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to be a hero like your perfect dad? Too late, dirty wrecker. I’m turning you in.”
    He shoves me aside and strides into the office. In the doorway, he bumps into Nina Petrovna, who is walking out; she shrieks and leaps back. Vovka gives her a nasty grin and goes in. I wait for Nina Petrovna to exit, but she doesn’t, glaring at me suspiciously. Sergei Ivanych yells again, “Get in, criminals; I don’t have all day.” Nina Petrovna darts out and I go in. Sergei Ivanych orders me to lock the door and stand next to Vovka by the wall.
    It’s bright daylight outside, but his office is dark. All I can see are the large portrait of Stalin and, below, Sergei Ivanych at his desk, eyeing us angrily. “Let me explain what we are looking at,” he says. “I’ll make it simple.” He looks at Vovka.
“First you, Sobakin. Thanks to you, I’ll have to answer to the appropriate authorities for my weakness of character. No telling what they’ll do. I let you stay after your father was put away and I kept it quiet, but what do you do? You attack Nina Petrovna.”
    â€œShe’s scum,” Vovka says.
    â€œI didn’t hear it, Sobakin.” He turns to me. “You, Zaichik. Your father has been arrested and locked up in Lubyanka. You think I don’t know?”
    I press my back against the wall to keep from falling.
    He goes on: “So why not come to me and say, ‘Sergei Ivanych, I want to purify myself from the rotten influence of my father. I want to march with my school to where great Stalin leads.’ Huh? You didn’t do that, did you?”
    I can feel Vovka staring at me, but I won’t turn my head.

    â€œHad you done that,” Sergei Ivanych says, “I would have let you denounce your father at today’s Pioneers rally. Who knows, maybe we’d even have let you join the Pioneers. But no, you chose to pretend that you are still one of us.”
    Here he slams his fist against the desktop so hard, his phone receiver flies off the cradle. “You think you can get away from our State Security? They’ve been calling all day from the orphanage for the children of the enemies of the people. What was I supposed to tell them, that you’re not here?”

    Only when Vovka grabs me under my arm do I notice that I’m sliding down to the floor.
    â€œSobakin,” says Sergei Ivanych, “pull up a chair for Zaichik. The boy needs to sit down.”
    I drop into the chair Vovka brings. I guess my dad is not coming to the rally after all. Not coming after all.
    Sergei Ivanych sighs, sits back, and looks at us not unkindly. “Boys, boys, you don’t know what’s good for you,” he says. “Finally, we got rid of that Jew, Finkelstein. That might have satisfied the authorities for a while. But no, you had to get in trouble. I’m sending you both to the orphanage. Case closed.”
    â€œFinkelstein didn’t do it,” Vovka says.
    â€œNot my problem. He confessed.” Sergei Ivanych shuffles papers on his desk, then looks up at Vovka. “How do you know he didn’t do it?”
    â€œDon’t send me to the orphanage and I’ll tell you.”

    â€œDon’t you blackmail me, Sobakin. You know who broke off the nose?”
    â€œI do,” Vovka says.
    Sergei Ivanych smiles. “Here’s a chance to correct our failures.” He reaches for the phone. “Operator, get me State Security,” he says into the receiver; then he looks up at me and says, “Think you can make it back to class, Zaichik?”
    I nod.
    â€œRun along,” he says. “I’ll deal with you later.”

24
    IN THE MAIN HALL, the statue I damaged has been hauled away. It must have been heavy; there are gashes in the floor where they dragged Stalin to the staircase. I wonder where they’ve taken it. I look around. The hall is deserted, just as it was this morning when I marched in