I pretended to lose my comb, but really just preferred my hair spiky. I kept things to myself, like my interest in poetry and philosophy. Good brothers and sisters in communism followed rules. Addressing each other with the term 'comrade' reinforced that we were all equal, with no social classes to divide us. We were told that we were all brothers and sisters in communism. 'Yes, Comrade Director.'Ĭould outsiders understand? In Romania, we did as we were told. He worked twelve-hour shifts, six days a week at a furniture factory.Ī slithering knot coiled inside my stomach.

My father? My father never came to school. It's difficult to concentrate when the electricity snaps off. It's hard to take notes when you can't feel your fingers. They were covered by coats, knitted mufflers, and gloves to combat the bitter cold of the unheated cement building.Ĭold and dark. But in the fall and winter, our school uniforms weren't visible.

Embroidered badges sewn onto our uniforms identified which school we attended. Girls, navy pinafores and white hair bands. Luca and me, we wore navy suits and ties to liceu. We were marked 'present' in attendance but were often absent from ourselves. We listened, stock still and squinting beneath the sickly light. Comrade Instructor lectured, bellowing at our group of forty students. Comrade Director shifted his weight, trying to appear casual. He lingered in the hallway, speaking with a colleague. The voice belonged to the school director. 'Blindfolded.' I gave Luca a nod and continued down the hall alone. 'Nice hair, do you cut it with a kitchen knife?' ' Hei, Cristian,' smiled one of the girls. We paused so Luca could talk to a group of loud girls. He had an eagerness about him, while I preferred to evaluate and watch from afar. If I was the type to throw a punch, Luca was the type to break up a fight. Teachers referred to Luca as 'sweet' but said I was sarcastic. Did you hear? The librarian says you're a bad influence.' 'Here.' I handed him my small pouch of sunflower seeds. Luca's tall, thin frame edged in beside me.

If I left at the right moment, I'd fall into step with her-the quiet girl with the hair hiding her eyes. Long live Communism-the bright future of mankind!Īt the time, my mind churned on something far from communism. He walked toward me, passing the tedious sign shouting from the concrete wall. Through the dim half-light of the school corridor I spotted my best friend, Luca.

I must betray you by ruta sepetys