Goals

GOALS: Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Secrets in the Shadows

The days turned into weeks, and Nastya found herself slowly but surely adapting to life in New Orleans. The city's rhythm, once overwhelming, became a familiar beat she could almost dance to. Her English improved, and she began to make friends beyond Lily, though she always kept her distance, unsure of who to trust.

One Friday evening, after soccer practice, Nastya found herself lingering in the school's gym, reluctant to go home. The tension between her aunt and uncle had only worsened, and the atmosphere in the house was suffocating. Irina had become more withdrawn, her once bright eyes dull with worry. Viktor, on the other hand, was more volatile than ever, his moods swinging from charm to anger without warning.

As Nastya was lacing up her sneakers, ready to head home, she heard a voice behind her.

"Still here, Russia?"

She turned to see Jack leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, watching her with that infuriating grin of his. He was dressed in his soccer gear, a bit disheveled from practice but still annoyingly handsome.

"None of your business, Sullivan," she replied, though without the venom she usually reserved for him.

Jack chuckled and walked over to her, sitting on the bench beside her. "You know, most people would kill to live in a city like this. But you...you seem like you're running from something."

Nastya stiffened, her fingers tightening around her laces. "What makes you think you know anything about me?"

"I don't. But I can see it in your eyes. You're carrying something heavy." Jack's voice softened, and for a moment, the cockiness faded, replaced by something more genuine. "You don't have to tell me, but...you don't have to do it alone either."

Nastya stared at him, caught off guard by the sudden vulnerability in his tone. For a moment, she considered telling him everything—the fear she felt at home, the secrets she sensed swirling around her family, the loss that still haunted her every night. But the walls she had built around herself were strong, and she wasn't ready to let them down. Not yet.

"I'm fine," she said finally, standing up and grabbing her bag. "Thanks, but I can handle my own problems."

Jack didn't push further. Instead, he simply nodded, a look of understanding passing between them. "Alright, Russia. But if you ever change your mind...you know where to find me."

As Nastya walked home, she couldn't shake the feeling that Jack was right—she was running from something. But what scared her more was the thought that she might be running toward something even darker.

That night, Nastya sat in her room, the sounds of New Orleans filtering in through the open window. She could hear the distant hum of jazz music, the laughter of people on the streets, and the occasional honk of a car horn. But inside the house, it was eerily quiet.

She was about to get ready for bed when she heard the soft murmur of voices coming from downstairs. Curious, she crept to the top of the stairs and listened.

It was Irina and Viktor. They were arguing, but their voices were low, almost as if they didn't want to be heard.

"You said you'd stop," Irina was saying, her voice trembling. "You promised, Viktor. We can't keep living like this."

"Irina, I'm doing this for us, for our future. You have to trust me," Viktor replied, his tone sharp.

"Trust you? How can I trust you when you won't even tell me the truth? I know you're hiding something. This...this isn't what we agreed on when we left Russia."

There was a pause, and then Viktor's voice, colder now. "You don't know what you're talking about. Stop asking questions you don't want the answers to."

Nastya's heart pounded in her chest. What were they talking about? What was Viktor hiding?

She leaned in closer, desperate to hear more, but just as she did, a floorboard creaked beneath her foot. The voices downstairs fell silent.

"Nastya?" Irina called up the stairs, her voice laced with tension. "Is that you?"

Panicking, Nastya quickly backed away from the stairs and slipped back into her room, closing the door behind her. She pressed her back against the door, her mind racing.

What was Viktor involved in? And why was Irina so afraid?

That night, Nastya hardly slept. She tossed and turned, the conversation replaying in her mind. She knew she couldn't confront her uncle directly—he was too unpredictable, too dangerous. But she couldn't ignore what she'd heard either.

The next morning, as she was getting ready for school, Irina appeared in her doorway. Her aunt looked tired, the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced than ever.

"Nastya," Irina said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, "we need to talk."

Nastya's stomach tightened. "About what?"

Irina glanced over her shoulder, as if making sure they were alone. "About Viktor. About what's really going on."

Nastya nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She had a feeling this conversation would change everything.

But before Irina could say more, the front door slammed open, and Viktor's voice echoed through the house.

"Irina! Nastya! Where are you?"

Irina's eyes widened in fear, and she grabbed Nastya's arm. "We'll talk later. Just...just be careful, Nastya. Please."

With that, Irina hurried out of the room, leaving Nastya standing there, a cold knot of fear twisting in her stomach.

As she walked to school that day, Nastya felt a sense of unease she couldn't shake. The city, usually so vibrant and alive, felt different—darker, more dangerous. She couldn't help but feel like she was being watched, though she saw no one following her.

When she arrived at school, she found Lily waiting for her at their usual spot by the lockers. Lily greeted her with a smile, but it quickly faded when she saw Nastya's expression.

"What's wrong?" Lily asked, concern in her eyes.

Nastya hesitated. She wanted to tell Lily everything, but the words wouldn't come. "Nothing. Just...a rough night."

Lily frowned but didn't push. "Well, if you ever want to talk, I'm here. And don't forget—there's that party at Jack's place tonight. You're coming, right?"

Nastya had forgotten about the party. She wasn't in the mood for socializing, but something in Lily's eyes made her nod. "Yeah, I'll be there."

"Great!" Lily's smile returned. "It'll be fun, I promise. And who knows? Maybe you'll finally get Jack to stop calling you Russia."

Nastya forced a smile, though her mind was still preoccupied with thoughts of Viktor and Irina.

That evening, as the sun set over the city, Nastya found herself standing in front of Jack's house. The party was in full swing, the sound of laughter and music spilling out into the street. She took a deep breath and stepped inside, determined to push the day's events out of her mind.

But even as she tried to lose herself in the crowd, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen, something that would shatter the fragile balance she had found in New Orleans.

And she was right. Because that night, in the most unexpected of ways, Nastya's life would take a turn that no one—least of all her—could have seen coming.