The Blackbird Girls by Anne Blankman

Author:Anne Blankman [Blankman, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2020-03-10T00:00:00+00:00

25

LENINGRAD, RUSSIA, SOVIET UNION

MAY 1986

Oksana

THE MORNING AFTER she learned her father had died, Valentina refused to get out of bed. Babulya let her miss school, for it was a Saturday and they only had classes in the morning. But the next morning, Valentina didn’t want to get up, either. Nor the next day, or the day after.

“This isn’t good for you,” Babulya said, sitting on the edge of the girls’ bed. “You must go on living, Valyushka. Your father would want you to.”

Oksana said nothing as she changed into her school uniform. Staying home for four days in a row! She could scarcely believe Babulya was letting Valentina get away with that. Her papa would have whipped her for being so naughty. But Babulya hadn’t done a thing except kiss Valentina’s cheek.

“I can’t go to school.” Valentina’s voice was clogged with tears. “Please don’t make me.”

Oksana tied her shoes with short, angry jerks. Valentina got away with everything! She lay in bed and cried and cried, as if she were the only person in the world whose father was dead. And Babulya kissed and coddled her, and let her do as she wished, while Oksana had to act perfect all the time so Babulya wouldn’t throw her out. She was sick of it!

She turned around. Valentina was sitting up in bed, and Babulya had her arms around her. Of course. Because Valentina was safe and loved, and Oksana was not.

Where had that thought come from? Papa had loved her, hadn’t he? She didn’t understand what she was thinking or why tears were burning her eyes.

“You’re spoiled!” Oksana burst out. “All you do is lie around in bed crying while the rest of us have to carry on!”

“What are you talking about?” Valentina looked surprised.

Head down, Oksana rushed to the door. She grabbed her satchel, which hung on a hook next to the mirror. Babulya had covered the mirror in black cloth, saying they needn’t concern themselves with their appearances while they were in mourning. But Babulya hadn’t done that for Oksana’s father. No one had let her lie in bed and cry. Instead, her mother had gone into her bedroom and left Oksana alone in the parlor. All night.

Hot tears filled her eyes. She flung the door open and hurried along the corridor. Behind her, Babulya shouted, “Wait!” but she ignored her. She clattered down the stairs and across the front hall, ignoring the kitchen. She wouldn’t have breakfast today. She’d rather go hungry than stay in this building for another minute.

Outside, the street was filled with grown-ups going to work and children walking to school. Quickly, Oksana fell in step behind a group of little boys and girls. Her heart beat fast. She was bad. And stupid and slow and weak.

Heat rushed into her face. She felt as though she were going to be sick.

The little kids in front of her turned into the schoolyard. For a moment, she looked at the two school buildings, the primary and the middle schools, joined by a shared playground.

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