Chapter 2
TWO
age 8
The tall, grey building was as cold and weathered as the sheeted ice surrounding me. I gripped the canvas bag to my chest, my fingers digging into the soft, worn material as the harsh wind blew my hair in my face.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see the playground. It was old and dirty, the blue and red paint faded under the harsh Russian weather. It was probably built in the seventies. And there was only one swing left. It’s not like I could play there with a friend.
"Hey!" A girls voice called out in Russian, over the squeaking, creaking of the swing.
I set my eyes on the front doors. Don't look over there. Don't look over there.
"Hey!" The voice repeated, “I know you."
Don't look.
I couldn't help myself. My heart fluttered as my eyes glanced over, the sight of red ribbons fluttering in the air as the girl pumped her legs.
It was her. Alina: the girl in my class.
She had shiny red hair and blue eyes as bright as the sky. She always wore the same pink dress and grey rain boots. Her freckles seemed to dance across her cheeks as she laughed.
And she was always laughing, even though she was just as skinny as me.
At my glance, her feet dug into the snow, stopping the momentum of her next swing. Then she practically flung herself out of it before waltzing over to me. "Did you hear me?" She tilted her head, a puzzled expression to her face. "I said I know you."
"Yeah," I stared at the ground. She probably hates you and just wants to tell you you're ugly. "You're in my class."
"That's it!"
I had the courage to look up, and her bright smile blazed at me. “Whatcha doing?”
“Nothing.” I gripped the bag to my chest harder and the smell of stale bread and green apples filled my nose. At the small movement, she looked down and I scrambled. “I mean, I just got back from the supermarket.”
Her eyes had frozen on it, and I could feel myself squishing the bread.
I'd been lucky.
Petrov, the clerk who stocked the shelves was going through it and getting rid of the molding bread. He sold it to me for half.
Alina’s smile was frozen on her face. She was still staring at me expectantly, her throat bobbing. I shifted uncomfortably, and finally, she looked up. “Wanna come swing with me?"
“There’s only one swing.”
Her shoulder came up, and she looked away, staring across the street at another apartment building. It was grey and stark, exactly like ours. “That’s okay.” Another smile broke out on her face, the freckles on her cheeks dancing. “I know! I can push you.”
She just wants to see if you’ll do it. Then she’ll run off and leave you there by yourself. I scowled, my teeth scraping over the freckle by my lip. “I’m not supposed to have friends.”
“You’re not?” Her eyes widened, and her finger twirled over the red ribbon in her hair. “Why not?”
I scrunched up my shoulders. “I don’t know.” Was that weird? I suddenly felt like an outcast. “How many friends do you have, anyways?”
“I don’t know! Maybe five? But they don’t live here.” Her eyes grew bigger and brighter. “Maybe you can ask your mama if we can be friends.”
“Maybe…” I looked away, staring at that empty swing, which was still swaying back and forth. “But I don’t think she’ll let me.”
"Tatiana!" The shrill voice of my mother made my shoulders haunch to my ears.
"Yes, mama?" I looked up, all the way up to the fifth floor, where her head was looming out over the porch.
"What are you doing? Come make breakfast.” She was frowning, and her hair was a dark brown mop of loose curls, sticking out every which way. She was still wearing her bathrobe, and you could see that she hadn’t tied it very well.
My face burned red at the sight of her.
“Your mama hasn’t made breakfast yet?” Alina looked astonished.
“Of course!” I tried to play it off, the blush on my cheeks spreading down my chest. My embarrassment was making my fingers tingle. “She just wants to teach me how to do it.”
“Oh.” Once again, Alina’s eyes strayed to the bread.
The sound of a door slamming reminded me that I was supposed to be cooking breakfast and I turned to rush towards the doors. “Bye!”
“See you in class.” Alina called at me, laughing. “Maybe we can be friends there!”
I didn’t answer her, but hurried up the stairs, careful not to slip on the ice. The metal doorknob was cold to my already numb fingers and I pulled the door open.
But I didn’t go inside. I froze, shifting my feet, trying to keep the bag balanced and hold the heavy door open at the same time.
Suddenly making a decision, I swiveled and carefully trudged down the stairs.
Alina was still standing in the same spot, staring at me. “What’s wrong?”
“Here.” I was out of breath, I was so nervous. I put down the bag and carefully untied the loaf of bread, picking out two pieces from a spot where it might not be noticed. When I held it to her, her eyes grew as big as saucers.
“For me?”
I nodded. “Sure. Why not?”
“But what about?—“
I shoved it into her hands. “Just take it, kay?”
“Thank you!” She shoved a big bite into her mouth before she was even done with the words.
I watched her eat it, my own stomach rumbling, once more wishing the rest of the food was for me. When I was beginning to regret not taking a bite first, I grabbed the bag, ready to run away when she stopped me.
“Here,” her fingers squeezed something into my hand. “You can have these.”
I looked down at my fists, and the edges of her red ribbons were sticking out. “But these are?—“
“Just take it!”
I laughed, the sound strange to my own ears, and her bright smile was back. She leaned in, whispering. “And I bet we can be secret friends. Your mama doesn’t have to know.”
Unexpectedly, there was a knot in my throat and my whole body felt warm. I’d never had a friend before. “Okay.” I rushed the words out before she could take it back, glancing at my apartment to make sure mama wasn’t watching. “I’d better go.”
Alina nodded wisely, and I shoved the ribbons in my pocket before grabbing the bag of food. I didn’t look back as I rushed into the apartment, or as the door slammed behind me. Instead, I smiled a secret smile to myself. I was going to have a friend.
If she’s telling the truth and not tricking you.
I shoved down that voice, the one in my head all the time that I hated, and climbed up the stairs.
I was out of breath by the time I got to my door.
“Took you long enough.” Papa’s voice growled from his bedroom door. “I’m starving.”
I rushed to the kitchen, pulling out the food I’d gotten and began to put it away, ignoring my mama. She was sitting on the sofa, right on top of my pajamas that I’d folded, watching me. A cigarette was to her lips, the ash flicking onto my pillow.
“I saw you talking to that girl.” Her raspy voice made my stomach clench but I stared into the fridge as I put away the apples.
“She just wanted to know if we had homework.” I spotted a stick of butter and slid it behind the apples, hoping mama and papa didn’t know it was there. I would eat it later.
“She go to your school?”
“Yes.” I poured the rest of the cottage cheese into a bowl and began to mix it with the last egg and flour.
“She’s not your friend is she?” Papa appeared in the living room, plopping down next to mama. He took her cigarette and put it to his mouth.
“Of course not.” I focused on the stove as I began making them syrniki so they wouldn’t see the tears pooling in my eyes.
I wished they would let me have friends. I wished they would make me food for once. I wished I could sleep in the warm bed all morning, instead of freezing out on the couch. I wished, I wished, so many things that would never happen.
“Good. Because we have something to tell you.” Papa’s voice was sharper than usual and, making sure to wipe away the one tear that had fallen down my cheek, I finally turned to look at them.
“What?”
“Today you’re going to pack up all our clothes and put them in the suitcase.” My papa nodded his head towards the brown luggage by the door. I hadn’t even noticed it when I came in.
My heart sunk to my stomach. I’d finally gotten a friend, only to move again.
“Okay.” I tried not to show the hope I was feeling that I would still go to the same school. “Where are we moving to?”
“Far away from here.” My wishes were crushed in a single moment. I bit down on my trembling lip and stared out the window, where Alina was probably still swinging and laughing, laughing and swinging. I could barely hear them anymore. “Where we’re going, the government will give us food and a place to live. Plus, it’ll be warm, not like this shitty place.”
My mama laughed and they began to talk to each other, making grand plans about how much money they’d make. I faced the stove again, flipping over the four small syrnikis , when I realized papa was talking to me. “You want a syrniki ?”
I swiveled, staring at him in disbelief. “Me?”
“Yes, you.” He nodded, his cold blue eyes on me. He had his arm around mama, his thumb brushing across her boney shoulder. “You’ll need energy to pack today.”
“You can have two.” Mama tilted her head upwards and towards papa, a proud look in her eyes.
“Thank—“ I shoved the first one in my mouth, not waiting until it was done cooking. They laughed as I gobbled down the rest of it, when my Papa came to stand over me. He pulled me into a hug, and I froze in surprise.
“You’ll see, detka ,” he kissed the top of my head, using the nickname he hardly ever used. “There will be lots of food for more syrnikis in Cuba.”