He looked down the street for the girls' bus, wondering if this first day of school would be a short one. He was anxious to hear about Kataryna's first day at the new school. After all she had been through, he prayed that this year would be a smooth transition for her.
He did not have the same worries about Genya, or Jenny as her friends called her. Genya always landed on her feet. She was the perfect Ukrainian granddaughter: beautiful in a blonde and blue-eyed way, with a bright smile and easy grace. She was his malenka ptashka — his little bird. She was in her last year of high school on the top of the honour roll and had set her sights on studying medicine. Everything seemed to come easily to Genya. He was grateful that she didn't seem to mind moving out of her bedroom and into Kataryna's so that he could live with them for a bit.
Kataryna, on the other hand, always did things the hard way. She was his zolota zhabka — or golden frog. And just as the girl in the fairy tale had understood that on the inside the golden frog was a prince, Danylo knew that Kataryna was very special. She was almost blind without her glasses and when she was little, she had broken more pairs than he could count. Teaching her how to ride a bike was like pulling teeth, and he could barely remember her without bruises and scrapes on her skinny legs and arms. Unlike her older sister, Kataryna was inconsistent in school, and she never grew tall. But it was Kataryna who visited the hospice every day when Nadiya was dying. It was Kataryna who sensed intuitively when her presence would be a comfort.
The crunch of gravel in the driveway brought Danylo out of his thoughts. He looked up and saw a ratty blue Volvo pulling up. The passenger door opened and out stepped Genya. "See you later, Karen," she called to the driver of the car, then closed the door and loped up to the back steps of the house.
Before opening the door, Genya peered out into the back yard. "Are you out here, Dido?" she called out in Ukrainian.
"I am here digging potatoes, malenka ptashka" called Danylo. He watched as his older granddaughter shaded her eyes from the sun and regarded him from the porch.
"Would you like me to help you finish up?" she asked.
"Thank you, but no," he replied. "I'll be done soon."
"I'll start supper, then," she called back, then went inside.
Not too long after that, the school bus dropped Kataryna off at the corner.
CHAPTER 3
KAT WALKED UP the steps at the back of the house and noticed the row of drying potatoes along the window ledge. She opened the screen door and walked in, setting her knapsack beside Genya's books, which were stacked neatly on the scrubbed wooden table in the "summer kitchen".
Many of Kat's friends had never seen a summer kitchen before they stepped into hers, and they couldn't really understand its purpose. But it was so much a part of her life that Kat never gave it a second thought. It wasn't much more than an enclosed verandah with a wood stove at one end and a table along the wall. A battered chest freezer was in one corner, and an ancient turquoise Fridgidare was in another. Kat's father had reworked the regular kitchen plumbing so that there was running water and a giant utility sink too. Kat's mother did all her big cooking jobs here. Summer and winter.
She could hear her sister in the regular kitchen clanking pots and pans, but Kat didn't go in. Instead she walked back outside. It was such a lovely day that Kat knew her grandfather would be in the garden. She found him on his hands and knees amidst the potatoes, trowel in one hand, and basket close by. He looked up when he saw her approach.
Kat peeked into the basket and saw that it was almost full. She marvelled at how productive this small city garden had been. A year ago, this had all been lawn.
"It looks like you've got plenty for dinner tonight. Let me help you to your feet."
She extended her hand and grasped Danylo's outstretched one.
"Oy," he groaned. "My knees want to stay where they are." He stretched slowly to a standing position and regarded his younger granddaughter with affection.
Kat bent down and picked up the basket with one hand and then looped her other arm around her grandfather's waist. "Let's go in and I'll tell you about the new school," she said.
Kat's nose was greeted with the wonderful aroma of chicken cooking in garlic as they walked into the kitchen. Genya had just finished tearing a head of romaine into a bowl and was mixing up an oil and lemon dressing in a mason jar. Kat's stomach grumbled with hunger.
"You finish up, okay?" said Genya to her younger sister. "I want to get changed." She dried her hands on a tea towel and hurried out of the room.
As she washed and sliced the potatoes, Kat told her grandfather about Cawthra. Danylo's eyes sparkled with interest. "This sounds like the very best place for you, zolota zhabka."
"I just hope I don't mess up like last year," said Kat.
"You didn't mess up, zolota zhabka," replied Danylo. "St. Paul's wasn't the right school for you."
While Kat appreciated her grandfather's words of support, she couldn't help but feel a small twinge of anxiety. Had she really tried to fit in, after all?
Kat tossed the potato slices with a bit of vegetable oil and then laid them out flat on a cookie sheet and popped them in the oven. "You wash up, and I'll get changed," said Kat, giving her grandfather an affectionate kiss on the cheek as she dashed out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
The door to the bedroom that Kat now shared with her sister was open and the curtains on the bedroom window were pulled back, letting the bright sunlight stream in. Genya had already hung up her grey uniform pants and thrown her white shirt into the laundry hamper. She had changed into her favourite lazing around outfit: a faded pair of plaid boxer shorts and a T-shirt. She was propped up on her bed, doing homework.
"I can't believe you're doing homework already," said Kat in disgust. "Who does homework on the first day, anyway?"
"That's why you struggle and I don't," replied Genya. "If you get everything done as soon as it's assigned, nothing piles up and you get good marks."
Kat felt like gagging. One hour after the first day of the school year, and her sister was already worried about marks? What a warped sense of priorities!
Kat pulled the curtains shut so she could get changed. She took off her pants and top and dumped them on the floor, then pulled on a pair of denim cut-offs and a cotton shirt from another pile on the floor.
"You are a slob," said Genya, gazing at her sister over the edge of her textbook.
Kat frowned at her sister, and then looked around the room that they now shared. Yep, she was a slob. No doubt about it. You could almost draw a line between Genya's half and her half of the room.
When Genya moved in, Kat's bunk beds had to be unstacked and placed side by side, leaving little room for anything else. Even so, Genya's side consisted of a neatly organized chest of drawers and a night stand. No stray papers, books or clothing were visible. Everything had a place and was in its place.
Kat's side of the room looked like a hurricane had swept through. Even though there was a perfectly good laundry hamper set in a neutral zone between the two sides, Kat preferred the pile method. One pile on the floor was for dirty clothes, and another pile was for clothing that was worn, but not yet dirty. Her clean clothing sat in a laundry basket, wrinkled and unsorted, at the foot of her bed. More often than not, Kat just got to the bottom of the clean clothes basket and then piled all the dirty stuff into the basket, washed it, and the whole process started again. It might not look great, but the method worked for her.