Chapter 9

The next morning, I ran off to school even earlier than usual (my parents were leaving on a business trip, and I awkwardly kissed my stepmother on the cheek, embarrassing her with the unexpected affection—and embarrassing myself in the process), then hurried along the beautiful, snow-covered streets of Cherekhino and hopped on the first bus. Stas tracked me down by the school coatroom, blocking my way with his broad shoulders and easily pushing me aside. He spoke flatly, as if he were addressing an invisible person, before I could even look up at him in surprise:

“My friends are coming over today. I hope you won’t be stupid, Skeleton, and will hide somewhere like a mouse. And if you even squeak a word about the party to Dad and Mom, you’ll be sorry…”

“What did that peacock want from you, Nastia? Did you see how he strutted off? He almost ran into Petka. Is Frolov completely blind?”

Dasha rarely missed a thing, and as we got ready for class, she glared at Stas’s back, never imagining the panic his words had set off inside me. I suddenly felt so unnecessary and unwanted. Like a grain of sand that had slipped from the shore into the sea again and was now slowly sinking to the bottom.

A party? In my stepmother’s house? But my parents had promised to be back by nightfall if nothing delayed them. Galina Yuryevna herself had said that morning she would try to return! I couldn’t count on Stas, even though he’d promised to straighten up. They would definitely come back; all they had to do was start up the production line with the new, expensive equipment and get the first batch of products out… My father had said nothing.

“I-I think he mistook me for someone else,” I lied to Dasha, looking away.

I’d never been good at lying, and I felt terrible. I went to class with my friend, so consumed by my own worries that I barely noticed I’d gotten an excellent grade on my report and a good one in English, or the strange looks Marina kept giving me as she whispered with the girls again. At practice, she couldn’t manage to catch me by the knees as I kicked up from a bridge into a handstand, and I kept slamming my heels painfully onto the floor, unable to hold my balance.

“I can’t stand that stuck-up Voropaeva. What’s she got against you?”

“I don’t know, Dash, but I don’t care.”

“Well, I do! She’ll hurt you, and Albina Pavlovna won’t even notice, caught up in her crazy ideas! What was she thinking? What are we, gymnasts?! Let her go wild in her choreography class; we didn’t sign up for this!”

“But she’s trying to do what’s best. It’s her job.”

“She is, but I’m not so sure about Voropaeva. She only wants the starring roles, and then you come along with all that flexibility.”

We were already leaving school, and as Dasha ran down the front steps, she asked, as she always did, casting a casual glance toward Zbruev, who was shifting from foot to foot in the alley:

“Going home, Nastia?”

I wasn’t going home, and I wasn’t going to lie to my friend anymore, so I answered honestly:

“No, I’m going to the hospital to see Grandma. Dad can’t visit her today, so I’ll go myself.”

“Well, bye! See you Monday! Say hi to Grandma!”

“Bye! I will!”

It was Friday, and the school emptied quickly. After waving goodbye to Dasha and Zbruev one more time, I adjusted my hat, tightened my scarf, and headed toward the avenue. The hospital where Grandma was staying was two bus stops away. A few times after class, my father had met me at the school so we could visit his mother, and I figured I could easily follow the familiar route. Besides, it was just past three in the afternoon; the street was bustling, and after my stepbrother’s warning, I really didn’t want to go home.

“No, honey, not here. Nina Matveyeva was transferred to another ward today. Go down one floor…”

“Thank you…”

Grandma had been transferred from cardiology to the general medicine ward. I walked carefully down the hall and opened the door to an unfamiliar room. She had been feeling much better over the past few days, but she still looked sick and weak.

“So, how are things at your dad’s, sweetheart?”

I didn’t want to upset her.

“Good.”

I sat beside the hospital bed, holding Grandma’s hand. We chatted about this and that, but mostly we just looked at each other and smiled.

“Grisha says Galya treats you well and has taken you in as her own daughter. She even bought you new clothes and textbooks. God bless her! I was so afraid she’d hate you. Still, you’re not her own flesh and blood…”

“Yes, Galina Yuryevna is very kind. Very, very!”

“She also says you and Stas have become friends. Galya’s got a handsome son. I saw the pictures—a real looker. Bet he has girls lining up at school? Does he strut around like he owns the place? I know that type. Watch yourself, Nastia—don’t fall for him. You’ve always been such a homebody. If you do fall in love, what are we going to do?”

It was an unusual conversation for us, and I blushed, shrugging and shyly looking away.

“Grandma, stop. He doesn’t even like me. We hardly talk, and Stas has his own friends at school. Honestly, he isn’t very happy to see me, but I don’t take it personally.”

“Good! You don’t need him! You’ve got your little Egor. He’s growing into such a good boy! When we get back to town, you can tell him all about how you lived here and what you saw. Bet you miss Egor, huh?”

“Very much!” It was true, and I smiled broadly as I remembered the handsome, blue-eyed face of my neighbor and childhood playmate. His skinny, gawky body, smiling mouth, and light-blond hair in a bristly crew cut. “I really do!”

Grandma suddenly grew sad. Every so often, a brief spell of gloom came over her, and I squeezed her warm, dry fingers more tightly, unwilling to upset her in any way.

“What’s wrong, Grandma? Everything’s fine! I’m here with you, and Dad will come see you—you’ll see! He just can’t today!”

“I know. That’s not what I’m sad about, Nastia. When I look at you, I see Anya. As a little girl, she looked like her mother, and now you two are practically twins. Anya had the same lively eyes—big, blue, and shining. Just like yours, sweetheart. And such extraordinarily beautiful hair. Soft and curly, falling to her waist in dark-blond waves; every boy used to stare. Oh, why did I let you cut yours? What an old fool I was.”

“Grandma, tell me about Mom. I don’t remember her at all.”

“Nastia, how many times have I told you already?”

“I know. Tell me again! I miss her so much.”

“My baby…”

“Please! Tell me how you met Dad. Is it true they went to the same school?”

Of course I knew the answer. But I wanted so badly to hear it all one more time!