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“Pietra, Veronika! Andrei, come on already!” Anya had a knack for waking the children up early on a Saturday… They needed to get their chores done at once, for Saturdays went by quickly and they needed time to explore the back woods and play in the stream and have sword fights with sticks and, and…
The girl’s mind was often filled with mischief and fun. Anya was only twelve, but she was the bossiest girl around… everyone knew better than to mess with her.
Little Mikhail was the first one up, his legs tangled in his bed sheets.
“What are we doing today, Anya?” His hands were in fists as he yawned, stretching his arms up to the sky.
“First things first, we have a lot of cleaning to do.. So let's get on it, before Phelgmenkoff gets on us!”
The dimly lit room where Anya’s young roommates all slept was a dreadful disaster. Anya unlatched the lock to the window, releasing a burst of fresh air from the crisp November weather. Too bad the windows were far too dingy and old to open all the way: the quarter of space was all they could afford but Anya was sure to relish in it.
Her pale nightgown swished over her head and onto the floor in a heap. As Anya patted down her ferociously messy hair, she examined her oddly shaped nose and shamingly noticed that her undergarments were getting far too small. Why couldn't she have been born beautiful, like the fashionable women she saw in the crinkled magazines a visitor had once left behind? Instead, she was making poses in front of a dusty mirror that was barely holding together.
Taking one last glance at her less than satisfactory appearance, she tossed an overworn dress over herself and headed out the door into the hall. A broom and mop were especially needed to fix up the cramped room.
The hall was crowded with screaming children, an unusual sight for 8 am. With a groan, Anya shuffled past half a dozen kids throwing spitballs at each other.
She had forgotten it was ‘inspection day’ as Phelgmenkoff liked to call it; it would be difficult to get a hold of any cleaning supplies as orphan after orphan scrambled to get the last rag, though uncleaned, available.
Upon seeing the redhead, a scrawny, shaggy haired boy made a face, his tongue foolishly sticking out at her in an insult. “Anya, Banya, Idi v’banyu! Her hair is dull and she smells like stew!”
Like wildfire, her head whipped around in less than an instant, her flaming curls swooping the air like a curtain from the motion.
“Karl Smeir! Once I get a hold of you, you’d wish you’d never been born!” Anya leaped at the boy, shoving through the crowd of gaping children, fists poised. The threat brought attention.
The boy merely snickered. Anya knew his arms were folded for the sake of looking intimidating, but the way his shirt was half unbuttoned made him look stupid. “You won’t hurt me. Remember what Phelgmenkoff said the last time? She said you should control your temper, and not be so sensitive about every little stupid thing people say to y-”
The first blow landed on Karl’s forehead, right between the little beady eyes of his. Anya ignored the chants and laughs of the other children and hit him square on the nose, praying it would bleed to teach him a lesson.
She imagined the whole situation playing out in her head. ‘Who’s the red one now?’ she would say. But her moment of glory would never come as twatty old Phelgmenkoff came bustling over to the commotion, her warty chin bobbing up and down. She was tying her worn apron in a huff, a white crusted stain of dried milk on the fabric. Anya couldn’t hear her words but decided to blow off her rising temperament.
Karl looked like a pathetic mess. His hair was plastered to his dumb head with sweat and his helpless body was curled up in a ball, his sobs not meaning a thing to Anya.
Lisbetta pointed to a tiny object on the ground near Karl’s crying heap. “Look, his tooth! Anya knocked his tooth out!”
This made Karl cry even harder, his tears soiling his shirt even further.
The orphanage headmistress firmly took Anya’s wrist in her dry, wrinkled palm, practically dragging her away from the scene.
“When someone says something mean to you..”
“But he deserved it! He deserved it good!’
“Anya! You foolish girl, get going, get going,” Phelgmenhoff said as she showed the crowd of children away.
“Now, off to clean the outhouses, girl, get on with it!”
-
Dinner that night was dreadful; or rather, the lack thereof was dreadful. Anya did not appreciate the punishment, but decided the smartest thing would be to sit it out. The slightly more kept room of rows of beds was eerily quiet with the emptiness, though she could hear the children’s babble downstairs.
Her spot on the far end of the wall was near the window, and the cool draft made her fingertips feel faintly numb. She laid her head on her flat moth-eaten pillow and closed her eyes, seeing stars.
A headache erupted from behind her eyes, starting small, then building from there. Headaches for Anya were common, and she had mentally connected her mysterious forgotten past to them, amounting to the fact that she probably hit her head and was left abandoned.
Abandoned children was not an uncommon thing to come by, but it still didn't make sense to the girl. Why wouldn't a family want someone like her in it?
She was smart, respectable when she wanted to be, followed orders, and made friends easily. What was there to give up?
She confessed that she was prone to blowing up and letting her anger fester. Her tongue was quick to nasty insults and she was not opposed to fighting physically. But even naughty children were deserving of loving parents, surely?
Many nights she stared at the ceiling and conjured up pretend parents for herself. They lived in a quaint house in the countryside, and they had two little dogs and hens that she loved to feed and take care of.
Her mother had hair like hers, the shade deep and the strands thick, but her father was dashingly handsome and had deep brown eyes that glowed.
Both had considerably good fashion tastes, and loved dressing Anya up and spoiling her with summer dresses and winter cloaks.
They fed her heaps of lasagna and copious amounts of desserts. They were sure to hug and squeeze her every night, filling her head with the sweetest dreams she ever experienced.
And when she woke up, she would be lying next to the rows and rows of children who longed for the same thing, all snoring and singing in their sleep.
Of all the things she wanted in the world, a family was what she wished for the most.
All orphans wished for that, she supposed, but not like Anya did. With every passing day, she would hold her necklace close to her chest and let her imagination carry her away, far away enough that her reality would start to blur with her dreams.
It was childish to think of at times, being cared for and appreciated through hugs and gifts, but after all, Anya was still a child, and in her heart there remained room for fairytales.
Some of the older children, who had lived at the orphanage long enough for the hope of family to be crushed, taunted Anya ruthlessly for still believing that she would ever be taken care of the way she wanted.
Anya didn’t let the taunts reach her head, and instead felt pity for the children who were forced to grow up and face what real life had to offer far too soon. She could only hope that as she grew older herself, she would remain faithful to her dreams and stay away from the ugliness beyond.
She was wise enough to accomplish that, right?
In her room, she was designated story teller, and was admired for her ability to make up stories on the spot. She didn’t know where it came from, but she convinced herself she was born reading from gilded storybooks that were bigger than her whole body.
Her mother must have valued fantasy and literature, making sure her daughter was learned in the ways of fiction.
Anya’s favorite pastime was making the young ones giggle as she told them stories of romance. Veronika especially liked to have the same story repeated (one of where the maiden saves the prince from a six eyed sea serpent) and Little Mikhail adored the one where the prince and princess get married and run away together as dragonslayers.
Her popularity with the young ones got her into the fire of jealousy, but Anya was confident and didn’t bat an eye when she overheard nonsense told about her looks and personality.
And, to Phelgmenkoff’s dismay, she sometimes enjoyed getting shut up in her room, as that allowed her the joy of sweet silence she could spend with her imaginary family.
Some days, however, were harder than others.
One morning she awoke to the sound of her bed mate putting on her buckled shoes. It was early in the morning, and Anya could barely open her eyes. She saw that her hair was combed neatly and tied up with a ribbon. For once, she smelled like nothing at all.
Anya blinked once, then twice, and sat up in her bed with a creak.
“Pietra,” she whispered. “Where are you going?”
Her bed mate put a finger to her lips. “Ms, Cadmerry came from London to get me. Lady Esme is going to adopt me! She sent in the papers just yesterday through real mail!”
The girl squealed but still kept relatively quiet. Anya’s heart dropped. Her friend was being taken away?
They shared many memories together, all from pranking Phelgmenkoff to learning how to braid each other's hair. The parting of the friends would be bittersweet.
“And you’re leaving… now?” Pietra nodded, clicking her buckled shoes together, walking over to their shared nightstand to grab her few belongings.
“I heard Lady Esme lives in a giant house made of brick. She has beautiful, lush rose gardens and horse stables! I am to become her own personal girl-maid and will get to meet her first thing tomorrow! It is a long trip, and I have real work ahead of me but well… I’ll be living in a real-life castle, Anya!”
Her happiness was contagious, but Anya felt tears in her eyes instead of joy in her cheeks.
Here her friend was, about to be sent off to who knows where, doing who knows what. Wasn’t she frightened?
But then again, Anya thought, she is getting a home and a family. Even more so, away from St. Petersburg all together.
And where would Anya end up? She would be lucky if she could get a job at a fish market.
“I better go.. cranky Phelgmenkoff will spank me to Africa if I don’t hurry.. oh Anya.” She rushed to the other side of the bed and hugged Anya tightly.
With both of the girls sniffling, they were making a lot of noise, but they didn’t care one bit.
Anya weakly smiled. “Promise you’ll remember me?”
Pietra nodded, giddy. “Of course I will. How could anyone forget you?”
And with that, her best friend was gone, and for the first time in her life, Anya was truly jealous. The spark was like lightning, and she crushed her head into her rotten pillow and cried.
Wouldn’t someone come and comfort her? Maybe caress her forehead and tell her a story?
She didn’t want much, just a soft touch would be enough.
Her headache returning, she felt a hand at the small of her back, and a warm, cheery voice say, “You’re alright, Anya. Mother is here.”