– Valik, and give me candy.
– He came close to us and did not leave until Aunt Zina has not slipped into his hand a piece of candy in a red wrapper. He took the meal and turning to me said:
– Give me more for the guys. And I say that they will not fight you. And if someone will fight you, then you tell me. – He stood there and did not go away, and crushes a candy wrapper in his hand. Aunt Zina said to me: – Valik, do not let anyone these sweets. They are alcohol and these children should not be given sweets.
I felt its importance and significance in these moments, and turned to Aunt Zina:
– Can one give? On the one as there will be nothing wrong with that.
The mother looked at me and said:
– Well, give him one. And let yourself go entertains comrades.
I gave him two candies, and Kohl happily ran to his friends by popping in your mouth all at once. There’s still two boys began to look in my direction. It was not hard to guess what they have learned from Kolya. After a brief meeting, Nick came back, and so is repeated until then, until a box from under sweets was not empty. Then Kohl forgot about my existence…
– Oh, it’s you, Nick. Sit next to the Valik. – Gently, almost tenderly approached him teacher Aunt Olga, rippling weighty body, went to the dispensing window.
The dining room was built in the form of a canopy. The difference in treatment educators to me and Cole was noticeable. Kohl arrived in kindergarten is too late, even for a longer time than I arrived. But he was treated especially carefully stressed, when I was there. Of course, I did not understand this treatment, somewhere subconsciously feeling like an outcast.
Before us was a bowl of soup with fresh peas and chunks of meat.
Kohl looked at my plate and said:
– Give me a piece of fat, I will give you this piece of «meat».
Plate Kohl was a large where piece of cooked bacon.
– It’s not meat! – I said.
– Meat! Meat! It is so white and there is no fat there.
Before I could answer, Nick threw a white, quivering like jelly piece of cooked bacon on my plate, and my plate of delicious ribs with scooped meat.
A lump of disappointment went up to my throat, and stopped there on.
– Take, eat, this is the meat. – Nikola tried to persuade me. I believed him and took a piece of cooked fat ingestion.
– Only you swallow it immediately. It’s meat! – Looking wide- eyed at me, Kohl continued.
I made an effort, and swallowed a piece of clean boiled pork fat layer. Again insulting heart was torn by deception Kohli, who is considered a friend. I could barely hold back the tears and nausea creeping ever closer to the throat. Dinner is not wanted. Some fat is stuck in the throat sickening obstacle. But this fragrant fresh peas, green dill and homemade bread. My favorite soup now seemed tasteless. And then there’s the cook began to shout at me:
– You do not eat what?! Take a spoon in his hand and eat!
Taking advantage of a moment when she turned, Nick grabbed my bowl of soup and threw under the table, then quickly put the rinsed before me. Cook walked around the long table, and again approached us:
– Well, from the fellow. Additives give?
– No, I do not want to. – I mumbled.
– On, Here, drink compote. – She put in front of me a glass faceted pear compote, smelling smoke. I drained the glass in a moment, seemed so good drink after a portion of boiled, fat disgusting. Seemed to give me a bucket of fruit compote, in that memorable moment, half a bucket would surely drink. But the portions were strictly limited.
Nausea rises. Pounding in his temples. Red butterflies fluttered before his eyes, breathing almost stopped.
With a sense of disgust, I looked around and saw the front of the laughing face Koli. The boy rejoiced. Taunts failed, feeling the winner shone in his smug grin.
At that moment I wanted to run home to your friends – redhead cockerel and a dog named Marsik, to the beloved cow dawn, and always nagging Grandmother Eugenia Lavrentevna.
I got up from the table. Nausea intensified, heart beat pounding in his temples throbbed. Reeling, I’m like a drunk, he stumbled to the sink. There i vomited. Hideous pieces of bacon with the gastric juice released stomach. Stomach contents spilled in the trough basin, making it easier overall. Nick, pleased with himself, ran to the courtyard, where there was a fun game. I washed and rubbed his face with a towel, my health has improved significantly, dizziness passed, and I ran toward the merry voices of children. In the courtyard I met hubbub of children’s voices. The game was in full swing. Who sculpted headstock in the sandbox that fought for molds and soviet sand? Who is going to a bed, where, incidentally, it was forbidden to do so, the flowers, until Aunt Olga accompanied my grandmother. But as soon as she turned toward the children, all the children innocently played. Pranks instantly forgotten. The storm – a teacher punishing luxury nettle stem, was a respected person and scary for the child’s perception. I joined a small group of boys at wooden swing that looks something like a giant paperweight painted with blue paint; some had time where peel off. For my kids did not pay any attention. Two of them sat in the seat on the left and three on the right and having fun swinging. From the unequal weight swing skewed and almost rocked.
– Hey! Let me show you Kiev – suddenly I suggested.
– What?! – Almost in unison they shouted the boys.
– Very simple. Let me get out on a seat, and you sit down in front of me and I will rise right up to the very clouds.
– Hurrah! – Cried the children together.
I climbed on the seat one, all five of them, climbed on the contrary, and I was raised high above the courtyard of the kindergarten, over the flower beds of children.
– Well, you see Kiev? – asked the blond boy with blue eyes wide open.
– It is seen! – I answered authoritatively.
– Show us Kiev! – All together rushed towards me and «paperweight» and threw me down, rolling over in my direction.
– Well, what have you done?! I no longer see anything.
But the game flowed in a new way. About Kiev forgotten, beginning to play «Kwacha» (catch- up, who gets caught up, and the Kwacha).
For fun games I forgot about punishment, but it was waiting for me, threatening unexpected places for disobedience grandmother.
Suddenly, there was a teacher Aunt Olya:
– Children’s game over! – Now we’ll go to hold on to the handle and all together.
After breakfast, the teacher Aunt Olya, full and unwieldy from its fullness, the conclusions of children in the oak grove on a soft, velvety grass. She spread a blanket under a thick gnarled trunk of an old oak tree, put on him his fat body and set about their everyday activity, blouses knitting or darning stockings.
– Valik! – She called a poisonous tone of voice. – You are now punished and do not go for a walk. Sit here and do not depart.
What could be worse for the most terrible punishment for restless boys sit near the kindergarten teacher, when there is a fun game right there next to the eyes. Lose game that breaks all my heart my nature and severity of the ban does not allow to give pleasure, then the game becomes a hundred times more attractive than it really is. This is the world of adults. What could be more boring than this world? Are adults do not understand the hearts of young people, as restrictions in this my age to bring deception and cunning in small. So sitting next to Aunt Olya, I mused philosophically. And the sad thoughts plunged me into the maze of considerations that adults can only resolution to encourage the child to the game, and the ban only toughens the soul, is pushing for a crime.
– Valik! – Called on the boy, skinny and frail peers. His wide- open blue- gray eyes and looked innocently. A friendly smile and good luster, and snub nose, facial expression did everything endlessly naive. He began to gesture to invite me to play with him. A teacher at the time, snoring, already nodding, somehow manages to sleep sitting up, not leaning back against the tree trunk. I carefully stood on tiptoe ran for oak.
– Well, what are you, Pavlik?
– Come on, let’s play in Kwacha.
– And if someone says?