

  My dad ran down to the basement and told Sigve that he couldn’t stay inside his entire Sunday. He told him to turn off the Xbox and go outside. He shouted, “Get some fresh air! Go meet your friends!” Sigve said that he wouldn’t.

  Then I told my dad that I was going out to meet my friend Hanna.

  My dad said, “Are you talking about the girl you met in Holberg’s shop?” “Yes.”

  “You can’t be friends with that girl!”

  “Why not?”

  “She was stealing!”

  “So was I.”

  Then he stormed upstairs, shouting that I was impossible to reason with.

  When my dad took a nap, I biked down to Naerheim Woods to meet Hanna. I found her smoking by the large oak tree, where the benches are. When she saw me she offered me a cigarette. That’s her way of saying hello. “No thanks,” I said. “I’m all right.”

  Smoking a cigarette wasn’t as exotic as I had imagined. Hanna said that she had to choose her elective courses by the next day.

  “What are you going to choose?” I asked. Hanna shrugged. “Who cares?”

  She finished her cigarette while I unsuccessfully tried to comb my hair with my fingers. My hair seems to have a life of its own. Sigve wakes up in the morning with his hair all over the place but it still looks all right. Like he made an effort to get it to look like that. Me, I comb my hair for an hour and it still looks like it got caught in a hedge cutter. I wonder who I got these brown curls from?