Simon
He was dreaming. It was his birthday, and there was cake. And a bike. The one he had seen in Mr. Afonin's shop. It was shiny and blue, like the sky, and there was a little bell that went "ding" when he pressed it. Then Misha was there, wanting to ride the bike. But it was his, Semyon's, and he didn't want Misha to take it. Misha takes everything. He tried to fight, but Misha started shaking him, and Misha was so much bigger….
It's a dream, Semyon thought. I will just wake up and Misha will be gone. He tried to remember what Mama had taught him and felt himself swimming back towards consciousness. He was proud of himself. The last time he had a nightmare, his little sister had to wake him up. That was embarrassing.
He opened his eyes. It was dark, like he expected, but he was confused. Why was Misha still here, shaking him? "Wake up, Syoma!" No, not Misha. Mama.
"Mama? What's going on?"
"Love, we have to go now – can you go help Zarushka?"
"Go where?" He felt himself panic. Something was very wrong. His mother's voice was calm as ever, but he found himself looking at her, the way she had taught him to observe everyone around them. In the dim light streaming through the windows by his bed, her shoulders were slightly tensed. "Why are you so nervous?"
"Syoma…." She looked at him. He knew the exact moment she decided to tell him the truth – or as much truth as she could. "We have to leave Russia, sweetheart."
"But why?"
"Syoma, I promise we'll tell you as much as we can later. But now, you need to trust me. Get dressed; get your pack; and get your sister. Can you do that for me?"
He didn't respond but swung out of the bed. "Good boy," his mother said. "Do it as quietly and as quickly as you can." Then she hurried out of the room.
Syoma crept across the room to Zarya's side of the room. Her eyes were tightly closed. Too tightly closed. "Zarushka," he whispered. "I know you are awake. We have to go."
"I don't want to," she whispered.
"Listen, Zarushka. It will be fun. Like an adventure in your books."
She opened her eyes and gave him a scathing glance. "I am six years old. I am not a baby. You don't have to lie to me."
"Well then, get up."
Her lips trembled but she pushed off the covers and scrambled out of bed.
"Shh," Semyon scolded. "We have to be quiet as mice, mice that have adventures and don't get caught!"
Zarya looked at him. "Syoma," she said quietly, "I like my adventures to stay in the books." "I know," Semyon signed. "Me too."
When they were both dressed, Semyon led Zarushka out of their room. Papa and Mama were at their door, carrying a steamer trunk between them. Papa smiled at him, but Semyon could see the anxiety in his eyes. He loves Papa, but Semyon knew that Mama was the one you can count on in a crisis. He watched as Papa checked his watch – not for the first time, Semyon could tell.
"When did they say they would be here?"
"Sasha. I told you. Another 15 minutes."
Semyon winced, even though he thought he hid it pretty well. He hated it when Papa and Mama fought. It was all because of that man, he thought. The man Papa was with at the market a month ago. He and Mama weren't even supposed to be at the market, except that they needed pepper because Zarushka had poured out the whole jar of pepper on the floor so she could make a beach for her dolls to sunbath. When Semyon had seen Papa he had wanted to go over, but Mama had held him back. And Semyon had known then it was something serious because Mama looked as pale as he had ever seen her.
Then came the hushed fights. Mama calling Papa selfish – "Do you know what you have done?" Her voice had shook. "It's not just about you. It's me too, and Syoma and Zarushka." His father, angry and pleading by turn. "Katya, Katya, you have to understand. It's impossible for me here." The fights finally stopped two weeks ago, but now there is always sadness in his mother's eyes. And all that have led to this moment: he and the three people he loved most in the world, huddled around an old steamer trunk.
Semyon felt a sob rise in his throat. He tried to swallow it, ducking his head to hide his expression. Mama was there in a flash though. He could never hide anything from her.
"Listen love. There is nothing to worry about. You know that Papa and I will always protect you, don't you? You and Zarushka?"
That is true, he thought. Mama was the smartest and strongest person he knew. Smarter and stronger even than Uncle Hector, who worked with Mama and was almost as good as she is in figuring out what he was thinking before he thought it. But….
"You don't have your special pack, Mama. When you go on your trips you always have the special pack. Remember? You told me that keeps you safe."
"I know, sweetheart. But I don't need the pack now. We needed more things because we are all going on this trip – you and I and Papa and Zarushka. So I got this steamer trunk instead. This has the things that will protect you three too, not just me."
He looked at the steamer trunk with new eyes. It didn't look any different than before, just an old, battered steamer trunk. Nothing like the sleek black pack that Mama carried on her trips.
He looked back at her and Papa doubtfully. Did they think that he was a baby like Zarushka that needed to be comforted with lies?
"Truly, love." Mama's hand found his as Papa reached out to Mama and Zarushka, linking all of them together. "There is nothing to worry about. We will be protected."
Semyon looked hard into his mother's eyes. There were no tell-tale signs of a lie. And Semyon was comforted.