In the morning, Yulia woke up to the sound of the alarm clock and, as usual, went to stoke the stove and then to wake up her sisters. She didn’t disturb her mother—ever since their father left for his mistress, her mother had stopped getting up in the mornings.
The father’s mistress was named Zoya. She worked as an accountant at the local council, wore high heels, and applied shiny pink lip gloss.
Her daughter was just the same—she went to school in short skirts, wore heavy black eyeliner, even when the deputy principal sent her home immediately to remove that mess, and hung out with Semyon Petrov, the biggest heartthrob at school. Her name was Anzhelika, and since fifth grade, she and Yulia had harbored a certain animosity toward each other: both were good students, both played volleyball and could have been friends and a real team, but instead, it turned out the opposite.
Ever since her father packed his shirts and ties into a large checkered bag along with a collection of ‘Around the World’ magazines and moved in with that Zoya, Anzhelika openly mocked Yulia. And most of their classmates didn’t think to stop her—it’s always pleasant to laugh at someone else, especially when it’s not at you. Moreover, Anzhelika had an older brother, Edik, who had recently returned from the army, and he had almost broken Sasha Kazakov’s arm just because he called Anzhelika a rude word.
At first, Yulia tried to stand up for herself, she wasn’t afraid of Edik, but when after their fight with Anzhelika, her mother was called into school, and had to stand next to Zoya and listen to her nasty remarks, Yulia decided she had to endure. After that visit, her mother didn’t get out of bed for three days, just when she had started to recover and even began to smile again. So Yulia endured, not wanting her mother to be called in again.
“My tights are torn!” complained her younger sister Dasha, and Yulia went to find some intact ones. Unable to find any, she cautiously knocked on her mother’s door. Her mother disliked being woken up, but there was nothing to be done—if Dasha got some idea in her head, it was trouble, so she had to at least stitch them.
That’s how Yulia found out that her mother was gone. The bed was made, all items in place, but the mother was not there. A bad premonition gripped Yulia—it had happened before, but a long time ago, even before Dasha was born.
There was no time to think about it. And there was no point in scaring the girls. Maybe the mother just got up early and went somewhere, and they didn’t hear? Yulia took a box with threads and needles and tiptoed out of the room.
“Let mom sew it,” Dasha sobbed.
“She’s asleep,” Yulia lied.
They were late to school—not only did they have to sew the tights, but overnight so much snow had fallen that their legs sank into the drifts, and Yulia had to nearly drag Dasha.
Yulia sat on pins and needles all day, and Anzhelika, as if to spite her, decided that today was the best day to show her wit: she commented on the knitted sweater taken off a scarecrow (a sweater that her mother had spent a whole month carefully knitting patterns into), and loudly asked who smelled so bad when Yulia walked by. When Yulia faltered and couldn’t recite a poem, Anzhelika loudly commented:
“Astakhova was studying psalms yesterday, she didn’t have time.”
Irka Tarasova, Anzhelika’s constant sidekick, rolled her eyes and started muttering some tune.
The whole class burst into laughter, and Yulia only clenched her fists, dreaming of hitting Anzhelika hard. Why did dad tell them about mom? Fine, he left, but why blabber left and right about his ex-wife? They weren’t even divorced yet. Yulia vowed never to get married for anything in the world!
“And no one asked you,” snapped Sima, who wasn’t afraid of her classmate’s wrath and was always on Yulia’s side. To her alone, Yulia confessed that her mother had disappeared.
“She’ll be found!” Sima promised. “Everything will be alright, you’ll see!”
Yulia walked home as if she were condemned to hard labor—something told her that her mother wouldn’t be there.
And so it was—the house stood unheated, chilled, only empty pots on the stove. Dasha was crying, Vera was trying to console her.
“Where’s mom?” Vera snapped. “We want to eat.”
Nothing to be done—she had to call her father. Yulia had never done this since he left.
“You don’t know where mom is?” she asked without even a greeting.
“How would I know,” her father replied irritably.
“She’s been missing since last night, it seems.”
Yesterday Yulia was first at additional mathematics, then at volleyball practice. When she came home, the girls said that mom was sleeping. By the time she ate, finished the household chores with Vera, did her homework, and helped the girls, it was already time to sleep. She didn’t disturb her mother—afraid to trouble her.
“Well, it’s not the first time,” her father dismissed. “She’ll have her fun and come back. Maybe she went to those people of hers.”
Yulia understood that she wouldn’t get any help here. Besides, her father was right; this had happened before—sometimes her mother just could leave the house without warning and wander somewhere for hours, and before Dasha was born, she used to go to the city every Friday for her religious community meetings. Dad really disliked this, and they fought a lot over it. But that was long ago—when Dasha was born, her mother was afraid to leave her unattended: she was sickly and would start suffocating at the slightest thing, she had stenosis. Moreover, her mother always warned when she would leave. But it seemed her father didn’t want to deal with it now, but who else could she turn to?
They had almost no relatives. There was some aunt, her father’s sister—second or third cousin. She sent gifts on birthdays and New Year’s, but the girls had never seen her; she never visited. There was a grandmother about whom nothing was known, and as Yulia understood when she got older, the grandmother was in a psychiatric hospital. Her parents mentioned her only when they fought—her father said that her mother belonged in the same place as her own mother. A few months ago, a letter arrived saying the grandmother had died. Yulia didn’t read the letter, but she thought that since someone wrote it, they might know her mother, perhaps some distant relative.
Entering her mother’s room without permission was frightening, but Yulia didn’t know what else to do.
The letter was found immediately—it lay on the nightstand under a wooden box. She took it out and carefully examined the envelope. The sender was listed as «Sergey Danilovich Rozhkov.» Looking around, as if her mother might enter at any moment, Yulia pulled out the sheet and read it.
At first, she didn’t understand anything, so she had to read it again. Even after that, she couldn’t believe what was written: it turned out that after her grandmother’s death, her mother had become the heir to a huge, by their standards, amount of money. Could this be possible? And why had her mother kept silent?
The letter also stated that her mother needed to claim the inheritance, and even a date was mentioned. Yulia vaguely remembered that around those dates her mother had gone to the city, never explaining the reason for her trip. So, maybe she had gone there for that reason now? Yulia felt a little reassured—of course, her mother just wanted to surprise them, so she hadn’t said anything. Now she would buy all sorts of things: books, clothes, sweets, and she would surely return.
She lied to her sisters—she told them that their mother had gone to the city on business. Dasha burst into tears, saying she wanted to be with mom, and Vera, it seemed, suspected something but didn’t ask.
Three days passed, and their mother still hadn’t returned. Every day, morning and evening, at the hour when the regular bus arrived, Yulia waited, holding her breath—now the door would swing open, and her mother would enter, flushed from the cold, with shiny happy eyes and bags full of gifts. But time passed, and her mother did not return. And Yulia called her father again.
«Do you know that grandma left mom some money? Do you think she might have gone away because of that? I mean, maybe she needs to arrange something?»
It seemed her father wasn’t surprised at all that her mother had received an inheritance. He was more surprised that she was still not back.
«Alright,» he said. «Tomorrow I’ll go to the police, let them sort it out.»
But they didn’t have to wait until tomorrow. That evening, Dasha’s teacher showed up.
«Where’s your mother?» she asked.
Yulia tried to lie, but the teacher immediately interrupted her.
«Dasha said that your mother left, and you’ve been living alone for several days, is that right?»
Yulia lowered her head.
«Yes.»
«And what about your father?»
Everyone in the village knew where their father was, what’s there to ask?
«Does he even know?»
At that moment, Yulia unexpectedly burst into tears.
«He knows,» she sobbed. «He said he’d go to the police tomorrow!»
That’s how everyone found out that Yulia’s mother was missing. The next day at school, everyone was whispering—it was good that the school counselor excused her from classes. But initially, Yulia thought that, and when she had to answer a bunch of questions in front of her father, and then people in uniform came to their house and searched everything, Yulia thought she would have been better off in class.
«She abandoned you!» Anzhelika declared the next day. «She got tired of looking at your plain faces!»
She was gloating so loudly over the whole situation that even for Anzhelika, it was a bit too much. And Yulia, reasonably deciding that she could no longer hold back, attacked her tormentor, scratching her face until it bled. If Irka Tarasova hadn’t pulled Yulia away, she would have hit Anzhelika even more.
«Edik will kill you!» Anzhelika screamed. «Just you wait, he won’t care that you’re a girl!»
Yulia ignored her words, gathered her bag, and left the last lesson, although Sima tried to stop her, urging her not to pay attention to that envious girl. She wasn’t afraid of Edik—he wouldn’t do anything to her. Even before the army, when he was eighteen and she was fourteen, he had asked to walk her home from a disco and tried to kiss her. She laughed then, and he got offended and said he loved her. Now, of course, he no longer loved her, but he likely wouldn’t fight her.
«Astakhova!»
Yulia turned around and saw Semyon running after her. Yulia frowned—if Edik wouldn’t hit her, Semyon might well stand up for his beauty.
«Wait!»
Semyon ran, awkwardly holding his backpack by the strap.
«It’s torn,» he lamented.
«What do you want?» Yulia asked grimly.
«I wanted to apologize. For Anzhelika. Don’t be mad at her, she didn’t think before she spoke. It’s hard to understand for those who’ve never experienced anything like this.»
Yulia looked at him as if he were an alien: Semyon apologizing? For Anzhelika? That couldn’t be…
«None of ours know—I have a foster mother. She adopted me, and my real mother died when I was four years old. So I understand you.»
«My mother isn’t dead!» Yulia screamed, pushed Semyon so he fell into the snow, and ran away.
She trembled slightly—a fine helper he turned out to be! Everything was fine with her mother!
Tears blurred her vision, and Yulia couldn’t see where she was running, nearly knocking over Granny Tosya.
«Have you seen my Apollos?»
Apollos—a mad bull, always escaping from his owner and causing a ruckus in the whole village.
«I haven’t seen him,» she managed to say and ran even faster before Granny Tosya could ask about her mother. But Granny Tosya didn’t ask, only made the sign of the cross.
When Edik came over in the evening, Yulia almost laughed—was he really going to stand up for his sister now? Well, let’s see.
Yulia stepped outside without a hat, throwing on her jacket to make it clear she wasn’t planning to spend much time on him.
«So, has Anzhelika already complained to you?» she smirked.
Edik shuffled his feet, looking at her from under his brow.
«She complained.»
«And what, you’re going to hit me?»
«Really? I came to tell you that I set that chicken’s brain straight. And if she does anything to you again, just let me know…»
Yulia lowered her eyes. It was awkward. After all, she wasn’t one to run and complain.
«I asked her to move in with me,» he said as if justifying himself. «I told her that if she stays, she’ll end up just like her. Drove our father to the grave, and it’s still not enough for her. But Anzhelika is foolish, doesn’t want to listen—her mother is perfect to her. No, don’t think—I mean, she’s good, not like her mother. Kind, caring. She was the only one who wrote to me while I was in the army. She seems tough on the outside. But you can’t survive otherwise with our mother.»
He spoke disjointedly, but all the while tried to catch Yulia’s gaze.
She didn’t know what to say, so she just kept silent.
«I told you I was against her living with your father. And I moved out immediately.»
Yes, such a conversation had already happened. But it was unnecessary—Yulia blamed no one but Zoya and her father. What did Edik and even Anzhelika have to do with it?
«Let’s drop it.»
«I’m going to apply to flight school in the summer, I’m just here because of Anzhelika, still hoping to get her away from her mother. I’m convincing her to go study far away, so she doesn’t have to come back here, to breathe in this poison.»
Yulia wanted to end this awkward conversation as soon as possible.
«I also wanted to ask—maybe you need any help? You’re on your own now, does your father at least come by?»
Her father hadn’t come, although he told the social worker he would move back home until his wife returned. But Yulia decided to lie.
«Yes, everything’s fine, thank you. Can I go?»
She was already turning away, but Edik caught her hand and said:
«Wait. Yulia, do you hate me now?»
«Hate you? Why?»
«Because of my mother. And because of Anzhelika.»
His fingers were warm, despite the fact that the frost had already nipped Yulia’s cheeks.
«No,» Yulia replied. «It’s all good. Really.»
«I love you.»
His words burned her like a slap. Yulia felt her cheeks flush. She pulled her hand free and ran into the house.
To distract herself, she went to her mother’s room and sat on her bed. It still smelled of her mother—eucalyptus oil, lavender, and old books. Where could she be? Yulia wondered if her father had told the police about where she used to go? Maybe her mother was there now? Yulia vaguely remembered from TV shows that her mother could have been deceived—coerced into giving her money to the needs of that society. She needed to find out, to check if she was there.
Yulia sighed and approached the nightstand where her mother kept various documents, books, and so forth. It was dishonest to rummage through them, but they had already been searched by others. So, she began methodically sifting through each document, hoping to find at least some clue.
And she found it. A book from that very religious community. It had an address on it—an address where it could be found.
Yulia had to call her father again. But this time, Zoya answered the phone.
«Stop calling here!» she snapped angrily and hung up.
But Yulia didn’t know who else to turn to. Should she call the police and ask if they had checked her mother’s old friends? Telling Vera to look after Dasha, she dressed and decisively went to the house where Zoya and her father lived.
It took about ten minutes of calling him before her father came out. He was grim, unhappy, constantly looking back at the house windows.
«What do you want?»
«Here. I found the address,» Yulia handed him the book. «Call the detective, ask if they have been there or not. Or we could go there ourselves to find out.»
«Have you lost your mind? Go home, it’s none of your business.»
Yulia felt tears welling up in her eyes.
«It’s your fault she left!» Yulia shouted.
At that moment, her father slapped her. The smack was loud, turning her head to the side.
«Get out of here! And don’t let me see you here again!»
Yulia ran home, swallowing tears that stung her cheeks.
«Astashova!»
What now—was he following her today?
Semen was chasing her again.
«Sorry, I accidentally overheard your conversation. I came for Anzhelika, and then you were there with Uncle Gena.»
«And what?» she cried out, wiping her face with her sleeve.
«Nothing. Just wanted to offer help.»
Unexpectedly, Yulia laughed.
«And how can you help?»
«I can go with you.»
Yulia wanted to say it was nonsense. But unexpectedly, she asked:
«Really?»
«Really. I’ll take some money from my dad, we’ll get on a bus and go. Is it far?»
«No.»
«Well then. We can go on Sunday. The girls can stay home alone, right?»
«They’ll manage.»
It was strange. Why was he suddenly offering to help her? Anzhelika would kill him for this!
«Alright, it’s settled. Let’s go, I’ll walk you.»
Yulia wanted to remind him that he was supposed to be looking for Anzhelika, but decided to let it be. If that was how she treated him, then Yulia wouldn’t make a fuss. She walked ahead, slightly shaking her head as if to say, «Let’s go.» And Semen followed, trying to keep pace with Yulia, who quickened her steps.
«Sorry for what I said today. I didn’t mean that about your mom… I just know it’s scary when everything is so uncertain. And I want to help you.»
Yulia almost said: why such generosity? But she kept silent. She also suspected that Anzhelika might have sent him to set her up for something nasty. But she didn’t want to think that—Semen seemed sincere.
«My mom is alive, I feel it,» said Yulia. «Probably, she really did go there—long before Dasha was born, she always used to go there. And now, since Dad left…»
«Sorry, but maybe it’s good that he left. Anzhelika says he always scolded her. That’s how she is at school, but at home, her mother, you know, bosses her around. And now your father too.»
Yes, Yulia knew—her father was always dissatisfied with everything. And sometimes she caught herself thinking that it was better without him. Better for everyone except her mom.
When they reached her house, Yulia wanted to say goodbye and leave quickly—she was cold, overwhelmed by everything, but Semen blocked her way. And, without a word, suddenly kissed her.
Her first impulse was to push him away. Not that she didn’t like him—Semen was liked by everyone. But he was Anzhelika’s boyfriend. And to act like Anzhelika’s mother, Yulia did not want to.
But then she remembered all the nasty things her classmate had done to her. And thought—here was a chance to get back at her. To start an affair with her boyfriend. And she didn’t push him away.
They agreed to discuss everything on Saturday after classes, and to go first thing on Sunday morning. Yulia couldn’t believe it would work out. But she didn’t get to find out if it would because the next day they came. And they knocked on the door in such a way that Yulia immediately knew—something happened that she definitely didn’t want to know about…
They found the mother behind the orchards, under an old bird cherry tree. She would have lain there until spring, but Grandma Tosya’s crazy bull, Apollosha, had escaped again. And she, taking her unruly dog Zhuchka with her, went to look for him. Zhuchka led her to the bird cherry, howling terribly and digging through the snow.
The following days merged into one continuous nightmare. The sisters cried, neighbors scurried back and forth, the police came with a social worker, asking countless questions. They showed Yulia a brooch—it was in her mother’s hand, apparently, she grabbed it either accidentally or intentionally to leave some kind of clue.
Yulia knew this brooch well. And everyone in the village knew it. It belonged to Zoya.
Then they asked about something else—did Yulia know that her grandmother had died? When did the father find out? Had they told him that the mother was an heir?
It was hard to believe it all. Not just that the father could do such a thing, but that Zoya… Was it all just for money? Edik was right, it seems.
They were allowed to skip school for a while, before and after the funeral. The father’s cousin came—a stern-looking woman who almost never spoke but silently took over all the household duties, particularly looking after little Dasha, who was exhausting everyone with her tantrums. In the presence of the aunt, she somehow calmed down, and Yulia was very grateful for that.
Some classmates were at the funeral, but no one came close. Afterward, Yulia saw no one at all. Only Sima kept coming to her—bringing homework and taking the completed notebooks to school. But they didn’t talk about the mom.
Edik was at the funeral too. He stood apart from everyone, and Yulia saw how everyone avoided him. He didn’t look at Yulia, and she understood why. «It’s okay,» she reassured herself. «Soon it’ll be summer—he’ll go to his flight school, and everything will be fine for him.»
But thinking about it was somehow unpleasant.
When it was finally time to go back to school, Yulia felt strange—as if there was nothing to fear, but she was scared. Understandably, why—she didn’t want all those questions and words of sympathy, didn’t want to break down in front of everyone. The younger ones were allowed to stay home a bit longer, but Yulia was in her final year—the vice principal had spoken to the aunt yesterday and said she understood everything, but it was time to get back to school.
When Yulia entered the classroom, she was met with a deathly silence.
Sima was the first to rush up to her—hugged Yulia and began to wail like an old woman. Then the others started: each felt obligated to come up to Yulia, pat her on the shoulder, and utter some awkward «hang in there.» Irka Tarasova even handed her a chocolate bar, loudly sniffling.
Semen approached too. Asked if Yulia needed any help. She shook her head, trying not to look him in the eye.
The kids gathered around Yulia, but only Anzhelika sat at an unusual spot for herself—at the very last desk in the far row. She hung her head and didn’t look at anyone, and Yulia noted that Anzhelika’s hair was unwashed and pulled back into a sloppy ponytail. Yulia could have hated her, could have grabbed those dirty locks, but somehow, she felt pity for her instead.
Just then, Anzhelika looked up. Her face was swollen, covered in red spots, her eyes without their usual black eyeliner looked vulnerable. Anzhelika stood up and walked towards Yulia. The class parted.
At first, Yulia thought Anzhelika was going to hit her. But stopping a couple of steps away, she turned pale and stammered:
«Sorry, I really didn’t know, I swear to you. I didn’t want it to turn out this way.»
Everyone again fell silent, as shocked as Yulia—no one had ever heard Anzhelika apologize before.
«It’s not your fault,» Yulia rasped. «It’s okay, don’t worry.»
Anzhelika looked up, disbelievingly at Yulia.
«I really didn’t know,» she repeated. «Sorry.»
Yulia glanced at Semen and blurted out:
«And you forgive me too.»
«For what?» Anzhelika was puzzled.
It would have been mean to talk about Semen then. And Yulia said:
«For everything. We shouldn’t have fought over them, everyone has their own life.»
Anzhelika nodded, and Yulia felt Semen behind her sigh disappointedly. He was a good guy, this Semen, but first, Yulia knew where such actions could lead, and second, his support wasn’t what she needed right now. And suddenly, she blurted out:
«Tell Nina Grigorievna that I forgot my essay notebook at home. I’ll run and bring it!»
And before anyone could say anything, Yulia dashed out of the classroom. She ran to the cloakroom, grabbed her jacket, and sprinted to the exit, pushing through the late-arriving younger students. She urgently needed to see Edik. And tell him that she loved him too…
