Vova's story - the 1st day in 1st grade (in a boarding school)

The 8-year-old boy had never lost his baby fat. It wasn't that he was overfed - far from it. Close inspection of the little tyke would show that the only place he really looked anything but skinny was his face - his chubby cheeks endeared him to his grandmother - she called them 'kissable'.

It was with no small amount of trepidation that Vova climbed the steps to the huge, brown building. Had he needed to open the door himself he would have found it too heavy, but thankfully the lady whom he'd met at the bus stop opened it for him and ushered him inside.

Always somewhat sensitive, he recoiled at the smells that overwhelmed his senses as the huge door slammed behind him. Momentarily disgusted, he stood unmoving in the entryway, not wanting to venture further. The woman was already halfway up the stairs, expecting that he'd followed her. When she realized he was still standing at the threshold, she addressed him.
"Vova! Come on! We haven't got all day!"

The edge in her voice urged him forward, though everything inside was begging him to take flight and run back home - back to his grandmother's kitchen, where undoubtedly she was baking bread and his kitten was sleeping near the fireplace.

He wordlessly mounted the stairs and approached the lady. What was her name again? She'd told him at the bus station, but he'd been rather overwhelmed by all the new sights and sounds (and smells), and had barely remembered to grab the bag of food his grandma had packed earlier that morning, let alone a strange new woman's name.

As soon as he was within arms' reach, she grabbed his upper arm and hauled him the rest of the way to the teacher's lounge, apparently unconvinced he could make it there on his own.
It wasn't the first time someone had handled him roughly, but Vova still took offense to her boldness, and resisted just enough to let her know he didn't appreciate this kind of treatment.

She didn't seem to notice.

Upon reaching the second floor, Vova saw, for the first time, a terrifying crowd of various-aged children - some alarmingly big ones, some just his age, some in-between. Boys and girls milled about, yelled, and two even seemed to be having some sort of shoving match. His eyes widened as he took in the scene - the noise made him forget completely his aversion to the smells he'd been affronted with upon entering the building - now, had his arm been free, he would have covered his ears with his hands to drown out the chaos.
Fortunately the woman whisked him into the teacher's lounge and slammed the door behind - the slamming of the door made him jump, but it did put a barrier between him and the noise. Now he found himself being analyzed by no less than 5 women. It was really a rather frightening experience - they stood around, arms folded, some with hands on their hips, and discussed him.

"this is the new 1st grader? How old is he?"

"Goodness, would you look at that hair! We'll have to get Lena to shave his head, he's probably crawling with lice."

"Is that bag all he brought with him? I thought the director made it clear boarders had to bring their own rubber boots and winter coat."

"Wonder when the last time he bathed was?"

Vova could have answered all of these questions, had they actually been directed at him. The ladies didn't seem to care what his opinion was, though, and continued conversing as though he didn't understand Russian.

"Did anyone bring sheets over for his bed?"

"Yeah, I had the boys get some yesterday. He'll have to make it himself, though - they just left them sitting on the desk."

"Oh, that's alright - he's a big strong boy. Aren't you Vova? You can make your bed yourself, can't you?"

They'd been talking about him for so long, Vova didn't realize someone had personally addressed him until the woman who'd met him at the bus station snapped her fingers.

"Vova! Marina Timurovna asked you a question! Are you deaf? This isn't a school for deaf children. Dumb children can't live here, either - you aren't deaf, are you? Maybe you're dumb. Are you dumb?"

Vova's ears burned at her words, and he could barely find his tongue. All he wanted was to escape these awful women, this loud, smelly building, and all of their stinging comments. He wanted to cry, and he wanted to go home, and he suddenly realized he needed to use the bathroom.

"N-no, I'm not dumb." It came out stuttered - which made his ears burn even more.

"Well, then, at least we know that much - he's not deaf, and he's not dumb."

The woman who'd asked him about the bed repeated her question - this time a bit harsher.
"You do know how to make a bed, don't you?"

He couldn't find his tongue, so Vova just nodded.

Thankfully, she seemed satisfied. "Well, then, what are you standing around in here for? I'll show you your new room, and you can put your things away and make your bed. It's almost time for breakfast, so you need to hurry."She opened the door and, not wanting to be dragged by the arm again, Vova fell into step right on her heels.
"Right. You'll be in a room with the other 1st and 2nd grade boys. We expect things to be tidy and neat - you're not allowed to be sloppy here. Put your things away, and you'll take your turn sweeping and mopping the floors, probably later this week, when you're more adjusted. Bed's aren't for sitting on, they're for sleeping in. Don't sit on your bed. Do you have soap and a toothbrush with you?"

Again, Vova had a hard time keeping up with her train of thought - he was still processing her instructions, and had completely missed her question.

"Do I have what?"

"Soap, you know, to wash with. And a toothbrush. You've probably never brushed your teeth before."

In spite of himself, Vova glared at her. "I do too brush my teeth! I brush them every day!"
She raised an eyebrow as though she didn't believe him, but then turned and opened a bedroom door.

"Here - you'll live in here. This little shelf is for your soap, and toothbrush."


3 boys were playing on the rug in the middle of the room. It struck Vova as strange that they didn't even look up when he entered with the lady - they continued playing as though nothing had happened.

"That bed near the window, the one with no sheets, is yours. Make your bed and put your things away. Sasha, Roma, this is Vova. He's new and he'll be in your class."

For the first time, the other boys looked up from their game. Two of them only stared at him, the third gave him a little wave, but without smiling.

Vova wanted to cry, and he had to use the bathroom even worse now, but the lady just gave him a gentle shove towards his bed and then left abruptly.

He was alone with the 3 boys now, and for some reason, this unnerved him terribly. He made his way to the bed he'd been assigned and, after carefully laying his plastic bag of belongings on the bedstand, began to make it. He'd nearly finished, when the door was thrown open and a boy of about 14 entered.
"Where's the new kid?" The three on the floor all pointed to where Vova stood, pillow in one hand and pillowcase in the other, and the big boy met his eyes with what Vova could only perceive as an evil grin. It seemed like only a second later the boy was standing so close Vova involuntarily arched backwards to put some distance between their faces.
"So, where's your stuff, new boy?"
He blinked, not understanding. The older boy snatched up the bag he'd brought from home, and Vova suddenly realized what was happening. His hand shot out to stop it, but the older boy just took a step backwards.

"Easy fatso, just keep making your bed." Vova watched warily as the boy rummaged thru the bag, then angrily as he pocketed the home-made cabbage pies his grandmother had packed for later.
"Those are mine!" Vova finally found his voice, and the statement came out in a squeak.

"Not anymore. You better figure things out quick, Fatso. You got things we want, we take 'em, and you don't say anything." He pocketed Vova's only pen, his comb, and the small stuffed dog he'd been given for his 5th birthday.
Vova felt tears stinging his eyes. Those were his things!
The older boy dropped the bag, now containing only the new boys' clean shirt and underwear, and stepped close once again. He grabbed Vova by the front of his shirt and lifted him off the floor.
"Now look, fatso. You don't tell anyone anything, ever - you got that? If you do, I'll make you sorry you ever came here."
As the boy suddenly released his grip, Vova fell to the floor, and, unprepared, his knees gave out from under him. As he went down, Vova's head connected with the edge of his nightstand, and brought instant tears to his eyes.

The older boy turned to leave and, as he was closing the door, smirked and said "what a cry-baby."

The 3 other boys left in the room fixed their eyes on him.

"Yeah, you are a cry-baby. What's the matter with you? Stop crying."
This was spoken by a skinny, blonde-haired boy with ears that stuck out on either side of his head.

Vova buried his face in his hands and sat down on the edge of his bed. The morning had proved too much for his 8-year-old constitution - first the early-morning bus ride away from the only place he wanted to be, then the long walk to the boarding school, the ordeal in the teacher's room, and now this. In a matter of 4 hours his world had been turned upside-down, and he didn't like it one bit.
Long before he was ready, the lady from before burst into the room, announcing it was time for breakfast. The other three scrambled to pull on their rubber boots and light jackets, which had been hanging on hooks on the wall.

"What are you doing over there, Vova? I thought I told you not to sit on the bed!"
The woman marched over to where Vova was and he quickly stood, wiping his runny nose on his sleeve and sniffing loudly as he did.
"And don't wipe your nose on your sleeve, haven't you had any upbringing at all? Goodness. You didn't even finish making your bed, and now we're going to be late! What are you crying for? Stop this minute, and get your coat on!"
Vova's crying started up once again, and she fixed at him with an exasperated look.
"What is it?"

Vova stuttered, but he managed to get out his latest crisis.

"I...I d-don't have a coat!"

The woman sighed deeply and grabbed him by the arm.
"Well, we'll have to get you one later from the store-room. Will you just look at that face? Go to the washroom and get washed up - we'll wait for you by the front door. But hurry!"

Vova still desperately needed to use the bathroom, and anxiously looked thru his tears at the lady.
"where's the toilet? I need to go!"

She gave him a little shove and released his arm, then addressed one of the boys standing near the door, waiting to go to breakfast.
"Roma, show him where the bathroom is, and hurry - we're going to be late to breakfast!"
Roma was the one who'd waved to him earlier. He barely waited for Vova before heading down the hallway towards the teacher's room Vova had been in before. They walked thru a terrifying crowd past that room, to another. Roma pounded on the locked door, then yelled in an amazingly loud voice "open up! The new kid's gonna wet his pants!"
The door was flung open after a moment, and two teenage girls exited, one of them shoving Roma as she walked past. "You're such a pest!" He didn't seem to notice this, and turned to address Vova for the first time.
"Hurry up and go, and wash your face, you don't want everyone knowing you're a cry-baby right away."
Somehow, though his words were harsh, Roma's tone was the warmest Vova had heard since leaving home, and it gave him a spark of hope.
Two minutes later Vova opened the door of the bathroom, and alarmingly realized that the building, only moments ago so loud he couldn't think, was now strangely silent. His heart began to race - though he couldn't understand why, for some reason this was even scarier than the noise had been. Being alone in this big, new place was a terrifying thought.

He raced down the stairs, then threw himself against the big, heavy door. Thru sheer willpower Vova managed to open it, and found himself face-to-face with the 3 boys who'd been in his bedroom.
"You took long enough! Hurry up! Now we're gonna be late!"

It had been an emotionally overwhelming morning, and as Vova hurried to keep up with the hungry 3 boys, his tears threatened to return. He never asked to come to school - he'd been happy at home with his grandmother. Who needed school, anyway? He was overwhelmed, and angry that his things had been stolen, and he hated walking as fast as these boys were forcing him to.
"Hey, new boy, you aren't gonna get any breakfast - you're too slow. We're gonna eat all your food."
The shove from behind was unexpected and Vova nearly tripped, only catching himself at the last second. A dark-eyed boy in a red hat and dirty green jacket glared at him and ran ahead.
For Vova, it was the last straw, and for the third time that day, tears spilled down his cheeks. By the time they reached the dining hall, his vision was blurred and he couldn't even see where he was going. Roma turned around and, staring at him for a moment, came over and put his hands on both of the new boys' shoulders.

"Hey, new kid, listen up. You can't cry here - nobody cries. If you cry it'll be worse. You get it? Stop crying, right now. I'm telling you, it won't get you no sympathy in this place. Don't cry anymore - ever again. Never cry. Life will be better that way."