The Exception by Christian Jungersen

and Gunnar.
    Iben is actually on top form today. Normally Malene is glad to have her back in the office – the atmosphere was much duller while she was away in Kenya. At first Malene had worried abouther brainy friend coming to work at the Centre. For one thing, with only five colleagues, it could have been slightly claustrophobic. Also, supporting Iben’s job application could have ruined the friendship Malene had come to depend on so much.
    The first things she had noticed about Iben when they met were her clear blue eyes and the sharp little crease between her eyebrows. In those days Iben’s skin was paler and her manner more earnest. Still, it was easy to make her laugh, dissolving into the bubbling loud giggle that made her look so charming. Afterwards she would compose herself quickly, ready to debate any issue seriously.
    But Iben is also a perfectionist. Everything has to be well thought out, executed to perfection, one hundred per cent. Anything less seems worthless to her. Apparently Iben needed therapy for panic attacks after her father’s death. Malene didn’t know her then, but it’s always been obvious to her that Iben is fragile.
    Probably no one but Malene knows that Iben can’t stand having her head and body under water at the same time. Iben keeps her head dry when washing her body and remains fully dressed when she washes her hair. That has to be a symptom of something or other.
    They were all astonished to learn how Iben behaved during the hostage business. She would have wanted to do ‘the right thing’ of course, but to act so dramatically – well, that was unexpected. She said herself that she had been ‘someone else’ in Kenya. That’s why Fredrik called her ‘Batgirl’. He must have thought it was flattering to suggest that she had a secret identity. But he had enough sensitivity to see how much Iben detested the idea and stopped his joking at once.
    Two years ago, for all her doubts, Malene had felt she had to support Iben for the DCGI post. All the students of literature had hoped to land jobs as editors or book reviewers or journalists writing on the arts. Instead, and regardless of how brilliant they were, they received at best low-paid freelance commissions,supporting themselves with unemployment benefits. Decent public jobs were few and far between. As Iben scouted around, her lack of office experience turned out to be a major drawback. She would come back from the employment offices with gruesome tales of graduates who had been in the system for years. They were game for anything, but would-be employers labelled them as ‘overqualified’.
    ‘You can spot them at once. Ten seconds is enough. These guys are broken and no sensible boss would dream of employing them. And they know it too.’
    When the post as DCGI information officer was advertised, Iben didn’t go for it. She didn’t even mention it. Instead she applied for every other job with a whiff of desperation.
    Malene knew the risks when she phoned Iben and urged her to apply. ‘When we receive your application, I’ll tell everyone how talented you are and what a hard worker you are. And I’ll tell them how much I look forward to the pleasure of working with you.’
    ‘Come on, they won’t go for your best friend.’
    ‘I won’t tell them that. I’ll say that we were students together and that I got to know you when we lived in the same dorm. And that I remember you were fantastically efficient and reliable. That’s only the truth.’
    ‘We’re not letting on that we’re close friends, then?’
    ‘Well, no – not close friends. But “friendly”.’
    ‘I still won’t get the job. Thousands of more experienced people will go for it.’
    ‘I’ll brief you on exactly what you should say to the different board members in the final interview. That’ll help.’
    Silence.
    ‘Iben! It’s a job. It’s the job of your dreams!’
    By lunchtime Paul still hasn’t come back. Iben, Malene, Camilla and Anne-Lise