“See you soon, Katya,” Sergei called.
When Angelika turned towards me, her expression was perplexed. “What did Sergei mean, Katya?” she asked.
A few yards from us, Sergei and Andriy had stopped to cross the street.
Even though the whole town seemed to be out enjoying the sunny day, suddenly biking to the station and breathing in that black smoke seemed like a bad idea. “Sergei, Andriy, you should go home,” I yelled after them.
“Are you kidding? It’s a holiday,” Sergei answered. The light changed, and Sergei and Andriy pedaled off in the direction of the station to watch the fire like many others.
We had reached Angelika’s apartment complex. It was a gray concrete building with a green leatherette door and a lone poplar tree in front.
“What did Sergei mean, Katya?” Angelika repeated.
The truth was bad, horrible. Especially when I had gotten caught like this and hadn’t told Angelika in advance as I had planned. What could I do now but tell her? “Sergei asked me to ride the Ferris wheel with him,” I confessed.
Angelika’s face darkened. “Thanks for stealing my boyfriend, Katya.” She turned her back on me and started towards her door.
“I was going to tell you. I promise,” I called after her.
“You don’t even like Sergei.” Angelika glared over her shoulder at me. “You’re just doing this to hurt me.”
Was this true? I felt both guilty and confused.
Without saying goodbye, Angelika slammed the door and disappeared inside.
Standing on Lenin Street, holding my blue bicycle, I understood that everything was my fault. I was responsible for Angelika’s pain, for the accident, for all that was going wrong. Although I knew Angelika liked Sergei, I had sought his attentions anyway. And didn’t lots of young girls live in the area? Yet Vasyl had chosen me to hear his secret. Why would he do that unless he knew I was a bad person? Angelika was right to get away from me. I didn’t deserve friends. Certainly not nice girls like her. Those boys wanted me because they knew I was bad, a daydreamer who made up lies about fairies and would go into the woods at night.
A fire truck barreled past and startled me. It raced toward the station. Was that Boris clinging onto a ladder on its side? “Boris!” I screamed.
The fireman tipped his hat. Only it wasn’t Boris. The dark-haired man was a stranger.
I needed to go to the boulder and find Vasyl again. Although I was a mess inside, my cottage wasn’t destroyed. Noisy was alive and well. My cows and chickens were healthy. If I could convince him that he was wrong, then perhaps I could convince myself that everything was fine.
Nina Ivanovna had told us to go straight home, but the boulder was just a short detour. As I was hesitating, deciding what to do, I realized I had another reason for stopping by the boulder. I remembered that I had forgotten my baby matryoshka. I needed to rescue her. Then afterwards, I could ride home and check on my father.
Climbing onto my bike, I hurried alongside the cars, other bicycles and people. When I reached the end of the block, I again faced the new Ferris wheel. Although I felt dark inside, the gleaming yellow circle shining against the blue sky still managed to lift my spirits.
I was certain of one thing: the day we celebrated the solidarity of all workers, May Day, was right around the corner. This was the most important holiday in all of the Soviet Republics; it wouldn’t be canceled unless the world had ended. It was as plain and simple as that. Whatever had happened at the station, Pripyat would be back to normal by May Day. But would I be? When I tried to feel excited about riding with Sergei, I couldn’t. Angelika’s angry words had ruined my anticipation.
I raced as fast as I could towards the boulder. At the top of a small hill, I began panting. I struggled to identify the acid taste that had coated my tongue. Car Battery.[3] I had never tasted one before, but somehow this seemed right. What a strange flavor, I thought as I kept pedaling towards the woods.
When I reached the rushing stream, Vasyl was nowhere to be seen. I stepped closer to the boulder and saw ants feasting on the sausage and cheese that I had left last night. I dropped to my knees and examined the dirt. Although I noticed scuff marks, my baby matryoshka was gone.
I thrust my hand underneath the boulder, but all I felt was my muddy cup, an old fishing reel, a ball of twine…. My green blanket had disappeared, too. The green blanket was so worn that my frugal mother had no problem giving it to me for my outdoors picnics. It was dirty and worthless. But now its absence was proof that Vasyl was dishonest, and the proof made me happy.
“So you are just a common thief,” I muttered. All of my imaginings that he was special now seemed fanciful. What I had learned from Granny Vera were childish tales. Papa was right. Science was the only truth.
I leaned my bicycle against the boulder and set off into the woods. After traveling a few hundred yards, I spotted a square of fabric. It lay underneath an oak tree whose low outstretched branches reached out towards me like gnarled hands. Although I must have walked by this tree many times, I had never noticed the tree’s unusual branches before.
“Vasyl,” I called out cautiously.
When no one answered, I bent down and crawled on my knees towards the trunk. A thin sheet, a blue towel and a piece of foam rubber lay on the ground. I ruffled through the damp material but found nothing interesting. I was about to leave when I noticed a candle stub at the base of the tree. It was almost burned to a nub. Used matches littered the ground.
I moved closer to view a carving. Someone had cut into the tree trunk a crudely drawn heart. Who had been coming to this secret space? Could it be Boris and Marta?
But people their age didn’t hide underneath trees. This had to be Vasyl’s hiding place. It was clear to me that something was going on in these woods I never knew about.
To catch Vasyl, I just needed to watch this tree. When I spotted him, I’d call out, “Liar.” Nothing was wrong with my cottage. I’d tell him, “Give me my blanket and my doll back.” But at the thought of the confrontation, my heart began pounding.
Better, I would tell Papa that a boy had stolen my belongings from me. I would send Papa to find Vasyl, who was a thief and a liar. I wasn’t bound to keep my promise to him. Not at all!
When I returned, my father’s car was still parked in front of our cottage. Mama was standing in our front yard talking to Boris’ mother, Inna Boiko.
“Why aren’t you at school?” Mama asked.
“I found his hiding place,” I choked out. “There’s a boy in the woods. He stole my blanket and my baby matryoshka.”
“What are you talking about?” Mama plucked a tiny twig from my uniform. “You’re all sweaty.”
“I saw a boy in the woods. He was wearing my green blanket around his shoulders.” I started to tell her about the baby matryoshka but in a panic, I realized that I couldn’t talk about the doll without admitting my nighttime trip.
Mama and Inna Boiko looked at each other. “Have you heard about any thieves in our neighborhood?”
“No.” The dark hairs above Inna Boiko’s lip were quivering with disapproval.
“Where exactly is this hiding place?” Mama looked serious and angry.
I felt badly about getting Vasyl in trouble, but as I remembered the boy’s cruel words, they hardened my heart. “In the woods. By the boulder.”
Mama yanked my arm. “And what were you doing in the woods by the boulder? You are supposed to be in school!”
I had misread her anger. She was angry with me, not with Vasyl. “I’m sorry, Mama…” I started to object that Vasyl was the one who was guilty, but she interrupted.
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