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– What did you do in the pharmacy?
– Thus I bought a cure for evil.
– There is no such medicine. – Authoritatively stated Ochkolyas.
– You look! – I solemnly showed him two packages.
It's glucose. – Without batting an eyelid, answered Lenya.
I did not know yet what glucose is. But there was no escape, and I asked:
– And what is it? Glue, glucose?
– And let me show you.
– On. – I gave Lena a bag. He busily unfolded it, took out one large pill and put it in his mouth. Then he took out another one. Stretching to me, he said:
– Take it, try it. They are sweet and very tasty.
"Lyonya," her mother called to Lenya. "How long will I wait for you?" Well, ka runs to me. I'll take you on a bum.
Ochkolyas with a half- eaten packet rushed to his mother, forgetting to return it to me. But I already did not care. Again deception and disappointment. The pharmacist gave ordinary glucose for the medicine. But where can I understand the trick of the pharmacist, because this glucose, as a cure for evil, helped me to recover from the grievances and get myself back to normal. I gave a new impetus to training self- control in stressful situations in the future and helped me to realize that we need to weigh our actions and actions in order to keep calm and self- control…
– I would take him to us. Very sorry for the boy.
– No. Why do I always have to bring you back to our field of vibrations?
– I remember our tasks here. I remember that there will not be one, there will not be you, the same will happen to me.
– Remember we are not alone on Earth and we, like this defenseless boy, have many enemies here.
– And where is it to CHDCU (Coalition of Highly Developed Civilizations of the Universe) look, ah, commander? – The voice sounds ironic.
Chapter 5
I urgently needed a friend, a sincere, strong adviser, who would replace my father. To be with a friend always and everywhere together, to feel his protection and support, is not this happiness. Such a friend did not have.
One day from Pereyaslav Khmelnitsky came to my grandmother her nephew Uncle Kolya, the son of her brother Gregory. He was on a business trip in Kiev and drove to us with a mission from Grandfather Gregory to send a letter to my grandmother. In a letter, Grandfather Grigoris invited my grandmother to come to visit, referring to the fact that because of his sores he cannot start on trips. My grandmother responded by dictating my mother a reply message, in which she promised that she would definitely get out and leave when she was ready for the trip. Uncle Kolya was busy with me all day, playing ball. And after dinner we go with him to the park. There, along the avenue of ancient lime trees, planted since the time of the sugar plant Tereshchenko, we observed the way of the ants. As these toilers, moving one after another, dragged on themselves, who a piece of the stem of grass, who is a tiny leaf, and who is a fragment of a black wing of a beetle. Uncle Kolya, while walking with me park, told me different stories in which heroes were bold and courageous travelers who overcome adversities that met in their path. I was interested with him. And how I regretted having spent the night with us, he left early in the morning.
Loneliness was sweeping the wave, suppressing the spiritual impulses to the beautiful vision of the World. Everything seemed gloomy, unfriendly, and hostile. It is especially painful in the moments of not understanding by children, relatives and relatives, and I have invented loyal friends for myself. So my friend became a penknife, which helped to create from cut twigs real "swords" or "guns", which I fought with evil nettles, feeling at this moment strong and brave.
Perovny knife gave me a cousin of Volodya. He was the son of Aunt Kelly, my mother's sister. He graduated from an agricultural technical school in the field of horticulture, and his mother invited him to clip the apple trees in our garden. The knife was horticultural for cutting cuttings when chips were sliced. At the end of the blade there was a special protrusion for opening the incision of the bark, and very sharp. I also had a colored glass, blue – blue, in which the world appeared in such blue colors as in a movie, and the birds, and leaves in it, and grass and sky, everything was blue. And the sky during the day seemed as it was at night. Only the sun, as bright as ever, and look at it through the blue glass is as painful as without a glass. Still my friend was a cockerel. He walked proudly around the yard. His multi- colored tail developed in the wind, attracting the attention of layers. Cocky had a good fight. And although I was rather afraid of him, I considered the cockerel to be my friend, because he was never gentle and was always bullying me. Sometimes, spread the wing, and sideways – sideways approaching, bellicose crying like a turkey. I scare the bully with a "saber", but it's all in vain. With a wild clucking, the cock jumps to me on the head, beak on the head and forces me to flee. I hide behind the massive door of a wooden corridor. A cockerel with a view of the winner, pacing, decorously turning the sides of the layers, they say, look what kind of hero I am. Bitter moments of loneliness…
The last year before the school was particularly difficult. A summer kindergarten for the children of collective farm workers "Bolshevik" was opened, in the winter Shpitkovsky kindergarten did not work. Grandma was going to take me away.
"Are you lying down again?" She called out to me. I had already dozed off, lying on the stove, dreaming of my friends. "Come on, get down, otherwise it will be nine o'clock soon," Grandmother insisted inexorably.
I reluctantly got off the stove. I took off the long saurian sisters, who served me as a nightdress. He put on his pants, shorts on single harness- suspender pants, sleeveless and ran out barefoot in the yard. There was already waiting for me cockerel. The bird, seeing its enemy, glanced sideways at the eye, and went on the offensive, trotting violently from foot to foot, as if imitating a heavy goose. But the grandmother creaked openly, opening the corridor door and a grandmother appeared on the threshold. The rooster reluctantly retreated, pretending that he was collecting grain, and he had no business for the boy. Grandmother, being entangled at the stove, was late with her grandson. But, nevertheless, my grandmother took my hand, and we set off. I had no choice but to follow the grumbling grandmother. We went out into the street. Then the road stretched along the avenue of century- old lime trees, the remains of an ancient landowner's park, the violent bloom that greeted me and my grandmother. Suddenly my grandmother stopped and looked me over:
"Well, you are mine, to whom do you seem like, eh?" She clasped, and grabbed me firmly by the shoulders, pulled me to her. I shook my head, but my grandmother inexorably began to lick the grimy cheeks, spitting at the dirty saliva. "Washing", thus, my face, she led me to the kindergarten. And, me, I did not want to go there. I did not want to part with my friends the Knife, Blue Glass, and Cock; they were not allowed to take them with me. I unwillingly trailed behind, deliberately lagged behind the hurrying grandmother. And the chestnut trees greeted with green leaves. The park was full of friendly hymns.
"Yes, go faster!" She urged me. And I added a step, but as soon as my grandmother turned away, walked a little forward, again lagged behind, and finally decided to hide behind the trunk of a spreading chestnut.
– You see what a child, hid! From the scoundrel! Come on, come out! "Grandmother, grumbling, thus, came back, passed by, and I ran out of the home and mockingly said to her in the back:
– B- ah- babushka, and who are you calling there?!
"Well, wait, I'll tell Aunt Ole, she'll give you nettles, she'll treat you!" Now will you know how to mock the old people?!
That's kindergarten. The teacher full, round- faced, met us at the gate.
"I will not accept you." The children have already been in the dining room for a long time.
– Yes, he does not need to eat. Let it go to play! Retorted the grandmother.
"We cannot do this." – And, addressing me, – And you will be punished for being late. The last time I receive you. – And already to the grandmother, – It is more that not late! She ordered severely. To which grandmother waved her hand grumbling:
– A- ah! – We know you!
I followed the teacher after him.
In the dining room it was warm and hot, the wooden tables were already removed.
– Sit down at the table! The teacher ordered.
I sat down and began to talk with my feet. Suddenly, a long thin boy grew up beside him. It was late for the kindergarten of Jester Kolya. I considered him my friend. He also did not have a father and he, too, like me, was late for the kindergarten today. Our friendship began even from last year, when my grandmother's sister's father came to our house to measure my mother with Albert, my father. Her name was Aunt Zina, and she lived in Moscow, and worked as a stenographer in the office of the government of the USSR. Mother said that she had stenographer various meetings of government meetings and even attended the visits of foreign delegations at the invitation of the government. She brought a whole lot of chocolate sweets with cherry liqueur, cognac, well, I was allowed to take two pockets in my jacket. And Aunt Zina, and my mother strictly ordered me not to call her grandmother, to call only Aunt Zina, although in fact she was my great- aunt. Aunt Zina volunteered to take me to the kindergarten, but my mother did not allow, as it turned out, my mother was afraid that my father would take me to Moscow and give it to Aunt Zina. That's why I, with stuffed pockets of chocolate sweets, my mother and Aunt Zina together led me to a kindergarten. This is where the Jester Kohl appeared, who did not pay any attention to me before attention, since he was a whole year older and had his own circle of friends of the same age. He timidly approached me and asked: – Valik, and give me a candy? – He appeared next to us and did not leave until Aunt Zina put a candy in his hand in a red wrap. He took a treat and said to me: "Give me, for the guys." And I'll tell them not to offend you. And if someone will pick you up then you just tell me. – He stood and did not go, pulling the wrapper from the candy in his hand. Aunt Zina said to me: – Valik, do not give these candies to anyone. They cannot be given with alcohol and children of these sweets.
I felt my importance and importance at these moments and turned to Aunt Zina:
– Can give one. With one, nothing bad will happen. – Mother looked at me and said, – Well, give him one. And let him go to treat his comrades.
I thrust Kolya two canteens and he happily ran off to friends, popping into his mouth all at once. There two more boys began to look in my direction. It was not difficult to guess what they learned from Kolya. After a short meeting, Kolya came again, and so it was repeated until all my sweets were over. After that, Kolya forgot about my existence …
"Oh, it's you, Kolya?" Sit next to Valik. – Gently, almost affectionately addressed to him, the teacher Aunt Olya, swinging her weighty body, went to the dispenser window.
The dining room was built in the form of a canopy. The difference in the treatment of the teacher to me and Kolya was noticeable. Kolya too late, even for a longer time. But he was treated with particular affection when he was near me. Of course, I did not understand such treatment, somewhere subconsciously feeling like an outcast.
Before us appeared plates with soup with fresh peas and pieces of meat.
Kolya looked into my plate and said:
"Give me your fat piece, I'll give you this piece of meat."
Kolya's plate had a large white cousin.
"It's not meat!" – I retorted.
– Meat! Meat! It is so white and there is no fat.
Before I could answer, as Kolya threw a white piece of boiled bacon, like a jelly, in my plate, and from my plate scooped up an appetizing rib with meat.
A lump of sorrow came to my throat, and I stopped eating offense.
"Take it, eat it, try it, it's meat." Kolya persuaded me, not far behind me.
And believing it, I took a piece in my mouth.
"Only you swallow it right away." It's meat! – Looking wide- eyed at his friend, continued Kolya.
I made an effort and swallowed a boiled piece of pencil lard. Again, it hurt my heart to deceive Kolya, who was considered a friend. I could hardly restrain tears and nausea coming closer to my throat. I did not want to eat. A piece of fat was stuck in the throat with a nauseating obstacle. But such a fragrant fresh pea, green dill and cow's home oil from above in the soup. Favorite soup, now it seemed tasteless. And then the cook hooked:
– What do not you eat? Well, eat!
Taking advantage of the minute when she turned away, Kolya grabbed my plate of soup and splashed it under the table, then quickly put the empty in front of me. The cook went around the long table and again approached us:
– Well, that's a fine fellow. Addition take?
– No, I do not want to. – I mumbled.
"Well, here, drink compote!" She set before me a faceted glass of pear compote, smelling of smoke. I drained the glass in a moment, the drink seemed so delicious after a portion of boiled, disgusting fat. It seemed to give me a bucket of compote, at that memorable moment, half a bucket would probably have drunk. But the portions were strictly limited.
The nausea was coming up. There was a pounding in his temples. Red butterflies fluttered before my eyes, my breath nearly stopped. With a feeling of disgust, I looked around and saw opposite the laughing face of Coley. The boy rejoiced. The mockery was successful, the feeling of the winner shone in his self- satisfied smirk.
At that moment I wanted to run home to my Friends, a red cockerel and a dog named Marsik, to my beloved cow, Zorka, and to the grumbling grandmother of Evgenia Lavrentievna.
I got out of the table. Nausea intensified, my heart beat faster, my temples pounding. Staggering, I, like a drunk, staggered to the washstand. There I was groaning. Fatty disgusting slices of fat, along with gastric juice, relieved the stomach .. The contents of the stomach splashed out in the washbasin of the washbasin, easing the overall condition. Kolya, pleased with himself, ran to the courtyard, where there was a fun game. I washed and rubbed my face with a towel, my well- being improved significantly, my giddiness passed, and I ran towards the cheerful voices of the children. In the courtyard I was greeted by the din of children's voices. The game was in full swing. Who sculpted grandmothers in the sandbox, who fought for molds and sand sovochki. Who collected in a flower bed, where, by the way, it was forbidden to do this, flowers, while Aunt Olya saw off my grandmother. But only she turned in the direction of the children, all the children were playing innocently. The pranks were instantly forgotten. Terrible – a teacher with a punishing stalk of luxurious nettles, was a respected and terrible face for children's perception. I joined a group of boys who were busy with a wooden swing, outwardly somewhat reminiscent of a giant paperweight painted with blue paint, which had succeeded where to peel off. The children paid no attention to me. Two of them were sitting in the seat on the left, and the three of them were swaying with pleasure. From an unequal weight, the swing jumped and almost did not swing.
– Hey! Let me show you Moscow! "I suddenly suggested.
"How?" The boys shouted almost in chorus.
– Very simple. Let's get into the seat alone, and you all sit in front of me and lift me high up to the clouds. The children cried together. I climbed onto the seat alone, all five climbed opposite, and I was raised high above the courtyard of the kindergarten, above the flower bed, over the children.
"Well, see Moscow?" Asked the blond boy, with wide- open blue eyes.
– I see! I replied authoritatively.
– Anu- ka, show me! " – all amicably rushed to me, and" paperweight ", threw me down, rolling in my direction.
– Well, what have you done?! I now do not see anything.
But the game began to flow in a new channel. About Moscow, all forgotten, starting to play in
"Kwacha" (in catch- up, who caught up with the others, he and Kwacha). For fun games, I forgot about the punishment, but it waited for me, threatening an unexpected revenge for disobeying my grandmother.
A teacher Olya suddenly appeared:
– Don't play enough?! – called my aunt Olya.
After breakfast, the aunt Olya, full and clumsy from her fullness, led the children into an oak grove on soft velvety grass. She spread the blanket under the thick, knobby trunk of the old oak, placed her fat body on him, and began her daily occupation, knitting blouses or darn stockings.
"Wreath!" She called with venomous notes in her voice. "You're punished today; you will not play." Sit here and do not go anywhere.
What could be more terrible for the most terrible punishment for a restless boy, how to sit next to a fat teacher, suffocating choking afterwards, clogging your breath, when there is a cheerful game right here next to your eyes. Loses the game, which breaks all my soul, and the severity of the prohibition does not allow to give pleasure, then the game becomes a hundred times more attractive than it really is. And this is the world of adults. What can be more boring than this world? Do adults really do not understand the hearts of little people, because the prohibitions in this my age bring up the deception and cunning of the little ones. So sitting next to Aunt Olya, I philosophically reflected. And sad thoughts plunged me into the jungle of reasoning that adults can only stimulate the child to play in the resolution, and the ban only tightens the soul, pushes the crime.
"Wreath!" Called the boy, bored with boredom, a skinny and frail peer. His wide open gray- blue eyes, looked innocent. The smile was affable and kind, and the upturned nose made the whole facial expression infinitely naive. He began to entice me with his gestures. The teacher at this time, snuffling, already nodded, somehow managing to sleep sitting, not leaning back on the trunk of an oak. I stood up cautiously, tiptoed over the oak.
What do you want, Pelvic?
– Come on, play in catch up with.
– And who will say?
"No one will say." Pavlik assured. I did not have to persuade me for a long time. I ran fun to meet the game of boys and girls. To meet the merry wind, not hearing the voice of the teacher. When Pavlik stopped me, it dawned on me:
– This is for you now! You're punished?! Anu ka come here!
And I, having lowered my head, wandered to the side of the calling aunt Oli. Lena Ochkolyas smiled sullenly beside the teacher. The educator's right hand was already holding her right hand behind her, an unkind sign for me. I approached cautiously, watching this hand hidden behind me. It can be seen that something very unpleasant there, and Lenya Ochkolyas awaits a terribly pleasant sight. It is not difficult to guess who handed me over and obligingly brought the stalk of nettle to the teacher. When I approached the distance of the teacher's outstretched hand, this something, as I guessed, turned out to be the burning nettles that rustled in the air, sinking to the ankles under the sweet wild laughter of Leni Ochkolyas. Tears of resentment and grief appeared on my face, I silently wept, scratching my swollen red bumps on my legs.
– Ah, what, got it?! – wailed, joyfully grinning Ochkolyas. This boy grew up in a large family. He was my peer, and was the most fragile little and sickly boy of all the boys in the kindergarten. Thin legs and a big belly made his figure comical, obscuring even the puppet features, and always a malicious smile and a tendency to talk about all the tricks of the boys made him a whore. I began to feel hurt not so much at the teacher, as in the slander of Lenya Ochkolyas, who not only talked about his unauthorized absence, but what I was sure of, even brought a gun to punishment, nettles. And now, smiling, was happy with the torments of his victim. I wanted at these moments of humiliation to run far from everyone, to huddle, wherever to the dark corner, hide and stay alone. I vividly remembered the house. The cockerel, from which I received blows and did not take offense at all, because the cockerel was never a close friend. He was an enemy friend and nothing more. And Lenya Ochkolyas was able to be both. This sowed distrust of Lena as a friend and did not evoke feelings of anger and a desire to win as an enemy. The only feeling that Lenya conjured up in my imagination was a feeling of pity born when my mother told me how she had worked for the collective farm administration so that the large family of the Ochkolyas, who had five children, built a house. As the family of the collective farm of the deceased at the hands of the bandits, who appeared after the amnesty. She told me about the horrible conditions in which the Ochkolyasis live. In a tiny hut, covered with straw, with an earthen floor, hastily molded, after the burnt to the sound of a good house. Mom also told about the difficulties of a young woman, Lena’s mother, who was left alone with her children.
The innate envy of the well- off, as it seemed to him, children, gave rise to hatred and anger in the soul, wounded by poverty.
By dinner, the burning of the toes had subsided and almost did not bother. The mood gradually returned to me, and already laughing happily, I paced the children in the ranks, substituting the footsteps of Ponomarenko Kolya, a fat and slow- moving little boy… The next day I went to the kindergarten alone without my grandmother. My grandmother refused to take me to the kindergarten. And to the mother's remark, she answered:
"He knows the way and can walk by himself." Not small, he will soon be six years old, let him learn! – to which the mother answered.
– It's small. And wander where?
– Do not wander, not great loss! And I would have drowned the Inquiry then I would not have suffered? – Mother swallowed the insult in silence, and already asked affectionately, if I know the way. I could tell you how to go to kindergarten. Mother affirmatively agreed. And this is the first time I left my house on my own in the morning. The road was park. Ahead in the bushes I saw Lyonya Ochkolyas, who stealthily looking around, looking for something there. He did not see me, and I, rejoicing that I would go more than one to the kindergarten, called him:
– Hey, Lionka, you wrote there, or what?! Let's go to kindergarten? – Lenya, frightened and displeased looking at me.
– Go wherever you go. – Answered not friendly Ochkolyas.
I approached him closer. And only now I saw that he was looking for a suitable stalk of nettles for the teacher, so that she would scourge the children with this instrument of punishment, and Lenya would, with her, as always, deserve to enjoy great trust and favor. I waited a little longer for him, but, afraid of being late, I left alone. When I entered the playground and began to examine the children swarming in the sandbox, Aunt Olya appeared from behind the corner of the sleeping building. She called me to her and said:
– Walik, tell me, surely something in the woods has died, that you and your grandmother are not late today in the kindergarten? – the teacher had a good mood and she spoke these words with a good- natured smile, showing even and white teeth. I looked puzzled into her mouth, replying:
– It in the kindergarten something is dead, so it stinks in the kitchen that already there is nothing to breathe. – I said these words, without hesitation, stinks there or not, but the remark of the educator has penetrated me with its infinitely pejorative form of treatment in relation to my grandmother, who was my friend. In a flash, Aunt Olya smiled, as if someone had erased from the face. She blushed, did not answer. She turned and walked nervously behind the kindergarten's sleeping building toward the dining room. Soon from the dining room were heard the hysterical cries of the teacher who came here to the playground:
– What are your rosella, ah?! I'm Klava, are you asking?! – Aunt Oli's voice was heard. My remark ended in a fit for the poor cook. Which was justified, telling that she had poisoned the rats, and that some probably died under. wooden kitchen flooring and stinks there. Soon Lenya Ochkolyas appeared on the playground. In his hands he held, like a rod, a high stalk of nettles, tall in height, with a thick and strong stalk and large saw tooth leaves. On his face there was a solemn smile of the performed of the teacher and his cot mother, Aunt Olya. And in the dining room at this time the cook, Aunt Klava, after the morning catching up, nervously tapping the dishes, gave the children food for breakfast…
"Look, he's started biting!"
– Yes, the case went on to the amendment. And yet, I will never refuse to take him to us.
"Another well- wisher are dreaming about this, except for you."
