Andrea White - Radiant Girl

Upon hearing these words, I remembered the change in the moonlight that preceded Vasyl’s explosion and fire. Had my nose actually burned with the heat? Yet a glance at my cottage with its blue shutters reassured me. Maybe Vasyl’s warning held some truth. Maybe the station, which I didn’t really care about, was damaged. But my world, my cottage, was intact!

“They were running a safety test,” I overheard Papa say when I was able to focus on the conversation again.

Papa struggled to sit up. “I feel so tired,” he complained.

“Here. Ivan, let me help you,” Mama said.

I jumped up and joined her. We each took an arm. Together, we pulled. It was like moving a lazy cow. Somehow, we steered Papa down the path and through the front door. His wooden chair groaned when he collapsed into it.

“Now, Ivan,” Mama said. “Tell us what happened.”

“You didn’t hear the explosion?” Papa asked.

Mama and I shook our heads.

“Sound sleepers,” Papa mumbled before closing his eyes. His head fell back. “I feel…” At the sound of his voice trailing off into a long, slow moan, my heart flung itself against my rib cage.

My mother must have noticed my stricken face. “Katya, your father will be fine. Remember how he carries on when he has a cold.”

I knew that Mama was right. Papa hardly ever got sick, but when he did, he always acted grouchy and pessimistic.

Mama’s gaze was steady. “Busy hands, calm heart. Now take off your father’s boots,” she ordered me.

Papa will be fine , I repeated to myself as I knelt down on the wooden floor. Everything is fine. As I unlaced my father’s work boots, I enjoyed the ordinary sight of the curtains fluttering in the light breeze. I noticed that the photos of my parents and of Granny Vera hung in the exact places that they always had on the wall. I listened to the familiar sound of Noisy barking in the yard. Everything will stay exactly the same, I promised myself.

I tugged, and Papa’s boot popped off. Instead of that stinky, father-foot smell, I was puzzled when I smelled another thunderstorm. To try to discover the boot’s awful secret, I stared into the well, but it merely looked dark and worn.

“Stop playing with Papa’s boot,” Mama snapped.

“Yes, Mama.” I guiltily set the boot aside.

“We’ll help you to the bedroom,” Mama suggested to Papa.

“I’m tired but not sleepy,” Papa mumbled.

“Tired but not sleepy.” Mama repeated the phrase as though it were one of my math problems that she couldn’t understand.

“That’s right,” Papa said irritably. “Natasha, why don’t you and Katya leave me alone?”

Mama cast her worried eyes toward the door. “Katya, go on to school.”

I didn’t argue with her. I didn’t like watching my big, strong father act like an invalid.

As I ran out the door, Mama called, “Papa didn’t get any sleep, and he probably just inhaled a lot of smoke. Don’t worry, O.K.?”

“O.K.,” I lied.

In the front yard, I knelt next to Noisy. “See you after school,” I promised him.

On my bicycle, I glanced back once more at my cottage. Through the blue-shuttered front window, I could see Papa with his eyes closed, sitting in his chair.

Mama knelt before him.

I PUSHED MY BICYCLE WITH ONE HAND as Angelika and I strolled down Lenin Street. Angelika’s apartment was on my route to school.

“Did you hear about the fire at the station?” I asked her. I wanted her to tell me that nothing was wrong.

“Father called this morning,” Angelika said. “He said that we have a good fire department. Everything will be all right.”

I was glad that Angelika didn’t appear to be worried.

“My Papa came home early. He wasn’t feeling well. Mother said it was the smoke,” Katya said.

“Or maybe the flu,” Angelika said. “My aunt was sick last weekend.”

“That could be it,” I said. I cheered up, thinking about this very normal possibility.

“I hope he gets better soon,” Angelika said.

“He will be,” I said, although I still felt uneasy.

Above us, a banner for the upcoming May Day Parade flapped in the wind. Workers of all countries, unite. Long live May 1 . An amusement park was scheduled to open for the first time on May 1, the day of the parade, and when we turned the corner, we found ourselves facing it.

The Ferris wheel formed a yellow ring against the sky. Very few people from our area had traveled in an airplane. Even the adults were excited to get a view of our city from on high. My parents had promised me that I could ride in it.

Six more days until the amusement park opened, and I would be sitting in a booth on that Ferris wheel. I could hardly wait for May 1st. Before then, I promised myself I would figure out a way to tell Angelika I might ride with Sergei. When I thought about it, I decided that she must have noticed his recent special attentions. Twice when our class was playing soccer, Sergei had kicked the ball straight to me.

My mind wandered off into a daydream. Wouldn’t it be great if I could ride the Ferris wheel with Sergei? We could sit side by side. Just the two of us. Why, our booth might even stall at the top. A fog might blanket the city that day, and we might find ourselves riding through the clouds.

“Carousels are for babies,” Angelika was saying, gazing at the merry-go-round, which with the electric cars and the Ferris wheel made up the whole amusement park. “Of course, if Sergei were with me….”

Suddenly, I remembered I had a new problem, more serious than how to tell Angelika about Sergei’s note. As my thoughts turned away from Sergei, I murmured a polite, “That would be fun.”

“Do you think Sergei will ask me to ride with him?” Angelika asked in the gayest of tones.

The contrast between her total happiness and my nervous anxiety made me feel so lonely that I blurted out, “Do you think anyone can see into the future?”

“No,” Angelika said. “Of course not.”

I was too ashamed to tell even Angelika the whole story about the boy, but I was too worried not to share a part of it. I said simply, “Yesterday, I met a boy in the woods.” I knew better than to tell Angelika that he seemed magical, like some kind of spirit. “The boy warned me that there was going to be an explosion and a fire.” I pointed in the direction of the station, at the plume in the sky. “And this morning the fire happened.”

Angelika’s pretty lip curled in derision. I could see the gums above her small crooked teeth. “What could a boy know about that fire?”

“He might live in the woods,” I explained. “Maybe he’s not a regular boy.”

Angelika’s brown eyes flew open with alarm. “Have you told your parents about him?”

“Not yet,” I said.

“You should tell your parents,” she insisted. “That boy sounds dangerous. They need to send police to look for him.”

I was starting to wish that I had never mentioned Vasyl to her. “I’m afraid they’ll get angry with me,” I sputtered.

“I’m sure they will,” Angelika scolded me. “Because you know you shouldn’t be with strange boys in the woods.”

“You’re right.” How could I have been so foolish as to spill my wild story to Angelika? She might decide that I was odd and not be my friend. Vasyl was right about one thing. I needed to keep the secret of his existence to myself.