by Dana Burkey
This book is dedicated to my big sister “RED” Dawn! Thank you for helping me in this endeavor, and always giving me your honest opinions. Your support and encouragement truly mean the world to me! I really could not have written this without you!
I also want to thank my middle school friends who provided me memories and inspiration for so much of this book. Thank you to Libby, Becky, and Simona!
Copyright © 2015 Dana Burkey
All rights reserved.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
“Is it really you?” I asked into the receiver as I hopped around in my bath towel. I had emerged from the shower just as my mom shouted that the phone was for me. Thankfully, I had gotten a cordless installed into my room for my birthday a few years ago, so I stood dripping on my carpet while the shock set in.
“Yes, it is really me.” I could immediately hear the faded Russian accent in her words, something I thought I might never hear again. “I was praying this was still your number.”
While Olena let out a nervous sounding laugh, I used the time to step into some clothes. Summer was on its way, but for today a light sweater and jeans were needed all the same.
“So, why did you call?” I asked once I had pulled on my jeans. I didn’t mean to sound so sharp, but her call was just as confusing as it was exciting.
“I am in Youngstown,” she all but whispered into the phone.
Her words got my blood pumping faster instantly. Olena was here, and not just in Ohio, but back in town; and she called me like it was no big deal.
“But where have you been? Where did you go?” I struggled to keep my voice level.
“I had to...go…” she let out a long sigh. “Can we meet? I would rather talk in person.”
“Sure,” I agreed, not entirely sure at all.
After agreeing to meet at Perkins, our favorite 24-hour restaurant in town, I rushed to the bathroom to dry my hair. Brushing it back into a ponytail, I smeared on enough makeup to make myself look like I actually cared about my appearance, then headed for my car. As I drove down Market St. I thought back to the last time I saw Olena. It was over 4 years ago, but the wound was still fresh. She was my best friend, and then suddenly she was gone.
After pulling into a familiar parking spot, I walked inside and looked for Olena. After glancing at the others in the restaurant without seeing her, I chose a booth near the front window and flipped lazily through my menu. It was getting dark outside, the clouds covering the setting sun. Their yellow hues were slowly turning orange, hinting that tonight would be a brilliant red sky.
“Claire.” A voice brought my attention away from the clouds. Turning towards it I was shocked to see Olena Kozak standing at my booth. Her long black hair lay straight against her pale skin, both a dramatic contrast to her bright blue eyes. In her thick grey coat and black pants she looked almost the same as the last time I saw her.
Despite my reservations about our meeting, I found myself standing and hugging her automatically. The answers to my questions would come soon, but for now I took in the familiar embrace of my long lost best friend. Blinking away the tears in my eyes I stepped back and allowed Olena to take a seat in the booth. Taking a deep breath, I sat across from her, questions building in my mind quickly.
“How have you been?” she asked, her smile lighting up her entire face.
“Okay,” I shrugged. “Ready to graduate finally.”
“Only 3 more months,” she nodded.
“Yeah,” I paused for only a second before diving in. “So what happened?”
She opened her mouth as if she was going to speak, then thought better of it. It started to anger me, until I noticed our waitress was walking up to our table.
“What can I get you ladies?” Her pen was poised over her note pad.
“Coffee, black,” Olena ordered, her eyes on the menu. “That is all.”
“I’ll take a tea and a piece of the apple pie,” I smiled, trying to make up for Olena’s terseness.
Our waitress nodded, glancing at Olena again before heading to the kitchen.
“Okay,” Olena began once the waitress was a far enough distance away. “My aunt was in trouble. Some serious family stuff, and my mom knew we needed to help them. I told you as soon as I could. I wanted to stay, but it was important that we got to my aunt as soon as possible.”
As I listened to her words I thought back to the last time I had seen her. The day so long ago suddenly feeling like it was just yesterday…
“Claire!” a voice called to me as I headed out of school to catch the bus.
“Olena! Where have you been?” I grinned, stepping away from the bus line to talk to her. She had not been at school in two days and when I called her to ask about it there was no answer.
“I have to tell you something,” she replied, a serious look on her face. “My mom and I have to leave town for a little while.”
“Like for the weekend?” I didn’t know much about her mom, only that she worked a lot and traveled for business from time to time.
“It will be longer than that,” Olena frowned, as if she already knew what my next question would be.
“But you will be back for our party, right?”
I watched in shock as she shook her head at me. One of the coolest things about being best friends with Olena was that we both had the same birthday. It was still three weeks away, but we had already worked hard to plan our “Bowling Birthday Bash.”
“When will you be back?” I tried to keep my voice steady, but suddenly felt my chest tightening with emotion.
“I do not know,” Olena paused to reach into her purse. “I just came by to give this to you.”
Accepting the brightly wrapped box she handed me, I struggled to understand just what she was saying. Sdniom rozdenija, Russian for Happy Birthday, was written in tiny letters on the shiny silver paper.
“Just wait and open it on our birthday, okay?”
I nodded, unsure what else to do. Taking my eyes off the gift, I looked at her and could feel the sting of tears behind my eyes.
“You’re coming back though, right?”
“I do not know,” she shook her head. “But I need to go.”
Not knowing what else to do I stepped forward and hugged Olena, secretly praying this would not be the last time I would see her. Tears rolled down my cheeks as she finally pulled away, her face showing only a hint of sadness.
“Do Svidanija,” I finally said, clutching her gift tightly in my hand.
“Goodbye,” she replied before turning and walking towards the parking lot where her mom was no doubt waiting for her.
Forcing one foot in front of the other I climbed onto the school bus just second before it rolled out of the parking lot. Plopping down into my usual seat, I pulled my legs up to my chest and stared at the wrapped present still in my hands. She said to save it for my birthday, but I was knew that would just make me miss her more. As I opened my bag and slipped the package inside I resolved I would save it until I saw Olena again.
“So that’s it?” I asked, clenching my jaw more at the memory than her answer. “Your family needed help, so you go and can’t even call or anything?”
“I tried a few times,” she explained, her eyes pee
ring deep into mine. “But my aunt was in a really bad spot, and even getting away to call you was impossible.”
“And now it’s all better and you can talk to me again?” My voice was low, but harsh. I did not mean to sound so rude to Olena, but it was hard dealing with all the emotions she was bringing up suddenly with her return.
“Kind of,” Olena glanced down at the table. “My aunt died in a car accident a few weeks ago.”
I could feel my heart slam into my chest. Here I was mad at Olena, and she was off dealing with family tragedy and who knows what else. I instantly felt childish and selfish for not being a better friend.
“I’m so sorry Olena,” I managed, my throat suddenly dry.
“Thanks,” she shrugged, her eyes glued to the table.
Silence enveloped our table as the waitress brought us our order. Olena still did not look at her, but picked up her coffee and took a long sip. I thanked the woman before sliding my pie away from me. My stomach was suddenly too upset to eat.
“So are you living in Youngstown again?” I asked, no longer able to stand the silence.
“No, just passing through,” she explained, finally meeting my eyes again. “But I knew I needed to see you while I was here.”
“How long are you here for?” I took a sip of my tea, willing myself to stay calm.
“I do not know,” she answered slowly. “I want to stay for a few days, but I have some other stuff going on too.”
I nodded my head, not really understanding at all. Olena was always a mystery to me, despite once having been my best friend. She never spoke much about her family, aside from a comment or two about her dad dying of cancer when she was younger. Even though we hung out nearly every day for over a year and a half, I never set foot in her house or met her family. When I asked my mom about it once she said it could be because Olena was Russian, and it was just a cultural difference. Sure, Olena was fluent in Russian and her accent was still noticeable on some words, but there was always some part of me that worried it was something else.
“So I drove past the mall on the way here and think I saw George Hill in the parking lot,” she noted with a smile, changing the subject so easily.
“Yeah, he works in the food court,” I blushed.
“And are you still in love with him?”
I felt my face getting warmer as Olena let out a laugh.
“Have you ever gotten the nerve to tell him how you feel?” Olena asked, our conversation almost the same as before she left 4 years ago.
“No,” I shrugged. “But speaking of being in love with people, Mark Terrence would die to know you were in town.”
As Olena groaned, reminded of her “shadow” from 8th grade, I could not help but smile. Despite the time, it was like Olena and I still had those things keeping us together; those memories and moments from so long ago that made our friendship pick up right where it ended. Pushing my anger at not hearing from her aside, I allowed myself to just enjoy the moment. I wanted to have a good time with Olena while she was in town.
“I can’t believe you still remember that!” I laughed, almost an hour after sitting down in the booth with Olena. Our conversation was light and happy, something I had been missing for so long.
“You’re still friends with her, right?” Olena asked, downing the rest of her coffee.
“Rachel?” I clarified. At Olena’s nod I couldn’t help but frown. “No, not really. She was always hanging out with Simona and Becky after you left town so I didn’t see her much.”
“Why did you not hang out with them too?” Olena asked, concern all over her face.
“I was too upset,” I all but whispered with a shrug. I was hoping she would not press the issue.
“What do you mean?” Olena lowered her voice, knowing it was clearly not something I felt comfortable talking about when everyone could hear us.
“When you left I felt really alone,” I explained, forcing myself to look at her. “You were the best friend I had in a long time, and then all of a sudden you were gone. I tried hanging out with people, but it was not the same. So, then I kind of stopped hanging out with anyone.”
Once again our waitress interrupted our moment by bringing refills of our drinks. I used the time to get my emotions in check, not wanting to cry in the restaurant. When I switched to public school towards the end of 6th grade I struggled to make friends. I was by myself more than with friends, and it looked like it was going to be more of the game in 7th grade. And it was, until Olena moved to town. I suddenly did not feel so alone all the time, instead having someone that seemed to actually understand my love for New Kids On The Block and all things Lisa Frank. When Olena left I was back to being alone again, and no one seemed to mind that fact but myself.
“I never meant to hurt you like that,” Olena finally began once our server had left. “If I could have stayed here longer or gotten in touch with you I would have, but-”
“It’s okay,” I interrupted. “I understand now, and it’s fine. After graduation I won’t have to worry about it anymore. I can head off to Ohio State and get a fresh start.”
“That is great,” she smiled, concern still showing through. “But you know even if I am not here we are still friends, right?”
“Yeah, sure,” I shrugged, staring at my hands in my lap.
“Claire, come on,” Olena tried again, forcing me to look at her. “You still have the necklace I gave you for your birthday when I left?”
“Of course,” I said quickly, my hand moving to my neck automatically.
“I gave that to you because you will always be my friend, no matter what,” she paused. “I kind of wish you had it with you, in fact. I thought about it a lot while I was with my aunt.”
“I was in such a rush I didn’t think to grab it.” I frowned, finally dropping my hand to my lap. “You said your aunt was the one who gave it to you?”
“Yeah, her and my uncle gave it to me after my dad died, as a way to show they were there for me,” she began, a smile growing on her face. “So when my mom said we needed to leave I knew I wanted you to have it, since I was still there for you.”
I could once again feel tears welling up in my eyes, but this time out of gratitude for my friendship with Olena. It was impossible to be mad at her for leaving when she was such a genuine friend even after all our time apart. Opening my mouth to say thank you, I noticed Olena was suddenly pale.
“Are you okay?” I asked, watching her eyes dart around the room behind me. As I turned to look her hands grabbed at mine, stopping me before I could see who or what was drawing her attention.
“I am fine,” she laughed, the sound suddenly hollow. “I just realized how fast this coffee went through me. I really need to use the bathroom.”
Olena stood, moving to block my view of where she had just been staring.
“I’ll be right back,” she managed, before taking off towards the bathroom.
With a shrug I picked up my fork and dove into the rest of my pie. After picking at it a little earlier, the smell of the cooked apples and cinnamon were suddenly too much to ignore. Finishing the piece quickly I stared outside the window at the sunset, now blazing red on the horizon.
Watching the sky turn an almost blackish- red I could not help but smile at how great this reunion with Olena was going. It reminded me suddenly of how lightheartedly we chatted the first time we met….
“Can I sit here?”
“Go ahead.” I nodded without looking up from the pages of Teen Beat.
“Spaseeba,” the reply came, catching my attention.
Glancing at the seat next to me I was shocked to see a student I did not recognize sitting down. I did not know everyone in my grade yet, but I was certain I had not seen her in any of my classes so far this year.
“Spaseeba?” I asked, the word sounding nothing like when she had said it.
“Oh sorry,” she said with a shake of her head. “Thank you.”
“Is that French?” I guessed, noticin
g an accent as she spoke even the English words.
“Russian,” she corrected me. “I just moved here.”
I just smiled in reply, not sure what to say. Not having a lot of friends at school made me nervous to talk to this new student. What if she thought I was not cool enough for her friendship like the rest of the girls seemed to think?
“Is that the new Teen Beat magazine?” the new girl asked, breaking my train of thought.
“Yeah, do you want to take a look?” I offered, sliding it towards her.
“Donny is my favorite,” she smiled, flipping to a page with a large photo of the New Kids On The Block.
“I like Joey best,” I admitted, turning to a page with him looking extra cute. “Oops!”
Glancing down I saw blood springing up from a fresh paper cut on my index finger. I looked away quickly, trying to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach. The sight of blood always did that to me.
“Here, let me help,” my new neighbor offered, pulling a tissue from her bag.
I took deep breaths as she wrapped the tissue tight around my finger and applied pressure to slow the bleeding. When she finally removed the tissue a few minute later the blood was stopped, leaving only a little red mark on my finger. The cut was quickly covered with a band aid, helping my nausea to all but vanish.
“Wow, thanks,” I sighed. “I really freak out around blood.”
“It does not bother me, so I can help you if it happens again,” she offered before holding out her hand. “I am Olena Kozak.”
“I’m Claire Santori.” I felt so classy shaking her hand in greeting. “So what other classes do you have?”
As we went over her class schedule I was excited to see Olena and I were in three classes together, as well as lunch and homeroom. By the time the first bell rang, I could tell Olena and I were going to be good friends. We seemed to have a lot in common already and anyone that did not make fun of me for freaking out over the sight of blood was good to have around.
“See you at lunch time?” she asked as we parted ways on the way to first period.