Chapter 1 #2
The calling of my name has my head turning toward Grigory as he waves at me from the door of the library.
I nod in acknowledgment. Shoving my notebook into my pocket once more, I stand.
I don’t want to leave right now because I think I’ve almost found the answer, but I know the library is closing in five minutes, so I have no choice.
Befriending Grigory might just have been the best choice I’ve made in a long time. Not because he offered me some saving grace out of this life. Grigory is just as out of luck as the rest of us. But he’s earned my loyalty. My trust. He’s basically my brother. Family.
It’s a bitter word. I’m not sure I know how to understand it really, but the word fits what we are right now.
I tug the collar of my jacket up to shield from the snow that’s flurrying down.
The thick flakes are nearly blinding. But even that static-like effect in front of my eyes doesn’t stop the way my thoughts zoom in my head.
Even as we duck our heads and walk through the streets, the thoughts whirl nonstop. Over and over.
I grit my teeth. It can’t be normal, can it? To have your thoughts race through your mind in a constant sprint, too fast to latch on to but there all the same. At all hours of the day. And for every thought to be a black and white image in my mind. That can’t be right, can it?
My eyes shift to Grigory who’s shielding his face. He doesn’t seem to be plagued by his thoughts the way I am. But who can tell just by looking at someone? Behind those eyes of his, there’s more than he lets on. It’s why we get on as well as we do. Similar and yet not.
“This way,” he says, jerking his head to the side as he dips down an alley.
It’s slick, and my feet shuffle on the ice patch as we stride through the alley and come upon another equally crowded street. We hustle with the bodies, moving in and out with a nimbleness only those who grew up on the streets seem to have.
We stop just outside a brownstone dusted with snow. The windows are dusty and boarded up, and a quick look between the small gaps in the wood makes it look like no one’s been home in weeks.
I arch a brow. “It looks good.” Someone who’s away from home. They’ve boarded up the windows for security, but it’ll take more than that to stop us.
I don’t say anything while he slides up to the door. I lean against the stone railing, arms crossed and on lookout. It’s a system that we don’t even need to talk about. We’ve done this so many times that it just comes automatically as we work in tandem.
The door pops open, and Grigory slips inside. I duck in beside him, swatting at the cobweb I nearly walk into.
“How’d you know about—”
“You know,” he replies.
I do know. Information doesn’t come cheap, but Grigory has a way of obtaining it. I admire that in him.
I shut the door behind me as Grigory rummages through the barren place looking for something we can steal or sell for some money. We’ve gotten really good at this. All four of us have.
“I think we can hit that deli down the street before we head back home,” he says.
I nod as he turns back to what he’s doing. And before long, we leave with a duffle bag filled with stuff. It doesn’t take us too long to sell it, pocket the cash, and get some food for everyone. A real meal.
Later, with my belly full, two blankets draped over me, and a small simmering fire roaring in the stove, I lay on the floor in the kitchen. Matvey and Nikolai have long since passed out. “Grigory?” I murmur.
“Hmm?”
I don’t even know how to ask him. But I need to say it. “When you think…about anything, do you have a lot of them? Thoughts?”
I hear him shift closer to the heat. “Sometimes.”
“Do all your thoughts come at once?”
“Not usually. You know, you think about one thing, and then your mind shifts onto another thought.”
“Oh.” I look up at the ceiling. “Grigory, do you think and dream in black and white?”
“What do you mean, Vik?”
“Like, uh, if I asked you to think of a…a train. Or you dream of a train. Is the train black and white? Or does it have a color?”
“It has a color, of course.”
I huff out a breath. So, it’s just me then. I’m the only one whose mind is full of thoughts and dreams in black and white—and thoughts that collide with each other the entire time. Which means there’s something wrong with me. And that realization sinks in deep.
“What’s going on, Viktor?”
“Nothing. Just thinking.”
“You do that a lot.” He doesn’t know half of it. “You should try and sleep.”
Silence falls between us, and eventually, I hear his breathing even out.
But I can’t fall asleep. The thought trains keep rushing and rushing. Barreling along like bullet trains. So loud. So disruptive.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I want to sleep. I need to sleep. But it’s impossible.
Especially because I think I found what I was looking for earlier in the library…
As quietly as I can, I slip from the pile of worn blankets. I carefully tread over the sleeping bodies and out the door. The cold air is biting this late at night, but it’s a welcome slap to the face I need to wake me up fully.
The library looms in front of me. I’ve been here plenty of times in the last few months. Reading up on things.
I climb the fence that leads toward the small courtyard, using the ledge to get to the second story of the library. I know for a fact there’s a broken window just a few yards in front of me. Once I reach it, it’s just a matter of maneuvering the window open and slipping in.
The rows of dusty books greet me, and it’s a familiar soothing smell. It calms some of the racing in my head. But only slightly.
Then I’m on the hunt. I go back to where I think the answer is. Medical journals.
And I wonder if it’s something curable…
From there, it’s just a matter of time. I read. I read some more. And then I read even more.
Until I find the answer. What I’ve been looking for—for so many years.
The sun is coming up. The book is open on the table, the soft light of dawn illuminating the page. Autism.
I read the word again and again.
A disorder.
That’s what the book calls it.
And everything suddenly makes sense. My aversion to touch. How I hate to look the guys in the eye for more than a split second. It’s all there on the page, in black and white. Like everything else in the world I see.
My hand drags down my face, and I sigh.
No one can know about this. Not Grigory.
Not Nikolai. Not Matvey. Not my grandmother either.
Because something wrong with me makes me a liability in our precarious life.
I need to be strong—not a defect that might bring danger to us.
The other guys can’t afford to carry deadweight. They need to believe that I’m…normal.
I close the book and shove from the table like I’ve done so many times before. Only this time, the frustration of not knowing doesn’t follow. Something else settles in its place.
At that moment, I know that I’ll keep my autism a well-guarded secret. No one will ever find out about it—because that would be dangerous.
And I won’t let someone use that against me.
Or against my makeshift family.
Instead, I’ll take my secret with me to my grave—to protect the only family I have.