Chapter Text
Good morning! My name is Ilya, I am ten years old. Alexi is supposed to drive me and him to school with his drivers license. When I am a teenager, I will learn how to drive too. I will outrun the moon and drive until the trees blur like Speed Racer. He is my favorite cartoon character on TV.
I don’t tell Papa but Alexi has been getting very bad marks in attendance at school. The teachers call his name and took me outside in the hallway to ask where he is. I told them I do not know. But I checked the bathroom and saw his shoes under the stall. Alexi does not share the TV remote with me anymore. I think he is trying to be like Papa who raises his voice and slams the door in my face all the time.
When Mama lies on the couch for a long time and doesn’t want to get up, I pretend to play hockey in front of her. Hockey is the best thing ever, besides dogs maybe. I have a hockey book with famous players and sticks and moves. Mama and I read it all the time but she is tired now so I read this page for her.
All of a sudden while it’s her turn to read, her voice gets wobbly and she stops reading. “Keep going!” I ask her please, it’s getting to the good part where Russia won the competition for the first time in history.
I like when she gives all the different players voices, some of them are squeaky like a mouse and other players have big, booming voices. She raises her fingers to her eyes. I turn around and her face is scrunched up. I get off the couch to the tissues and pat her face. I wipe the tears away like she does for me when I fell off the tree and got hurt.
“It is okay Mama.” I tell her. She nods and opens her arms to hold me tightly. The book falls off the couch as she hugs me. We lose the page we were on.
Shane tries to lap me at hockey practice. I can see my breath puff in the ice rink. Shane pulls out wipes to clean his gear off immediately after practice every time. I would rather wipe my gear off later at home or.....never, I tell him with a mischievous grin. I know it will gross him out. Shane looks disgusted when I tell him and I threaten to chase him around with my gear.
He kicks my foot and invites me to watch hockey re-run clip with him at his house as I peel off my gloves that are sweaty. “Right now?” I ask him. Shane looks at the ground, rolling in his skates left and right and does not move very much while I think about going to his house. I didn’t have to think much. I really like watching hockey clips with Shane.
In the car ride home, me and Shane are in the back and our gear jostles around, making the familiar squish-squeesh sound in the trunk. We race each other to the front door. Mrs. Hollander asks if we want snack plates for me and Shane with carrots, edamame, and cheese. Mama says I am always hungry because I am growing so much these days. I nod and say thank you.
“Ilya honey, would you like to stay for dinner? I can phone your dad and ask.” Mrs. Hollander asks, throwing edamame scraps in the trash. She pops a few green peas in her mouth. The tea kettle climbs to a boil on the stove. I feel my face heat up. I do not want to look at her because she mentioned Papa. He would be mad if I ate at someone else’s house again like we’re poor or something.
“Your pork stew dish is my favorite.” I tell her instead. No one in my family can cook that one. I think she is part magic with her cooking. Shane is super lucky he gets to eat it every single day. I told her at home, I chop vegetables and make pasta. Mrs. Hollander says I am a very good cook and very mature for someone my age. She asks how I learned to cook.
Shane keeps tugging at my sleeve to go play. I tickle him, he scrunches his nose up at me and his freckles crinkle. I tell Mrs. Hollander I learned watching cooking shows on TV and then bolt after Shane down the hallway.
Mr. Felipe is always at the bakery. I know what type of bread Papa likes the most. Mr. Felipe has a missing finger and says that he lost it in a fight with a polar bear! When he laughs, I can see a few of his missing teeth like a pirate. He will wipe his hands on his apron and ask me which pastry I want “on the house” with the bread I buy. There are a lot of cookies, I always want to say the cookie desert.
He is very nice and tells me to be good. I eat it on the way home so Alexi does not eat it all.