She had woken up that morning wondering if he would. She hoped he would; it had been a while since he had tried his luck and she felt sorry for having turned her head away.After breakfast, she caught the ferry to the Longpier and climbed Torggata to the top of the town. The racing had already started when she arrived at the depot. Two mopeds zipped along the car park in the shadow of the empty Kristiansand coach, stirring up clouds of dirt in their wake. Else recognised the yellow paint of Lars’s bike, sleek and shiny next to its rival. She strolled to the mobile kitchen at the edge of the lot, where a group of boys hollered at the racers and stuffed their gums with chewing tobacco.‘Hi, Else,’ called Petter.‘Back for more?’ Rune said.Else folded her arms over her chest and nodded at the bikes. ‘Who’s he racing?’‘Right now, it’s Joachim,’ Petter said.‘Who’s winning?’‘Lars,’ he said. He sounded disappointed. ‘I’ll be racing him next.’The boys whooped and clapped when Lars crossed the finishing line.
