Marja didn't want anyone to care about her. At first she hadn't even noticed. But then she had noticed time and again that her parents' eyes wandered inconspicuously towards her when she grabbed Kirka's block again to read a little, but no one had said anything.

Only once, when she sat alone again on the bench in front of the library and thought about where Kirka could be now, where she had actually come from, whether she would come back. "You're pale as death!", Mrs. Schröder's shrill voice had startled her from her thoughts. She had stepped out of the house on purpose, and now had demonstratively built herself up in front of Marja.

Marja just shrugged her shoulders. "The sun rarely shines. What do you want me to do? Paint me brown, like that horrible tenth grade chick who thinks she has to be orange all year round?" Marja snorted contemptuously and then turned back to the path in front of her, staring at the blades of grass as if she was listening to her stories spellbound, but that was not possible. People do not understand these stories.

"Yes, terrible, indeed," confirmed Mrs. Schröder Marjas feeling, but quickly returned to her actual (self-imposed) mission. "But that's certainly no reason to be so deadly pale. Do you know how long it's been since you lent a book? No? Well, it'll be a week. Since this... Kirka disappeared, and ever since then you've been reading in her writing pad or just staring apathetically at the neighborhood."

She pronounced Kirka's name as if it was the most disgusting thing in the world to put it in her mouth, but she couldn't help it. Kirka had disappeared without another word, but perhaps there was a reason for this, even if Marja did not want to admit it to herself.

Thoughtfully she stroked a strand of hair from her face and pinched it behind her ear to keep it from disturbing her. "Do you think it's better that way?" she now turned to Mrs. Schröder, hesitantly and with a voice as thin as dental floss. "I mean Kirka's gone. It's not as if I miss her very much - though, I do miss her and her stories. But most of all, I'm afraid. She knew something, something she couldn't tell me, and the next day she was just gone. Do you think that's possible? Is that a coincidence? What if she's been kidnapped? Or -" She wanted to say it, but her tongue simply refused to obey that order. The words stuck in her throat, she couldn't have even sobbed. Mrs. Schröder understood it anyway, and her anger on Kirka vanished.

"Don't you think that!" Shocked, she grabbed the left part of her chest where the heart was.

If her heart ever abandons Mrs. Schröder (and she knew that would happen some time) Marja thought, then I will cry. Cry so hard. And even if I stop doing that, I won't be the same after this. She once said that to her father, to Kristopher, and he looked very speechless for a moment. Then he laughed in disbelief. "The... that was schmaltzy, Marja," he had claimed and still nodded appreciatively, even though Marja was annoyed by this reaction. But that's exactly how it was - Marja was always pondering about these things when she was sad. She would weep for Mrs. Schröder, Luke, her parents of course, and Freddie (probably one more tear, but only one more).

Marja's heart was confused at any rate. Burdens rested on it, beside the difficult work situation of her mother, now also because of Kirka - especially because of Kirka. No one had ever won a place in Marja's heart so quickly and then simply disappeared, just like that. But something she had left here. Her writing pad, Marja knew that, but it keeps telling the same stories and unfortunately not where Kirka had gone and why she had gone.

Mrs. Schröder pondered, looked for the right words to cheer Marja up, but she did not find them. "Perhaps...", she started and also sat down clumsily on the bench, " her parents are jugglers? Wandering minstrels or commuters? Can you tell? Maybe Kirka had to leave this island again and was only allowed to see it for a short time. You shouldn't envy children like that. They live a hard life."

"What would jugglers want here? There's no fair or carnival here right now, and there never is. Besides, word would have spread if people like that had been around, wouldn't it? This island is small and people like to talk, daddy told me that often enough," Marja explained sadly. She didn't want to sound so sad, but if her heart didn't get over this confusion, then the grief would spread in her. Because Kirka was gone. Just gone, as if she never existed.

Again Mrs. Schröder couldn't think of anything more to say. Helplessly she looked at Marja, who sat there gloomy, with her back crooked and her eyes on the ground, like a potato bag that someone had put down but never picked up again. Not that the bag would then be sad by itself, Marja thought to her idea of her own posture, but surely it would collapse at some point. Just like that, affected by wind and weather. Objects do not have feelings.

At some point Mrs. Schröder simply waved derogatory in Marja's direction, as if to show that she was unable to do anything more for this stupid, stubborn child, but actually she only wanted to suggest that Marja should finally put aside her grief, as if it was a book, a terrible book, which fascinated her so much that she could not let it go.

"Now, come on in. You want some chocolate? "My God, you've been sitting there staring into space for an hour, you'll catch your death, you careless child!" When Mrs Schröder said that, her smoky voice sounded so harsh that Marja collided involuntarily, but she knew she didn't mean it. Slowly, Marja battled her way up and rubbed her fingers together, which were numb with cold, although she wore her dark blue gloves.

It had snowed indeed, a thin, brittle layer of snow lay on the ground like icing sugar on a pancake, and now, as Marja gratefully entered the library, in which a pleasant warmth was blowing towards her, tender, dancing flakes fell again from the sky, jumping around, whirling around and tenderly landing on the ground, joining their brothers and sisters.

While she waited for the chocolate that Mrs. Schröder prepared for her, Marja looked out the window and watched them, simply watched as they danced and whirled, as if the world would only consist of this lightness. If only I were like them, Marja thought almost wistfully, but quickly threw that thought aside. A snowflake had a short, though fulfilled, life. When it fell from the sky, it could jump and dance as exuberantly as it wanted on the way down, but as soon as it had arrived below, it fell asleep, lay down on the plants and stones to rest and would not wake up any more. Never again.

"You know, Marja," said Mrs. Schröder contemplatively, as she came out of the kitchen (the library was also her home) with a steaming cup in her hand, "there are so many wonderful friendships in the world. You hear it every day in the news, of unbelievable sacrifices, solidarity and great heroic deeds. But that's incredibly rare, the few cases are on the news."

Marja frowned and looked Mrs. Schröder concentrated in her round face, waiting to know what the librarian was getting at. She just cleared her throat and took a sip of the cappuccino she had prepared herself. Maybe she had changed her mind, maybe she found her proposal, which she intended to make, silly after all, or had not even intended to make one.

At least Marja thought so, but she was taught better when Mrs. Schröder leaned forward to her so that she could understand what she was proposing to her with a lowered voice: "I don't think it's really necessary, but you might want to ask old Hansen if there were jugglers on the island. Besides, I'm sure he has a list of vacationers. Something like that."

Marja swallowed her cocoa and coughed until tears clouded her vision. "To the police?", she repeated in astonishment, whereupon Mrs. Schröder, embarrassed, adjusted her round reading glasses and cleared her throat again. She didn't seem to feel comfortable at all in her skin, and chose every further word carefully, as if she feared to give Marja any ideas if she wasn't careful.

"As I said, I'm sure that's not necessary. It's a long shot, but It may have struck someone besides you that a child just disappears, with no further ado! And who knows, maybe she didn't disappear without another word?"

Along with one more draught of chocolate, Marja swallowed a reply and thought. She was certain, however. Shaking her head, she placed her cup back on the shaky kitchen table with a checkered tablecloth. It was hardly big enough for one person, and much too low for the wooden chairs.

"But Freddie always says, 'Old Hansen isn't worth a damn even if he ain't drunk! "You might as well ring your neighbor's bell and tell him about your grocery shopping." I don't think he can get Kirka back here.

Mrs. Schröder snorted at it angrily. "Frederik! What does that boy keep telling you? Don't let this fish head spoil you," she shouted, while Marja looked silently at the liquid in her grey-blue tea cup. Mrs. Schröder and Freddie were not the best friends, to put it that way. Marja thought it was a shame to have to listen to them badmouthing each other.

Sighing, Mrs. Schröder leaned back on her chair, which creaked under her weight. She had her hands folded, as always when she thought about something. "If you prefer," she hesitantly suggested, and her gaze wandered towards the door as if she wanted to make sure that no one stood in front of it and listened. Then she continued in a low voice: "you may also go to the police station on the mainland. They're definitely experts in their field, believe me!"

Perhaps the word expert was a little exaggerated, but she was right. The police officers on the mainland were to be trusted. The only question was how Marja would get there now. For a brief moment she had the absurd thought of whether it was possible to swim the five kilometres? But that would probably also be an act of desperation, as it would have been suicide even in the summer.

Then, however, she had a thought - a damn good thought. And her face brightened so visibly that Mrs. Schröder also smiled contentedly.

"Thank you, Mrs. Schröder," Marja said and jumped up so abruptly that her chair slipped backwards with an unpleasant noise. "Thank you for your help - and for the chocolate!" And off she went.