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Anton, my parents translator, was a student at Kharkov University. He brought me flowers on my first day of school and I fancied myself in love with him for the week after. I was still 13 and was very ready to fall in love or be fallen in love with. The whole them-liking me thing hadn’t worked out just yet, so I was more than happy to daydream one-sidedly. I remember seeing him coming out the window and hoped beyond hope that the flowers were for me, this would be my first bouquet! Then my mom had to tell him that my sister was starting school too so the flowers had to be for BOTH of us so she didn’t get her feelings hurt. What a downer. But I clung to the fact that they had been bought with ME in mind. I probably told her that too…
I was very nervous to start school at the American ACE Academy where my sister, brother and I were the only Americans. I pouted at the ugly uniform, a purpley, wool, handmade concoction that was unflattering on any body type. I had to wear a white shirt underneath, with tights and closed toed shoes. I dressed it up with a large, poofy white bow in my hair. I was always such the style queen. Katy’s was cuter, a burgundy jumper that had pleats and was to the knees instead of half-way down the calf like mine was. She also had to wear tights and close toed shoes though. We were both jealous of Drew who just had to wear a white shirt and slacks.
Since it was an American school after all and I’m sure as a gesture of good will to the American students, below the ACE flag proudly hanging on the high wall, there was an American flag next to an Ukrainian one. They would play a crackly record with the very dramatic Ukrainian national anthem song on it and we were suppose to sing along. I became inexplicably fiercely patriotic and would not put my hand over my heart for their song. When we said the pledge, I would somewhat loudly say “THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA” over their softer voices uttering “Ukraine” in perfect unison.
The school had recently been created and most of the children were about 8 and under (and mafia children). The obvious exception was myself, the principal’s daughter Olga, and her best friend Natasha who were both my age and thus my friends. The other exceptions were Mike and Kate who were 2-3 years younger than me. Kate was then Katy’s automatic friend, and Mike, Drews, though he preferred to loiter at my desk. All of us had our own section of cubicles, separate from the 30 or so younger students. The cubicles were similar to what the bad children had to sit in back home. Each desk had three sides around you so you couldn’t be distracted by your classmates. If you needed anything, i.e. water, bathroom or a question on your work, you had several flags to choose from to post at the top of your wall. I remember that I had a small American flag and a white one that said ACE or something. The whole posting flags for needs thing only lasted a short while, we were soon getting up and walking over to the teachers to tell them what we needed. Bratty Americans!
Katy was a little OCD at 9 years of age and kept her desk immaculate. She would carefully organize her pencils, erasers, and anything else, to the point where she’d hate to even use something because it’d mess up the perfection. Kind of like when she used to make her bed really nice and then not get in the covers so she wouldn’t mess it up. Really. She’d lay still the whole night and when she woke up the next morning, voila! A nicely made bed ready for the day! So, obviously, the best way to irritate her to great extremes was to run over to her desk and knock over her plastic organizer. Which we did. Nearly on a daily basis. and it wasn’t just us, Mike and Kate would join in the fun, then there was the retaliatory fun of trying to get the person back while they played defense in front of their desk.
When Drew was just learning to speak, he’d say his name was “Katy and Drew” because almost every time his name was called, it’d usually be in plural form with Katy’s name attached. Oh the joys of being a twin. They were still each others shadow but they were beginning to branch out more. Drew was hanging out with the Ukrainian boys at school and Katy and Kate were either on or off, usually due to the fact that Kate ate rye bread and fat sandwiches which she was convinced was the best thing in the world and Katy voiced all of our opinions that they were disgusting. I mean, this was literally a brick of white, greasy fat that they would slice like cheese and make sandwiches with. “It’s good for you!” I remember Kate’s adamant, genuine plea to us trying in vain to get us to take a bite.
I felt like the third wheel of the friendship between Olga, Natasha and I. They had been friends for years and I felt like an intruder especially when they’d speak rapid-fire Russian. A cool third wheel, both of them wanted to be my friend too and although I was flattered, I still felt left out. I was an artist, but Olga was better and I was jealous. When we were done with school, we would both draw elaborate pictures depicting the other students and varying antics we would all get into. Olga was beautiful, more outgoing and lived closer to me so we ended paired up more often. I think that Natasha also felt like a third wheel.