II: The Girl Who Ran: Little Monsters

1938- USSR

"The States are gonna join the war, T. I know it, " the boy sat on the roof, looking down at the cars with his elbows on his knees. He picked at the starched cuffs of his shirt. He had taken off his polished shoes and thrown them behind him, and the soft spring air blew past his feet.

A girl sat to his left, no more than seven years old. She spoke in Russian with a sharpness that belied her soft brown eyes, "You don't know that. And, by the way, you need to work on your accent. You sound ridiculous."

He turned to her, frowning, "It's not that bad, and don't change the subject. When the States go to war, I'm probably going to be drafted. Then I'll have to leave Steve and who knows what he'll do while I'm gone." The boy ran his hand through his hair and stared at the girl. Her shoulders were hunched and thin under a threadbare shirt. She kneaded her hands, obviously trying to massage the stiffness from her joints. Her cheekbones caught the fading light as she turned to look back at him.

"Believe me, Cousin. Your country will probably stay out of this war. Anyway, I appreciate that you and Rebecca came to Babushka's funeral. I know how hard it is to get anywhere these days."

He shrugged, "It's the least we could do. I mean, Becky inheirited all of our parent's stuff, and now she wants to be an international aid person. I just tagged along." He paused for a minute, looking down again at the passing cars, "Don't you want to get out of here?"

He heard her sigh and felt her lean back, "I would love to. I would love to just drop everything and leave right now. But what then? Who would protect Timofei?"

"I don't know. But you could always come back with us. I'm sure we could get papers for you or something," he tapped a rhythm out on his thigh.

The girl nudged him with her shoulder, "And here I thought you were a righteous American who never caused trouble." The boy rolled his eyes as she continued, her young voice dropping in volume, "I have this feeling, Cousin. Like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff on a windy day, and all it would take is one gust," she snapped her fingers, "and I would fall."

The boy chuckled, "You're only six, T. You don't need to act like you're sixty-three. Stop being so serious."

She nodded and smiled mockingly, "You are seventeen and you act five. One of us has to be the mature one."

He shoved her head and she caught his hand, hugging his arm with her whole little body, the smile falling off her face, "Trust me, Cousin. I will not be kept here forever. I want to go all over the world! So there is no need to worry."

He laughed, trying to shake her off his arm without throwing her onto the road three floors below, "See! That's exactly what I mean!" He ruffled her hair and she rolled her eyes.