Fall’06

Sergei and I had finally moved to our own place. It was a tiny two-bedroom duplex in Greenfield, just a few blocks away from Vlada’s house. Vlada insisted we stay close to her, and though initially Sergei wanted to move out of Greenfield, he agreed. After living with Vlada for six years, it was strange to have our own place. It felt empty and quiet.

Having graduated from Duquesne law school the year prior, Sergei was working as a junior attorney at a family law firm downtown. He picked family law because of what happened to Mama.

“I want to help people in these kinds of situations. Especially women.” Sergei announced when he was applying to law schools.

“Your mother would have been so proud.” Vlada noted, wiping a tear.

My older brother was winning at life, and I was far from it.

Unlike Sergei, I didn’t like school. I hated doing homework because it took time away from my two favorite activities. Gaming and reading. After Mama’s death, I started reading a lot. At first, I read because it reminded me of being little and reading together with her. And then I got into it.

My favorite book was ‘The Count of Monte Cristo.’

The two-tome edition we brought with us from Russia was still there, but I couldn’t read it. I never learned to read in Russian. So I had invested into my own English-language edition of Dumas’ classic. The parts of the book I loved were when Edmond Dantès exacted justice on those who had done him wrong. The meticulously planned revenge, the unsuspecting villains, settling the score, I reveled in the descriptions of how the Count took justice into his own hands. I admired the Count and knew that one day I would also be like him. I would avenge Mama’s death and exact justice on Philip.

I had stopped calling him Papa after Mama’s death. He was now Philip. Phil. The Groundhog. I know it’s immature, but I called him that after Punxsutawney Phil.

In Mama’s memory, I changed my name back to Rodion. Ryder was in the past. It was the name Phil liked and so I couldn’t keep it.

The only subject I liked in school was art. It was because of the teacher, Dr. Clark. He appeared gruff and unassuming, but was caring and kind. I was initially afraid of him, until, a few months into my freshman year, I came to his class soaking wet. It was raining hard that day and I got soaked on my way to school. And Dr. Clark gave me dry clothes.

After that day, I loved Dr. Clark. He never asked me about my parents, but I he must have known I was an orphan, because he always gave me inspirational talks. He’d mention his ancestors, tough Irish immigrants who, despite all odds, made it in America.

“Rodion, the key to America is working hard and having no fear.” He would tell me after class. “That’s how my grandparents made it. Get your education, Rodion. It’s free, at least for now.” He’d give me a pointed stare. “And Allderdice is a great school.”

“Yes, Dr. Clark.” I’d nod. I didn’t mind his speeches, I knew he meant well.

“You’ll be alright, kid.” Dr. Clark would note, twisting his mustache.

***

My junior year, on the first day of school, I got to class early to claim my favorite spot at the large table in Dr. Clark’s classroom. His classroom had large tables, where we sat, four to each table. The room filled, but the seat across from me was still empty. It was the only empty seat left. The bell rang, and Dr. Clark cleared his throat. My heart leaped at the idea there wouldn’t be anyone sitting across from me for an entire semester. And then a girl walked in.

“Sorry I’m late.” She breathed hard. “It’s my first day.”

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“Have a seat.” Dr. Clark pointed at the seat right across from me.

The girl sat down right across from me and smiled. She actually smiled at me. I averted my eyes.

She was pretty. Very pretty. Light brown hair and large brown eyes. There was a wholesome look to her, like she believed everything in the world would be alright.

I immediately regretted my outfit. I had on Sergei’s old t-shirt with Jim Morrison on it. I almost always wore my brother’s old clothes to school. Black jeans and t-shirts. They felt like armor, as if my older brother was with me at all times, helping me deal with the world. But that day I wished I was wearing clothes that reflected my interests rather than my brother’s.

Dr. Clark did roll call.

“Rodion Likharev.”

“Present.” I responded.

“Welcome back.” He gave me an approving nod.

“April McPherson.” He continued. The girl said:

“Present.”

April.

Until then, I never understood why women got named after months. May. Julia. Augusta. Especially not Augusta. But April’s name suited her. It was pretty. Just like her. I gaped at her and didn’t realize it until after she lifted her eyes at me. I saw her cheeks turn slightly pink. Does she like me? I looked away and focused on sketching.

Dr. Clark had placed several animal skulls on the table. Animal skulls. It was how we usually started the year. That day, the one I’d picked out was a fox skull and I took it as a good omen. Though I no longer slept with the fox lovey, and almost never played Stewart the fox, I still loved foxes.

The hours I’d spent, the levels achieved, the dreams I’d had featuring Stewart. All that was important to me. I sat there, staring at the fox skull, preparing to draw, when the girl spoke to me:

“Hey.”

I looked up at her and felt myself blush. She was so pretty; it was hard to look at her.

“Do you remember me?” April opened her eyes wide. I looked down at the skull, pretending like I couldn’t hear her. “You’re Rodion!” She insisted. I was forced to look up at her again. She was looking directly at me and smiling. A nice, open smile, as if I was a long-lost friend she had found at last. I almost rolled my eyes, but then I remembered. The smile! Only the last time I’d seen it, she was missing a front tooth.

“The school bus!” She giggled.

“Excuse the interruption, folks, but how about we focus on drawing?” Dr. Clark walked up to our table and narrowed his eyes. I could almost see a smirk on his face. I looked back to the skull and drew, counting the time until class ended.

She was the girl from the school bus. The very one who sat right next to me when I first went to kindergarten without speaking a word of English.

The class dragged on forever, and I couldn’t wait for it to end. When, at last, the bell rang, April spoke first.

“Rodion! I can’t believe it’s you. I barely recognized you. What a coincidence. It’s my first day here.”

“I know.”

“You speak English now.”

“Oh. Yeah.” I shrugged. “So, where have you been all this time?” I said and felt my cheeks turn red. I sounded so corny. April grabbed her bag, and we walked out of the classroom together.

“In Singapore.”

“Wait, for real?” My mouth gaped open.

“Yes, we moved there right after kindergarten. Because of my dad’s job.” She sighed.

“What does your dad do?”

“It’s some Artificial Intelligence stuff. We barely see him. Some cutting edge research.” Another sigh.

“Artificial Intelligence? Isn’t that dangerous?” I tried to keep the conversation going as long as I could.

“No, of course not.” She waved her hand.

“Haven’t you seen ‘Resident Evil.’?” I gave April an incredulous look. “The Red Queen? You know, the destroyer?”

“That’s just a movie. I mean, I’ve never seen it. But anyway, now we moved back here, so I could apply to colleges. You know what they say, junior year is the most important year of high school.” She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah.” I didn’t know what else to say. April suddenly seemed so out of reach, with her global travels and plans for college. I was just a loser, an orphan with a dubious future.

She ran her hand through her hair.

“And what about you?”

“My mother died when I was eight. And I never had a father.” I heard myself say. I felt tears well up in my eyes and, to avoid crying in front of her, I turned around and scurried off.

“I’m sorry.” I heard her say through the noise in the corridor and clenched my fists in anger as I turned the corner and went to my next period. Stupid girl. Stupid idiot. What am I even doing talking to her?

I tried to not think about the encounter, but couldn’t. This had never happened to me before. Usually, the second I got home, I was in my zone. I attached myself to the console, and I was gone. Closed to the world.

But not that day. The second I turned the screen, it was April’s face I saw in front of me. The concerned look on her face when I told her my parents were dead. I wanted to kick myself for being vulnerable in front of a stranger. “Tomorrow, it’ll be different. I won’t talk to her.” I promised myself and tried to play. But I couldn’t. “I’m sorry.” I heard her voice and wanted to wail in pain. To shriek.

In the end, I stopped trying to play and went for a run. All the way to Schenley park. When I ran, I felt like Stewart the fox, moving fast, not a thought in my mind.