Rus Articles Journal

Byl of snow winter of

It was very frosty in brightly lit city. Evening streets are deserted, and only cars overtook each other. Round the corner, where the lane opened, the small group of the tousled guys rustled and was pushed.

the Young woman hasty passed

by a noisy band. The laughter and shouts moved away. But someone followed: there was distinct a snow scratch. She pricked up the ears from this frosty crunch which is catching up it.

Electric lamp. Cold light on snow. The shadow of its figure shuddered and stiffened. Sharply stopped and quickly looked back. The boy was clumsily stuck with it into a shoulder. From surprise jumped aside...

- the Aunty, and you far live? - the boy almost from it growth, years of eleven.

- And that? - she was surprised, examining the persecutor: the thin narrow person, obstinate, easy Bologna the jacket is buttoned on two lower buttons.

- Let to spend the night, - sniffed, rubbed its naked, without mitten, a hand.

- Sorry, to me to go far, - pity and vigilance fought in it.

Looking back and ridiculously jumping up, the boy went sideways, having thrust hands into the pockets heated by a frost.

- Button, - the woman got accustomed to it.

the Disobedient cold fingers ran on plastic pieces of ice, but a button, having slipped, came up from the broken-off loop, letting in an icy cold to the children`s unprotected body. The trolleybus approached.

- the Aunty, to you it is possible? - the boy did not lag behind.

Clubs of caustic gas as if soap bubbles, took off and tried to keep step with cars, drenching with charcoal heat.

- Sit down, - she threw through a shoulder and quickly stepped in the swung open trolleybus doors.

the Boy easily jumped afterwards, without taking out hands from pockets. Awkwardly, sideways sat down on an empty seat, tapping with boots, warming legs.

In frosty gloss advertizing fires flashed.

- And to your house it is far to p to go? - breathed on red fingers, clamped them between knees, trying to muffle a frosty ache, and, having looked frowningly, again frowned.

- On following we leave.

At the lit stop it was waited by the husband. Took a handbag from the wife`s hands, attracted for shoulders, warming. She hasty explained him a situation.“ Something happened, - reached the boy of the word. - I did not understand yet that. He has no place to go, I invited him to us“. The boy saw how she changed countenance, got agitated as if was not a hostess of the decision.

- We solved. You will go to us, - it approached the boy.

- We live near here, will be warmed, - she resolutely spoke, touching it for a shoulder, with shudder feeling frosty fragility of the rustling jacket.

- it is not necessary to

, - the boy was discharged. - I am. To me is where to go where - nibud...

- Go there - do not know where? - the man burst out laughing.

- it is not necessary to

why to you to swear then? - the boy repeated, stubborn fighting against a shiver from cold. - I did not freeze!

- As you are called? - the man took off from the hand a leather glove on fur and stretched a palm.

- Sergey, - the boy told, and the fingers which froze in a fist were unclenched.

- the Namesake, so you to my father.

the man added

I as if thinking out game conditions for this situation:

- And now we will go to our tower - teremok. It is not low, is not high. The more the merrier, as grandfathers used to say, huh? And you are serious and easily dressed, the brother. A frost - that, it, you see, not the aunt - does not like to joke.

- to me it is not cold. I got used, - Sergey did not accept affected tone.

... In the apartment warmly and comfortably. The room is closely crammed: a case, a secretary, two chairs, the TV, the desk which is filled up with papers. The bookstack serving at the same time and a partition. It seemed to Sergey that he houses - it was so warm and good at heart... The boy did not feel either stiffness, or shyness. As though this woman - his elder sister.

Natasha laid

to the boy on a folding bed, heard how it poskripet the tense springs a little and calmed down. Somewhere in other apartments, from other world, the muffled sounds reached. Midnight. Radio at someone beeped and ceased. Natasha forced itself to fall asleep, not to think, not to remember. Memoirs came from the childhood as if a dream: turned into thoughts of life. It was pleasant to it that the boy sleeps behind a partition in heat of its apartment.

in the Morning Natasha was late for work. Also told colleagues about the boy as if justifying oneself.

- And now here put him on the tram to bus station, gave on the road of money. The boy, apparently, no kopek did not have, speaks, revised all movies.

- you are sure, Natasha that he will go to bus station? - skeptically business Alla Petrovna smiled.

- As you decided to let from the street in the house some boy? - also the senior economist Zoya Ivanovna was perplexed. - In life everyone happens. Here in our house the neigbour took pity, too warmed the little girl from the street. So in gratitude you know what received?

It indignantly turned, having creaked a chair, interrogatively looked at employees of department and added:

- Robed her. It left the little girl in the apartment, left in shop, it seems. And all... And all to you gratitude.

- As it happened? - Natasha pricked up the ears.

- As? - imitated, successfully copying intonation, Allochka. - You do not know life. There was that, as had to happen. The little girl was the thief. What difference, how?!

- the neigbour from shop Returned, so, - measuredly, with details Zoya Ivanovna told, - sees, the little girl squeezes something in a fist. Here my friend approaches her and speaks: “Unclench fingers!“ And how you think what in a hand appeared? And the neigbour - that purposely put ten thousand on a piano, not from above, and directly on a black cover.

- How many to this girl of years? - Natasha reflected.

- To school went, to the first class, and learned to steal already. And still the case was... - Zoya Ivanovna reddened from excitement. - Too here so... One boy from the street spent the night, and in a week this apartment was cleaned!

She heavily rose from a chair, approached Natasha, put it hands on shoulders, advised:

- Call

militia. God helps those who help themselves. And something, unusual noticed behind it?

- I do not know, - Natasha shrugged shoulders. - Everything was strange from the very beginning... I was even frightened: snow as the broken glass, crackled, and steps are closer and closer... Ah, I think, I will give everything if only did not beat... And when he saw the husband at a stop, suddenly did not want to go... Twisted, considering the lock when left the apartment in the morning.

- Is not present

, I silly would not act this way, - Zoya Ivanovna moved full shoulders. - Why everything to complicate? It is necessary to accept everything as is. You will not remake the world. There are special people in militia who take care of such children. Here let everyone also does the part.

- And how he behaved in the apartment at night? - Zoya Ivanovna was not appeased, winding phone disk.

- I do not know, - Natasha wearily vybukhnut. - I dreamed a dream...

- the Dream - that a dream and what in your apartment becomes now?

- He said that he did not see still the apartment without TV... - continued to remember aloud.

- Here - here, - Alla badly loudly laughed, - What for such insurance agent what bypasses apartments?

- Yes, Natashenka, and I as daughters advise you: remember everything, think and call militia. In youth and I was trustful too.

- And the husband too at work?

- we have that and there is nothing to steal, only books...

- At me all took out. In the afternoon... Hallo! Militia? - Zoya Ivanovna obligingly and imperiously stretched the receiver to Natasha:

- Say!

Natasha did not learn the voice. It something was answered, asked something. But it was already all the same.

to Natasha was sad to come back home

: something happened to it. And the winter was punched, receded, became soft, snow became limp, became dirty.

Hardly reached the house.

- And here the militia came! - the neighbor - the veteran on a staircase met her. - What happened?

- And... - she wanted to pass by, but suddenly admitted. - The boy at us spent the night.

- That for the boy?

- some Immigrants or refugees, and, maybe, migrants?

I it told it all.

- Here, it seems, and made a good deed. And at heart it is bad. And it was good. And what I began to be afraid of thieves?

- Perhaps, not in thieves business? We became some others. The wild, exhausting fear? We during war and that such were not. Why forgot to trust each other?

- all it seems to me that a call to militia I betrayed myself, but not the boy...

- Refugees. From Tajikistan, probably. Of them it is full on electric trains now beg. Do not grieve, your boy will remember you. Good deeds are not forgotten.

It opened a door of the apartment and entered. It was remembered how she was invited to the house by the unfamiliar woman. In others city. It was so long ago. And in the morning silence, a key on white paper and a note: “A breakfast on a table. Warm up tea. Put a key under a rug at a door. Break a leg!“ She that happy day passed perfectly well the entrance examination. Also was such happy.