The clock tower at Primary School 3 looked like a huge thermos - silver, scratched by time, with a small balcony that no one was supposedly allowed to climb. Lila stood under its brick plinth and clenched her hands in her jacket sleeves until her knuckles turned white. A moment ago she had shouted so loudly in her mind that she felt like the whole courtyard could hear. She was shouting at Tymek, who had knocked her into her seat at the Talent Day with his flawless performance, which had put a thorn in her proudly silent courage. And her? She didn't even go on stage. The air smelled of cooker smoke and autumn mud. Gravel crunched under Lila's boots as she moved towards a small door in the wall, almost invisible behind a currant bush. They weren't supposed to be there - at least that's what every pupil claimed - but the porter, Mr Pietrzyk, sometimes left them ajar to get to the boiler room faster. Lila slipped inside before she had time to think. The stairs climbed steeply, it smelled of old tar and grease and the walls were rough as a cat's tongue. With each step, the cold and silence stole her anger and left her with something heavier in return: shame that squeezed her throat like a tight scarf. She could have sung after all, even quietly. She could have not run away. On the platforms stood buckets, coils of cables and boxes of labels whose ink had long since run off. On one of them it still read: "Showcases - school achievements". Lila smiled crookedly. Achievements. On another floor she passed a window, behind which the pitch looked like a grid board. The 6b girls were practising the long jump. An evil shudder ran down her spine at the thought that the clock mechanism would soon be rumbling from above and Mr Pietrzyk would discover the intruder. Instead of pondering - another door handle. This time the door gave way hard, as if no one had moved it for a long time. Lila entered the circular room under the clock itself. Light streamed in through four narrow windows, and dust flew like silvery flies. In the middle stood a table, and on it - an instrument she had only seen in books about ancient inventors. It was a box made of dark wood, and on top of it was a glass dome resembling a breathing bladder, metal dials with needles like in an old clock, and a single brass wheel that begged to be turned. In the corner shone a small trumpet speaker, like on a gramophone. Above it all on a brass plate was engraved: "Heart Barometer - Register 7: Feeling and Sleep Workshop". Lila's heart did a flip. A barometer? Of the heart? It sounded ridiculous and wonderful at the same time. She touched the tile. It was cool, like a cold morning. Next to it lay a notebook in a stained hard cover. She opened it carefully, so that it wouldn't fall apart in her hands. "Operating instructions (abbreviated): 1) Sit down. Breathe calmly. Touch the sensor (brass ring on the right). 2) Do not pretend. The instrument registers fluctuations and colours of feelings. 3) If it makes a noise, don't panic. This is normal. 4) Leave the records inside. They help the next one." Lila parried with a half-smile, half-whisper. They help the next... She snuggled her shoulders into herself. What could have helped her? That it had cost her courage to come to the Talent Day at all? That when Tymek smiled after his performance, something turned into an ice cube in her stomach? She sat down on a creaky chair. The brass ring on the edge of the chest flashed invitingly. She touched it with two fingers. At first, nothing. Then the glass dome fogged up from the inside like an eyepiece after coming from frost to heat. One of the dials vibrated. The needle moved from "Calm" to "Anger", stopped at "Grief", moved back to "Uncertainty" and finally came to a stop on a word Lila had not expected to see: "Longing". Longing? After all, she hadn't lost anything... or had she? The image popped in her head like a bubble: her mum with a mug of coffee in her hand, hurriedly disappearing behind the door; evenings with silence instead of the piano, since Nina had gone to a music high school in another town; Tymek, who has been talking to Ola more often lately because she "likes the same games". Lila swallowed her saliva. Instead of anger, a sadness moved under her ribs, warm, uncomfortable. Under the dome, a streak of colour appeared - at first blue, then changing to blue with a hint of green. The speaker rustled quietly, as if someone had moved a feather across it. The barometer grunted. Lila laughed nervously. "Don't panic. It's normal." - Okay, Heart Barometer," she whispered. - If you can really hear, I can try... to tell the truth. So she told the story in half-voice, to the dome and to the dust flies, about how she'd snickered in the bathroom yesterday because Tymek wouldn't write back, and then she'd seen him in the shop with Ola laughing. About her fear that when she goes on stage, her voice will betray her. About how she sometimes feels like it's like a city inside in November: full of lights, yet chilly. With every word, the blue under the dome brightened and blended with the yellow threads. The needle trembled between "Fear" and "Curiosity". Lila felt her breath return to its place. Under the table, something clicked quietly. A narrow drawer slid out from the side of the box. Inside lay a pencil and a piece of paper on which someone had long ago written in cursive: "Write one sentence that you dare not say aloud. Then put it inside." Lila raised her eyebrows. Her heart beat faster. The pencil left a soft, dark mark on the paper. She wrote: "I'm afraid that if you dance in a duet with Ola, there won't be room for me anymore." For a moment she stared at the words as if they were in someone else's hand. Then she bent the note and slipped it into the drawer. The drawer closed by itself. The speaker made a sound reminiscent of cats purring as the sun hit their favourite windowsill. The needle jumped to 'Relief' and then calmly returned to the area of 'Curiosity'. - 'It works,' whispered Lila, and she felt a pinprick of delight in her stomach. - It really does work. At that moment, a metallic clatter came from below - someone had entered the tower. The stairs responded with a groan. Lila went numb. Mr Pietrzyk? Or perhaps the coach? She had no turning back now. She glanced nervously at the door. Then at the Barometer again. The needle began to tremble faster, as if it sensed her panic. The dome dimmed. - Shh... - Lila put her finger to the dome, as if she was silencing a friend. - Just a moment more. A tap-tap. Someone stopped on the mezzanine floor. The handle of another door squeaked, voices hovered for a moment, then fell silent. Lila took a breath like a swimmer after jumping out of the water. As the first sparks of fear subsided, she noticed something she hadn't noticed before: a lock shaped like a half-hearted symbol in the lower part of the chest may have been in place. Right next to it, under a layer of dust, was the word "Memories". And on the top someone had scratched with a thin nail: "Do not open in a hurry." Naturally, she wanted to open it straight away. And just as naturally - something stopped her, like an invisible hand holding the hood. Someone else had left their records. Someone else's 'unsaid'. She shivered at the thought that she might read it. It felt like stepping into someone's pocket without knocking. - 'All right,' she said in a whisper. - 'Me first, I'm not going to rummage through someone else's. She opened the notebook to the next page. The ink had gone grey, but it was possible to read the sentences, short and long, written in different characters: "I was afraid I would never stop being afraid." "Jealousy is a hot, dirty word." "When I play, I stop thinking." "When I stop thinking, I start feeling." Under the last entry, the space was empty. Lila bit her lip until she tasted blood. Then she wrote: "When I speak out loud, my voice sounds like my own, not someone else's." The barometer buzzed like a bee. One by one, the dials softly tapped their stops until finally the needle stopped on the word "Courage". The dome filled with a light so soft that she felt like sticking her hands out as if to fire. - Lila? - rang out suddenly. Her name did not come from the stairs. Nor did it have the weight of an adult step. It flowed from the loudspeaker, short, soft, like a drop falling into a bowl of milk. - Lila, can you hear me? - repeated the voice, a little clearer, a tad hoarse, as if it had been pulled out of an old summer. The girl sprang from her chair so violently that she knocked over her pencil. Her palms sweated instantly. For a second she was sure it was Timothy playing a prank. For the next - that she had developed a fever and was delirious. For a third - that if she didn't answer, something important would pass her like a bus right in front of her nose. - Who's there? - she whispered, too quietly to sound brave. - Who is calling me? The speaker whined, coughed up dust and grunted uncertainly. - It's... - The voice broke off and in that pause Lila heard other sounds: the flutter of pigeons under the roof, the ticking of the big clock just above her head, and the distant, high-pitched "ha!" of someone who had just made up a joke. - I'm not sure if you remember. But I do remember you. And how scared you were. The needle from 'Courage' retreated with a quick zigzag to 'Surprise'. The dome dimmed and then flashed two colours at once - a dim purple and a warm orange. Lila felt her heart pounding all the way through her fingers. - I... how do you know me? - she asked the question that was bubbling up inside her, and she immediately blushed mightily, as if someone had just looked inside her. Another thud came from downstairs. This time a distinct one. Someone had set foot heavily on the first step and was moving upwards. There was no hurry in this step, but there was intent. Lila looked at the door, then at the Barometer, which buzzed quietly, as if it was suddenly getting too hot. - 'If you open the bottom lock,' said a voice from the loudspeaker, already almost a whisper, 'you'll see what you need to see. But only do it if you really want to. The 'Memories' lock flashed like a wink. Lila fumbled in her pocket for the key she didn't have after all... and yet she felt something hard under her fingers. She pulled out a small brass object - a half-cheese with teeth. It must have slipped out of the drawer when she closed it. How could she not have noticed it? The stairs groaned. Someone was halfway up. Lila had the feeling that the whole room held its breath along with her. She looked at the key, at the lock, at the ajar door and at the loudspeaker, from which came a quiet, feverish whisper: - Decide. Now. Lila's fingers trembled. She slid the key into the lock. The teeth startled. Something inside the box moved like a dormant animal. And just then, a distinct, disturbingly close step sounded on the stairs, just beyond the threshold.