The Journey to the End of the World (Joel Gustafson Stories) Read Online Free PDF

disturbed. Joel almost bumped into a girl as she came out of a compartment. She was about his own age. Joel could feel to his annoyance that he was blushing. He didn’t want to do that. He soon returned to his compartment and found Samuel sitting up and waiting for him. They had packed enough food to last them all the way to Stockholm. Joel felt hungry. He hadn’t been able to eat much earlier in the day as he’d been so nervous. He’d imagined all kinds of things happening that would cause the journey to be cancelled. Samuel changing his mind, for instance. The train failing to appear. Him falling ill. He knew that was childish. Not something a fifteen-year-old ought to be imagining. But he couldn’t help being childish.
    That’s the way he was.
    ‘Shouldn’t we have something to eat?’ he asked.
    ‘Already?’
    ‘I’m hungry.’
    Samuel opened the bag of food. It contained sandwiches, hard boiled eggs and boiled potatoes. He also had the thermos flask with coffee and a bottle of milk. Joel ate. But Samuel wasn’t hungry. The tree trunks hurtled past outside. The wheels sang over the little gaps in the rails.
    Later on, when Samuel had fallen asleep with his head pillowed on his suitcase, it occurred to Joel that a journey can be boring and exciting at the same time. There seemed to be no end to the trees flashing past the window. That was boring. Like a film in which nothing happens. Nevertheless, Joel couldn’t tear himself away from the window. Sometimes there was a glittering reflection from a lake. An occasional house. What was really exciting was that for every minute that passed, for every little gap in the rails the train sang over, he was further and further away from the town he’d grown up in. Doing this had always been his dream.
    They were only going as far as Stockholm. Even so, that was a bit of the way to the end of the world.
    Which existed even if it didn’t exist.
    The conductor passed by in the corridor. That was a job Joel had on his list, becoming a train conductor. But he’d crossed it out. It could never match up to being a sailor. Railway lines and a sea channel marked out by flashing buoys could never be the same thing.
    Joel carefully fished Samuel’s watch out of his coat pocket. Midnight already. He put it back and stretched out on the seat. He had his feet towards the window so that he could still see out.
    The tree trunks streaked past.
    He tried to imagine what would happen when he and Samuel met Mummy Jenny. Would she shake Samuel’s hand?
    And what would she do to Joel? Give him a hug? Or shake him by the hand as well?
    Joel sat up. It was Elinor who had written the letter to Samuel. Not Mummy Jenny herself. Why hadn’t she written? Perhaps she didn’t want to meet them at all? Maybe the man she was married to would be angry? Perhaps there was some law or other that’s aid it was forbidden for him and Samuel to visit her without announcing themselves in advance? Joel was sure that Samuel didn’t know much about the law. And what did he know himself? Nothing at all.
    Joel looked at Samuel. Grown-ups were strange. How could Samuel sleep so peacefully? He must be just as nervous as Joel. But he was asleep. Fast asleep, with his hands clasped on his chest.
    Or was he lying there and saying a prayer?
    Dear God, please make Jenny glad to see me again. And Joel. Amen.
    Joel sat down by the window once more. The train was shuddering its way round a long bend. He could just make out a lake behind the trees. His face was reflected in the window. His hair was short. Almost a crew cut. But the quiff immediately above his forehead made that part of his hair stand on end. It always did that. No matter how much water he used in an attempt to make it lie down.
    Maybe Mummy Jenny would think he was ugly?
    I know nothing, Joel thought. That’s the worst thing of all. Not knowing anything.
    He lay down on the seat again. The train was shaking and lurching. He tried to count the gaps