Deniz hates the stopwatch. It hangs on a string above the dashboard of his cousin's taxi, and it is always wrong.
德尼兹讨厌那块秒表。它用一根绳子挂在他表哥出租车的仪表盘上方，而且总是不准。
Today is the first day of the summer holiday. Deniz sits in the front seat with a bottle of juice. Emre drives the green taxi at the Market Square rank. He lets Deniz come along when there are no passengers. The rank is boring, and two people can be bored together.
今天是暑假的第一天。德尼兹坐在前座上，拿着一瓶果汁。埃姆雷开着那辆绿色出租车，停在集市广场的候客点。没有乘客的时候，他会让德尼兹跟着。候客点很无聊，两个人可以一起无聊。
"It is not wrong," Emre says for the hundredth time. "It is slow. That is different."
“它没有不准，”埃姆雷说，这已经是第一百遍了，“它只是慢。这是两回事。”
"Slow is wrong," says Deniz.
“慢就是不准，”德尼兹说。
"Slow is a style." Emre taps the glass. "A clockmaker gave me this stopwatch. She said it counts time the way a cat walks across a room. It gets there, but not in a hurry."
“慢是一种风格。”埃姆雷敲了敲表盘玻璃，“一位钟表匠把这块表送给了我。她说它走时间，就像猫穿过房间。能走到，但不着急。”
The stopwatch is round and silver, with a crack across the face. Deniz has measured it many times. For every five minutes in the real world, it counts only four. Emre has learned to add a little in his head. Deniz thinks this is a silly way to live.
秒表是圆的，银色，表面有一道裂纹。德尼兹测过它很多次。现实里每过五分钟，它只走四分钟。埃姆雷已经学会了在脑子里补上一点。德尼兹觉得这样过日子很傻。
It is eleven thirty-eight when the girl comes running across the square. She has a bag on her back and dust on her sleeves. She pulls open the back door and almost falls onto the seat.
十一点三十八分，那个女孩从广场对面跑了过来。她背着一个包，袖子上沾着灰。她拉开后车门，几乎是跌进了座位。
"The clock tower," she gasps. "Please. As fast as you can."
“钟楼，”她喘着气说，“求你了。越快越好。”
"Which clock tower?" Emre asks. "We have three."
“哪座钟楼？”埃姆雷问，“我们有三座。”
"The tall one on Hare Street. The noon bell." She holds up a brass key as long as a spoon. "I work for the clockmaker. The old key broke this morning. If this one does not reach the tower before twelve, the bell will not ring."
“野兔街上最高的那座。正午的钟。”她举起一把像汤匙一样长的黄铜钥匙。“我给钟表匠做事。旧钥匙今天早上断了。如果这把钥匙十二点前送不到塔里，钟就不会响。”
Deniz turns round. "So? A bell is only a bell."
德尼兹转过身来。“那又怎样？钟不就是个钟吗？”
The girl looks at him as if he has said something terrible. "On Hare Street, it is not only a bell. The stone hares in the square sleep until the noon bell rings. If it stays silent, they wake up and run all over the town. Last time it happened, one of them ate a flower stall."
女孩看着他，仿佛他说了什么可怕的话。“在野兔街，它可不只是个钟。广场上的石头兔子要睡到正午的钟声响起才会醒。要是钟不响，它们就会醒过来，满城乱跑。上次这样的时候，有一只把一个花摊给吃了。”
Emre raises an eyebrow. In this town, everyone knows about the hares, and nobody enjoys talking about them.
埃姆雷扬起一条眉毛。这座城里，人人都知道那些兔子，却没有人喜欢谈起它们。
"Seat belt," he says. He presses the stopwatch button with his thumb. "We have twenty-two minutes. Easy."
“系好安全带，”他说。他用拇指按下秒表的按钮。“我们有二十二分钟。小事一桩。”
The taxi pulls out of the rank.
出租车驶出了候客点。
Market day is a bad day for driving. The main road is full of delivery vans and cyclists. One very large goat walks in the middle of the street as if it owns the town. Emre drives carefully round the goat. At the first crossroads, the traffic lights freeze and stay that way for ever.
赶集日是个不适合开车的日子。主干道上全是送货的面包车和骑自行车的人。一只特别大的山羊在马路中央走着，仿佛这座城是它的。埃姆雷小心地绕过山羊。到了第一个十字路口，红绿灯冻住了，而且一直冻着不动。
Deniz watches the stopwatch. The second hand moves in a lazy circle. Seven minutes. Eight minutes. The girl in the back seat chews her thumb.
德尼兹盯着秒表。秒针懒洋洋地转着圈。七分钟。八分钟。后座的女孩咬着大拇指。
"We are doing well," Emre says. "Stopwatch says nine minutes, so we have thirteen left."
“我们做得不错，”埃姆雷说，“秒表上是九分钟，所以我们还剩十三分钟。”
Deniz looks out of the window. Over the roofs, he can see the face of the town hall clock. It shows eleven forty-nine.
德尼兹望向窗外。越过屋顶，他能看见市政厅大钟的钟面。上面显示十一点四十九分。
He does the sum in his head, and his stomach drops.
他在脑子里算了一下，心一下子沉了下去。
"Emre. The stopwatch is slow, remember? You started it at eleven thirty-eight. The town clock says eleven forty-nine. That is eleven real minutes, not nine."
“埃姆雷。秒表是慢的，你还记得吗？你是十一点三十八分按的。市政厅的钟显示十一点四十九分。那是真正的十一分钟，不是九分钟。”
"I add a little in my head," Emre says.
“我在脑子里补一点的，”埃姆雷说。
"Do you? Because you just said thirteen left. It is eleven." Deniz points at the girl. "Eleven minutes, and the road ahead is full of vans."
“是吗？你刚才说还剩十三分钟。实际是十一分钟。”德尼兹指了指女孩。“十一分钟，而前面的路上全是面包车。”
Emre goes quiet. A van in front of them blows its horn for no reason. The girl closes her eyes.
埃姆雷不说话了。前面一辆面包车无缘无故地按起了喇叭。女孩闭上了眼睛。
"Can we go another way?" she asks.
“我们能走别的路吗？”她问。
"There is no other way," Emre says. "The old bridge is closed. The ring road takes twenty minutes."
“没有别的路，”埃姆雷说，“老桥封了。绕环城路要二十分钟。”
Deniz stares at the roofs. He knows this part of town better than anyone in the car. He has walked it every morning for four years, with a heavy school bag. Behind the tower, there is a long wall. Behind the wall is a football pitch. And at the other end of the pitch is a gate that nobody locks on Saturdays.
德尼兹盯着屋顶。这一带他比车里任何人都熟。四年来，他每天早上都背着沉重的书包走这条路。钟楼后面有一堵长墙，墙后面是一块足球场，球场的另一头有一扇门，星期六没有人锁。
"My school," he says suddenly. "It is behind the tower. The back gate opens onto Hare Street."
“我的学校，”他忽然说，“它就在钟楼后面。后门开出去就是野兔街。”
"A taxi cannot drive through a school," Emre says.
“出租车不能从学校里穿过去，”埃姆雷说。
"It is a football pitch. There is a service road next to it. I have seen a delivery van on it." Deniz twists in his seat. "It is not a road for cars, but it is a road."
“那是足球场。旁边有一条服务通道。我见过送货的面包车从上面开过。”德尼兹在座位上扭过身子。“那不是给轿车走的路，但它是一条路。”
"The gate will be closed."
“门会关着的。”
"The side gate has a code. It is 1-9-5-0. Everyone knows it. The football team uses it."
“侧门有密码。是1950。人人都知道。足球队就用这个。”
Emre looks at the clock on the dashboard. He looks at the girl in his mirror. She nods hard, with wet eyes.
埃姆雷看了看仪表盘上的时钟。又看了看后视镜里的女孩。她使劲点着头，眼里含着泪。
"If a teacher shouts at us," he says, "I will say that you told me to."
“要是有老师冲我们喊，”他说，“我就说是你让我这么干的。”
"That is fine," says Deniz.
“行，”德尼兹说。
Emre turns the wheel hard and goes down a narrow side street. It is the kind of street that has bins on both sides and a sleeping cat. The taxi scrapes past a wall with a hiss of paint. Deniz holds the door handle with both hands.
埃姆雷猛打方向盘，拐进一条窄窄的小街。那种街两边都是垃圾桶，还有一只睡觉的猫。出租车擦着一堵墙过去，蹭得漆面嘶嘶响。德尼兹两手紧紧抓着车门把手。
The school gate appears at the end, tall and grey. Deniz jumps out before the taxi has fully stopped and presses the numbers. The lock clicks. He pulls the gate wide open, and the taxi rolls through.
学校的大门出现在街的尽头，又高又灰。出租车还没完全停稳，德尼兹就跳了下去，按下那几个数字。锁咔嗒一声开了。他把大门拉开，出租车缓缓开了进去。
The service road is narrow, with grass in the middle and a sign that says NO VEHICLES. Emre drives past the sign very slowly, as if it cannot see him. On the left, the football pitch shines in the sun. On the right, a row of bicycles leans on a fence.
服务通道很窄，中间长着草，立着一块牌子，上面写着“禁止车辆通行”。埃姆雷慢慢地从牌子旁边开过去，好像牌子看不见他。左边，足球场在阳光下闪着光。右边，一排自行车靠在围栏上。
"Eleven fifty-six," Deniz reads from his phone. "Four minutes."
“十一点五十六分，”德尼兹从手机上读出来，“还有四分钟。”
At the end of the pitch the road bends round a wall. Then the tower rises above them. It is old and brown, with a white clock face and a small door at the base. Emre brakes hard on the loose stones. The girl is out of the car before the engine stops.
球场尽头，路绕着一堵墙拐了个弯。接着钟楼出现在他们头顶上方。它又老又黑褐，有一个白色的钟面，底部有一扇小门。埃姆雷在松散的石子上猛踩刹车。引擎还没停，女孩已经下了车。
"Thank you!" she shouts. She runs up the back steps two at a time, with the brass key held high.
“谢谢你们！”她喊道。她两级一跨地跑上后面的台阶，高高举着那把黄铜钥匙。
Deniz and Emre stand next to the taxi. In the square at the front of the tower, the stone hares sit on their benches. Their ears are up and their eyes are closed. Nothing moves. Somewhere inside the tower, a lock turns with a heavy clunk.
德尼兹和埃姆雷站在出租车旁边。钟楼前的广场上，石头兔子坐在它们的长椅上，耳朵竖着，眼睛闭着。什么也没有动。塔里某个地方，一把锁沉重地咔哒一声转开了。
Emre looks at the silver stopwatch on its string. Its hands show sixteen minutes, and the glass is still cracked.
埃姆雷看了看绳子上挂着的银色秒表。它的指针显示十六分钟，玻璃上的裂纹还在。
"I will never trust that thing again," he says.
“我再也不会相信这玩意儿了，”他说。
"You said that last year," Deniz says.
“你去年也这么说过，”德尼兹说。
The big clock on the tower face clicks on to twelve. For one long second everything is still. Then, above their heads, the great bronze bell swings once.
塔楼钟面上的大钟咔的一声跳到了十二点。有那么漫长的一秒钟，一切都静止了。然后，在他们头顶上方，巨大的青铜钟摆动了一下。
Dong.
咚。
