USSR (an excerpt from the novel by Vladimir Kozlov)
"...The Soviet people have suffered a terrible loss," the radio announcer was saying. "The General Secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party and Chairman of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR--Konstantin Ustinovich Chernenko--has passed away today at age 75.
"They're dropping like flies," said papa.
Mama shot him a glance.
"Don't talk like that. Just in case..."
"Just in case...what? Why are you always so scared of everything? You're exactly like your mother. Well, at least you can understand with her...she saw different times. And also, I didn't say anything bad! I just told it like it is. That's already the third general secretary in two and a half years, maybe less. Am I wrong?"
Mama didn't respond.
I pushed away my plate and got up from the table.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome," said Mama.
"Did you do your homework?" asked Papa.
I nodded.
"What's with you all of a sudden?" Mama looked at Papa. "You were never interested before..."
Papa shrugged. On the radio, tedious music began to play.
***
During the first lesson of the day--algebra--the head teacher dropped by our class. Our math teacher got up and went over to the window.
"You all, of course, have heard about what happened yesterday," said the head teacher. "This is a great loss, and the entire Soviet nation is in mourning. But we should not relax because of this; our enemies do not sleep and would be glad to use this opportunity for all kinds of provocations, including aggression against our country. Tomorrow, on the day of Konstantin Ustinovich's burial, classes are cancelled..."
"Yay! A day off!" cried Kuzmenok.
"Now stop that, Sergei! First of all, it isn't a day off - it's simply a day without classes. And second, it is blasphemous to be happy when the whole nation is experiencing this terrible grief. I want you to recognize this. So, tomorrow there won't be any classes, but I recommend that you all remain at home and don't travel anywhere, because, as I have already said, in the case of a provocation by our enemies, an evacuation is possible..."
"What does that mean?" asked Nevedomtseva.
"It means that in the event that a threat arises, part of the population--beginning with children and the elderly--may be removed from the city on special trains..."
"And where will we be going?" asked Nevedomtseva.
"Lena, first listen to everything I have to say, and then ask questions, alright? I am trying to explain to you that an evacuation is theoretically possible, but that doesn't mean that it is actually going to take place. It is simply necessary that you know about this possibility and are prepared for it, so that an evacuation doesn't catch you off-guard. And now I need to take four boys and four girls for the honor guard at the memorial assembly. So, who has a clean shirt on?"
***
By the gym wall, which had soccer gates drawn on it, a portrait of Chernenko stood on a chair. One of its corners was tied with a black ribbon. I stood on the left side of the portrait, and Lozovskaya stood on the right. We both stood at attention with the pioneer salute. Along the three remaining walls stood the classes from fifth to tenth grade. In the center of the gym, the director gave his speech:
"In these days, which are difficult for the whole Soviet people, your actions should include studying even harder and seizing knowledge--because knowledge is strength. And this same strength will help you to protect our homeland from enemies and reach the highest degree of success in the fight for our main goal: the building of a communist society..."
My right hand was getting numb, I could hardly hold it up. I didn't know how much time was left until the changing of the guard. I started slowly to move my hand to the right and then to the left. That made it a little better.
The meeting ended. The students, shoving each other, left the gym. Someone laughed loudly. The head teacher came running up to me.
"What were you doing - trying to embarrass me in front of the whole school? What kind of salute was that? Why were you moving your hand side to side?"
"My hand got tired....I couldn't hold it up anymore, and there was no changing of the guard for a long time."
"That's the last time you'll get such a privilege from me."
[…]
Vaskovskaya from 10B came out on stage. She was in the school parade uniform - a dress with white apron, cuffs and collar. They probably told her to dress this way, since she was leading the evening. Everyone else arrived in street clothes.
"We continue our Evening of International Friendship. A student from Chad, Didier Bragda, will now perform a new dance called 'break dance.'"
Kuzmenok and I were sitting in the corner by the wall. We had crawled into the school through a window in the bathroom on the first floor: they only let students from eighth grade and above in.
The music began, and a short African with close-cropped hair came out on stage. He was wearing loose-fitting black jeans and a little red jacket.
I had seen "break dancing" on television, on the program "Under 16 and Older." The African danced similarly, only he didn't spin around on his back. Besides him, they had invited about 15 foreign students from technical schools--Africans, Arabs, and Vietnamese. In front of the audience, two Vietnamese boys and a Vietnamese girl sang a song, and two Arabs danced their national dance.
That year, Uncle Zhora had told Natasha and I that Vietnamese people's favorite dish was cooked dog, and that he tried it when he visited a friend in one of the dorms of technical school #4 . He said it was tasty, like chicken. Natasha wrinkled her nose and said that she would never eat dog, even if she were dying of hunger. Uncle Zhora replied, that she would never have guessed from the taste that it was dog.
The rows of stools were pushed against the walls. The disco started. The foreigners danced in their own circle off to one side. Kuzmenok and I joined up with the guys from 8A. Kuzmenok had entered first grade with them, but was held back and ended up in our grade.
There was a slow dance. The Vietnamese boy danced with the Vietnamese girl, and one of the Africans asked Vaskovskaya to dance. She had already changed into jeans and a lilac jacket. He said something to her, and she listened and smiled.
In the hall, there was shouting. Kuzmenok and I left the assembly hall. The principal and the physical education teacher, Timur, were holding an African - the one who had been "break-dancing." About 15 guys were crowded around him. Gurlovich from eighth grade was getting up off the ground. He had a bloody nose. He wiped it with a crumpled handkerchief.
"He started it," said the African with an accent. "He jumped me. It's not my fault."
"Go on, get out. If you can't conduct yourself properly at the dance, then go home," The principal pushed the African toward the stairs.
"And you..." he turned toward Gurlovich, "We'll deal with you separately. Come to my office on Monday."
The math teacher loudly whispered into the ear of Dolgobrodova, the German teacher:
"There's something unpleasant about all this...I don't know exactly what. I just can't imagine how our girl can lay in bed with one of them...And then they bear children from this, bear children. And what awaits that child in kindergarten and school?"
Translated by Allison Gianneschi