Page 29 of The Beast of Moscow

And what had he been thanking her for?

*

Vera tried to be as understanding and open as she could while one of her only male pupils, twelve-year-old Ivan, closed himself off entirely from her. Folding his arms over his chest, the young man sunk his back harder against the wall of the darkened studio and pulled one foot up on the bench he sat on. It was the way he’d set his lips in a firm line while he refused to meet her gaze even after she asked him to that said more than he was willing to.

The boy didn’t want to hear her.

He’d already made up his mind.

Vera still couldn’t help but try ...

Despite knowing she wasn’t supposed to remain at the studio any longer than necessary after she’d finished teaching her free class for The Swan House, Vera hadn’t been able to say no when Ivan asked if they could chat when all the kids had filtered out. Out of all the kids, she had a handful that she considered high risk for different reasons. Often, the ballet classes were their only extra curricular activity. They were kids with maybe one parent, like Ivan who lived with his single-mom that worked forty-five-plus-hour work weeks just to pay their rent and keep them fed. Kids that just needed a little extra attention or simply someone to talk to when they were having a bad day.

Ivan was one of those kids.

“You’re sure you want to quit?” she asked Ivan once more. “At least, be sure it’s the choice you want to make. And if it is, then look me in my face and say so.”

The twelve-year-old wouldn’t do it.

No matter how long Vera remained kneeling in front of him, willing the kid silently to even try. Instead, he let out an annoyed sigh.

“I don’t think it’s because you don’t have time like you told me,” Vera told him, deciding to just get right to the point. “I think it has something to do with that group of boys you’ve been hanging out with for the last month or so. Sometimes they come with you and hang out across the street while you’re in here?”

One could lead a horse directly to water, but they couldn’t make it drink. The same could be said for an almost-teenage-boy with a group of friends who determined what was cool. She had a feeling those boys could find a million other things to do to waste their time, and ballet probably wasn’t one of them.

“Maybe I want to play soccer,” Ivan said suddenly.

“Then, maybe you should. And you’ve also been doing ballet with me since you were eight, I know you love it—you’ve said so—so why do you want to quit?”

He hadn’t been expecting her fast question if the dip of his eyebrows was any indication. Not that it really prompted the kid to come back with a reply because instead, he just shut down and off again with his arms over his chest and his back to the wall.

“Ivan,” Vera tried to say.

The boy shrugged one shoulder jerkily. “I already told my mom, too. I’m quitting. That’s it.”

“But you still came for one last class, huh?” Vera stood up, eyeing the boy’s sweatpants he had started to wear to class for the last couple weeks. That was her first hint one of his friends, or the entire group, had started to make comments.

Why were kids mean sometimes?

Couldn’t people just let people be?

Who cared if a boy wanted to dance—if he found peace wearing tights and flying across a stage—what would it hurt if he was great at it and loved it?

Why couldn’t he just be?

“You know,” Vera told Ivan as he stood from the bench and gathered his gym bag from the floor between them, “it’s okay to like something that someone else doesn’t like, Ivan. The older you get, the less you’ll care what others think about you. You’ll notice that people won’t have much to say then about what you do because they’ve finally figured out it’s better to just worry about themselves.”

The boy heaved the bag over his shoulder. “Yeah, well ...”

Not right now, she could hear practically him saying in his head with a roll of his eyes.

“You can come back anytime.”

Ivan met her gaze, then. “Yeah?”

Vera nodded. “I’ll keep your name on the list for the rest of the year. Just in case you do want to come back, okay?”

“I probably won’t, though.”