| The Most Insidious Kind |
| By Artemis |
| Here is an attempt at a serious fanfic. Good luck to me. If you don't like it, screw you! As the main character is only in one episode, I have had to make up a personality for him based on the few clues I have been able to glean. And trust me, there were very few, especially when you consider he was high practically the entire time. Well, on with the story.
"Hey, Borya, think fast!" The dusty-blonde turned towards the sound of his friend's voice just in time to see a brown American football hurtling straight at his face. Yelling a bit in surprise, he threw himself to the ground as the ball sailed overhead, where it hit the branch of a tree, causing a shower of snow to rain down upon the hapless teenager. "Just my luck," he thought as he started to pick himself up. He looked over to his friend, who was fast approaching. "You're supposed to catch the ball, not fall to the ground, Borya," his friend said as he extended a hand to help Borya up. "Well, Vanya, had I been expecting it, I might have caught it." When he was standing he brushed the snow from his clothes and picked up the book he had been carrying. "Hey, I warned you, my friend," Vanya replied with a grin. "Come on, school's over for the day, so let's go have some fun! I hear this cute new girl moved in just a few blocks from your house, so let's go!" he urged. Borya shook his head. "As enticing as that sounds, my dad said I should come home straight after school. Something about him having something important to tell me. Sorry." "Ah, don't worry about it. I'll walk home with you." The two boys turned and walked down the snowy sidewalks of Leningrad. "So, looking forward to our trip this fall?" asked Vanya. "You bet I am. I've already got almost sixteen thousand rubles saved up!" Borya excitedly replied as they rounded the corner of his street. "No way! I've only got about five thousand." "That," said Borya with a chuckle, "is because you always spend any money you get on computer games." He and Vanya stopped, as they had reached the door to the house. "Well, I'll talk to you tomorrow then." "All right. I'm going to go check out that new girl." "Have fun." Borya waved as his friend jogged off. Entering his home, he tossed his book casually onto the table, hearing the footsteps of his father coming towards him from the direction of the kitchen. "Welcome home, Borya," said Dima, drying his hands on a dishtowel. "How was your day?" "Fine, Dad. Seems I aced that test yesterday in World History about the American Civil War." "Wonderful! And speaking of America, I have some good news to tell you." Dima put down the towel as Borya grabbed a bag of chips from a cabinet in the kitchen and came back into the main room. "Wonderful news that has to do with America? Isn't that like an oxymoron?" Borya chuckled and sat down in a chair. "Ha ha, very funny, Borya. But this is serious, something that will be very good for you and me." Borya popped a chip into his mouth. "How's that?" "Well, you remember that promotion I had been hoping for?" "You got it?" "You might say that. It's not the one I had been hoping for exactly. This one is even better. It will pay much more than I had been expecting with the other offer." Borya stood and, having quickly devoured his snack, tossed the bag into the trashcan. "That's great, Dad! Way to go!" "There is one catch, though," Dima tentatively began. "We have to move." "Move?" Borya had a sinking feeling as he recalled how his dad had referenced America. "Unfortunately, yes. The job is at the Soviet Embassy in Washington, D.C." "We-we have to move? But what about my friends, school, what about my life here?!" Borya asked, shocked. Dima tried to reason with his son. "Borya, this is an excellent opportunity for us. And there are plenty of nice people your age in Washington, D.C. And you will be able to finish the school year; the job starts in August." "But," insisted Borya, "but what about the trip Vanya and I were planning in the fall?" Dima sighed. "I am sorry, son, but I can't back out of this now that I have accepted it, and I'd had to choose at that moment." "But Dad!" "No more arguments, Boris Dimitrovich Ivanov." Borya knew that when his dad used his full name that further protests were futile. "We will be flying to America on August 24th, so that gives you the rest of the school year and much of the summer left," Dima said sternly. "Besides, you will like it in America." "That," replied Borya angrily, "I highly doubt." Part 2 |
| Part 1 |