Winterland by Rae Meadows

Author:Rae Meadows
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co.

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Anya sat alone in her little room, on the top bunk, the bed below empty, the mattress bare. She’d been at Round Lake almost a week, and her roommate hadn’t appeared. She wasn’t used to the quiet of having her own room, the space of it, so she closed her eyes and imagined she was home—the lamp, the dresser, her father’s bed an arm’s reach away, the wind biting at the window frame. She taped up a photograph of herself with Yuri taken last year at the Friendship Tournament. He looked old, his beard graying. Now that Irina cooked for him all the time, he had a bulging middle. In the photo Anya looked like someone else, her dark eyes looking squarely at the camera, her hair behind her ears like little black curtains tied back. She’d grown a little taller, still as lean as a whip. She sometimes wondered if her mother would recognize her, or if she would recognize her mother if she passed her on the street.

At the bottom of her suitcase was the packet of Tsvetaeva poems she’d found in her father’s things and had taken without telling him. He was with Irina now, and he was soused every night anyway. He would never notice.

Anya’s roommate, who had yet to arrive, was a senior who was returning to Round Lake. Anya assumed that like the other seniors, she would be brusque and want nothing to do with her. She rolled over onto her back and picked at a callus at the base of her pinkie, then bit it with her teeth and tore it off, leaving a bloody hole. When she wasn’t in the gym, she feared she might float away, untethered. She could hear stifled sobs on the other side of the wall. Yulia again. You’re not allowed to feel lonely, Anya told herself. Think of Sveta. But thinking of Sveta, who felt lost to her, made her feel more alone.

A small girl pushed open the door. Reddish light-brown bangs, hair in a ponytail, big hazel eyes. She looked as vulnerable as a baby bird, but old, somehow, knowing. Anya felt her chest warm and expand, a rush of relief, and she couldn’t help smiling, liking the girl already.

“Hi,” the girl said. She smiled, just barely. “Here.” She held a tea cake up to Anya, powdered sugar whitening her fingertips. “My babushka made them. I won’t tell the evil Albina. Have you met her yet?”

Anya nodded. Albina was the pointy-faced matron who monitored their meals so they wouldn’t gain weight.

“We better eat them all tonight.” She set her small satchel on the bed below and brushed the crumbs from her hands. “I’m Elena.”

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Anya said.

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