Chapter 4

POV Nastia

I washed the T-shirt like he told me to and put on the dress. It was quiet outside the door, and I thought Stas had left. My backpack was still by the wall, and I thought that if he kicked me out of the house now, I wouldn't be able to find the hospital in this big city where Grandma was staying. I hadn't even had time to learn my father's new phone number.

“Come out! Quit huffing outside the door and testing my patience! Time's up!”

He hadn't left. I opened the door, took a timid step forward, and walked straight into my stepbrother's chest. We both jerked away at once and froze, staring at each other until his hands slowly clenched into fists and a cold light flashed in his eyes.

“Never, Skeleton… Never touch me, got it? Or I'll hit you.”

He said it quietly, almost in a whisper, but I believed him. I pressed my back against the wall and lowered my eyes, not knowing what to expect from him next. More than ever, I wanted to be alone with Grandma in our quiet little house. To vanish in a flash from this room, where it was so uncomfortable to stand beneath my stepbrother's angry stare.

He turned and headed for the door. From the threshold, he tossed over his shoulder, “Come downstairs. I'll be waiting below,” then disappeared down the stairs. His bed was still unmade, the blanket lying on the floor… Before leaving the warm but unfamiliar bedroom for good, I wanted to pick it up and make the bed so I wouldn't upset Galina Yuryevna. For some reason, I didn't think of my father.

Nothing in my stepbrother's room belonged to me. I looked around, took my backpack and cardigan, and went downstairs. When I reached the wide foyer on the first floor, I stopped, not knowing where to look for my coat and boots.

“Well? Why are you just standing there?” I heard his nasty voice behind me. “Would you like me to carry you to the kitchen, Miss Elf?”

Stas stood with one shoulder against the doorframe, his hands habitually shoved into his pants pockets, watching me expectantly. Even then, he seemed grown-up to me—much older and physically stronger than my classmates—and I definitely didn't want to make him any angrier.

“What, going home?” he asked with a crooked smile when he noticed the bag in my hands. “Good for you, little sis. You figured out fast that you're not welcome here. Need some cash for the bus, hmm? Or maybe you want to borrow some skis—brand-new ones? You can make your way through the first snow to your Distant Bur. You'll get there by New Year's.”

I must have looked ridiculous—confused and embarrassed, my hair tousled from sleep—but I felt anything but ridiculous.

“I don't know where my coat and hat are. And my boots.”

“In the hall closet. I was going to move your rags to the storage room, but Mom wouldn't let me. Need help?”

“No.” I finally met his eyes, lifting my chin. “I can do it myself.”

I didn't know where to go or what would happen to me next, but with my stepbrother watching, I quietly got dressed, picked up my backpack, and headed for the door. He didn't stop me. He kept standing in the doorway as I walked up to the gate and stopped, having no idea how to open it. With my neck burning with embarrassment, I could feel the laughter in his gray eyes as I tugged at the massive handle, hoping it would give. It didn't.

“What, back already, stepsister? Again? Wow, you're persistent.”

Stas went farther into the house but didn't close the door. After standing by the tall gate a little longer, I trudged back. The foyer was quiet and empty, and I was afraid to go inside. Outside, the frost had glazed the puddles with ice, and the first snow was still drifting down… I closed the front door so I wouldn't let the cold into the house, turned away, and sat on the bench by the porch. With a sigh, I tucked my chin into my collar, planning, most likely, to wait for my father. What else could I do?

My stepbrother dragged me back inside by my scarf like a puppy and spun me around to face him.

“Are you messing with me, or are you just trying to make me mad?”

“No!” I answered honestly, feeling my hat slip over my eyes, but I didn't dare adjust it. “I can't open the gate.”

“I know. It's got an electronic lock.”

“And I have nowhere to go. I don't know anyone here.”

If I expected sympathy from him, I was disappointed.

“You don't need to know anyone, little sis. Mom will bring you back anyway. You don't have to do a thing to make everyone dance to your tune. Just bat your lashes guiltily and cry your eyes out every now and then. You know that, don't you? Isn't that exactly what you did to my mother?!… Come on, princess of the poor elves, let's play truth while no one's around. Let's be honest with each other: what did you really have in mind when you showed up here? Get Pop back all to yourself? You're not a woman, and that trick doesn't work with daughters!”

He yanked my hat off again and stared into my eyes while I stayed silent. What could I say to him? He hated me and thought I was a scheming manipulator who had tricked her way into their home; anything I said in my defense would have sounded downright pathetic.

“Fine, Skeleton,” Stas said, suddenly stepping back and jerking his hands away in disgust. “We'll talk again later. For now, put everything away, bring your bag inside, and go eat breakfast in the kitchen. And remember: I don't repeat myself. That's more than you deserve. Mom will be calling soon.”

Galina Yuryevna called. By then, I was already hovering in the doorway of her dining room, not knowing what to do with myself, and I obediently told my stepmother that everything was fine. That Stas was, of course, taking care of me, just as he'd promised her. And no, he wasn't being rude—of course not.

“Good job, wimp.” My stepbrother took the phone from my hands, trying not to touch my fingers. “Keep it up. I don't want to upset Mom and Pop. Tonight, you'll tell your stepmother that you've thought it over, we've reached an agreement, and you'll move to another room. Preferably far away and for good. And I, for my part, will pretend you're not here until you and your grandma disappear from our lives.”

He started pretending I wasn't there the moment I put my fork into the porridge and timidly picked up a sandwich. Only when I got up from the table, cleaned up after myself, and washed my plate did he call after me:

“And remember, Skeleton—this was the first and last time I cooked for you. Tell the director thanks for making her son promise. Otherwise, I wouldn't have come anywhere near…” I turned around, and our eyes met again. “Someone like you.”

He hadn't expected it, but I said anyway:

“I know.”

Then I went back to his bedroom, shut myself in, and spent the rest of the day reading. I wanted more than anything to call Grandma, but I never did. And that evening…

I tried—honestly, I tried—to tell Galina Yuryevna that I could sleep somewhere else. That I would even be comfortable in a folding chair, if they had one in the house, but she wouldn't hear of it. An hour later, I heard her voice through the wall of the adjoining bedroom: