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I don’t know exactly what it was about us that attracted her. Perhaps it was our closeness that gave her a safe feeling; perhaps together we formed a protective wall against everything she had grown up with. Together, we were sensitive, well read, intelligent, funny, and sporty. Peter quoted from world literature, André was the star player on his local football team, Joost could explain relativity theory or point out the constellations in the sky. You played him ten seconds of a saxophone solo and he knew who it was. David was the understanding listener who never interrupted you or brought up his own worries. But with every day that she was with us, every word that she spoke, every look, and every touch, it became clearer that this ménage à six could not last forever.

She was a year younger than us, born on 21 April 1965. The reason that she was in our class was because she had skipped a year. She was better than us in almost all subjects—perhaps Joost had a little more scientific precision, but she could sometimes amaze even him with the speed at which she got to the bottom of mathematical problems.