Global Studies

Know You Better

A week passed since that day, and Amara began to find her place at Winthrop Academy. The days passed in a haze of studying and spending time with her new friends, including Alexei.  She felt that she had come a long way in terms of her academic progress, and she was quite happy with what she was told she had accomplished.

Alexei had taken even more of a liking to her. He didn’t know much about her, but he was drawn to her insights and ability to think for herself. It seemed as if everyone else was just whipped around, responding to external stimuli.

One day, he went so far as to steal her notebook in class to provoke her into trying to get it back. She would have put her arms around him had Dr. Franklin not reprimanded them at that moment.

“Alexei, don’t take other people’s things. And Amara, that’s not the way to deal with it.”

Alexei realized that he was acting juvenile and resolved to quit it.

They spent more time together over the weekend, and before she knew it, Monday had come around again.

Her first class, as always, was global studies, and Amara had come to like her instructor’s teaching style. Dr. Franklin frequently balanced his lectures with open discussion sessions to encourage the students to think critically.

The classroom was bright with the morning sun streaming in through the windows, and Amara found it inviting. She took her normal seat, and in the minutes before the class was called to order, she tuned out the other students’ discussions.

Dr. Franklin tapped on his desk.

“It’s nine o’clock. Welcome back,” he said. “I hope you had a nice weekend. We have a lot to cover this week. Homework, due next Monday as always, is a written reflection of textbook sections 2.3 and 3.1 - five hundred words or more per section.”

Amara thought about the sections she had yet to read. She remembered from the table of contents that section 3.1 was quite long and wondered if she could manage on her own.

He had written on the whiteboard the title of the day’s lecture: “The Changing Landscape of Modern Warfare.” Due to her budding relationship with Alexei, Amara knew it may be tough for her to stomach.

The lecture on strategy and technology went smoothly, but at the end of the class, he decided to devote 20 minutes to a discussion about the Ukrainian war. At the first mention, fifteen hands shot up.

Dr. Franklin decided to ask the person who he knew had a direct connection to the conflict for his thoughts first.

“Alexei, go ahead,” said Dr. Franklin.

“Well, I’m speaking from a purely civilian perspective, and to be fair, I have not been to Ukraine in nine years. I still remember what it was like, though, and my parents have told me stories about their time, even before I was born. It’s a beautiful country. But everything about Ukraine gives me a sense of dread now. I am very worried about my family there, with the unpredictability of it all. I remember when the first air raid happened in Kharkiv. I didn’t hear from my family there for three days as the communication lines were out, and I didn’t sleep at all. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg. Everyone in my family worried as much as I did, and every time my phone rang and I was away from either of my parents, I worried that someone had died. It was difficult, and it is a cross I’ll have to bear for the rest of my life,” said Alexei, as the remainder of the class looked on intensely.

“Did you end up losing anyone in your family,” asked Dr. Franklin. The room was tense, awaiting the answer.

“No, but...others were not as fortunate,” responded Alexei.

Many students were visibly moved by his personal account and connection, especially Amara, who swallowed hard. She realized that this class was forcing her to think about things she didn’t want to think about, including how much others in the world struggle. She considered how privileged she was and how she didn’t see it, realizing that privilege is really about the disadvantages of others and not any advantages that you have.

Of course, Amara knew what the implications were of having a Ukrainian friend, even one who lived in Belgium, but had not effectively realized it until that moment. She had felt compassion for the innocent victims of the war, and yet she imagined then for the first time what it meant to feel dread concerning your own family in a war zone. Her expression changed to one of anguish, and she felt as if she couldn’t sit still. She suddenly felt a knot in the pit of her stomach, as if she was dreading something herself.

She thought of her past conversations with Alexei. He had explained it to her well enough, that the war was real and personal to him, but she was stubborn. All the while, Dr. Franklin wrote notes intently on his clipboard, wracking her nerves. Participation was a big part of her grade, and she scrutinized her every answer over and over in her head, considering if she had left out anything important.

After that class, she knew that she wanted to talk to Alexei about what he had said. She did not have a chance after global studies.

Amara found Alexei in a quiet corner of the library. While he looked downcast, Amara reminded herself that it may have just been the dim light of the room.

The atmosphere of the library was quiet, and Amara knew this was the right time. She sat down in a hard wooden chair and spoke.

“I was very moved by your story,” she said.
His face looked happier upon hearing that from her.

“Which? The one I shared in class?”

“Yeah. And while I probably never will understand their situation, I can empathize. I understand more now that you’ve explained it to me. At least, it’s more of an active understanding.”

“Thanks, friend,” he said.

“You look sad.”

“I’m not. I’m just tired.”

“I understand,” said Amara. “If you are sad, you can tell me, you know?”

“I know.”

“Hey. You want to review my notes? If you were distracted during the lecture, I don’t blame you.”

“I’d like that,” said Alexei.

…

On Wednesday, the topic shifted to migration around the world. After the past two days’ uneasy discussions of war in Ukraine, Dr. Franklin began the class by saying, “One aspect of the human cost of war is that it often leads to the movement of refugees. For example, many Ukrainians have fled their country due to the ongoing Russian invasion. So, as I hinted at yesterday, today we will talk about migration, starting with the current plight of Ukrainian migrants.”

Amara saw on the board, “The Impact of Migration on Global Societies.”

He talked for fifteen minutes, then he said, “Let’s discuss. Based on what you know and what I just told you, how do you feel about the issue of migration? I understand it’s an intense subject, especially with the past presidential administration taking the stance it did, but please be respectful.”

Dr. Franklin realized he had several students who were living in the United States but were born somewhere else.

“Amara! Let’s hear what you have to say,” said Dr. Franklin.

Amara began, “Well, I grew up in Brazil, and they have an interesting case. I have thought about Brazil’s history as well as its present, and many cultures came together there, people who came across the seas from most continents and the indigenous Brazilians. Everyone has gotten along well. In recent years, however, due to the breakdown of the state in Venezuela, a lot of people have left, and many of them have come to Brazil. There are a lot of people in Brazil, some of whom I know, that look down on these migrants even though it’s not their fault that their government is horrible. There is an appeal to fear strategy in their arguments, especially regarding the socialist government there.”

“You’re right, it’s not their fault,” said Dr. Franklin.  Amara wondered whether she spoke too soon regarding that exact point, as no one forced them to come specifically to Brazil, but she reminded herself that they were desperate and didn’t have many options. The class seemed intrigued.

Mary asked, “How conservative is Brazil with regard to immigration today?”

“Somewhat fairly. People in Brazil are skeptical of a lot,” said Amara.

Dr. Franklin said, “You, Alexei. You live in Belgium now, so let’s hear what it’s like there.”

After telling his story so openly on Monday, he was more willing to speak up.
Alexei said, “My parents took me there in the summer of 2014. It was in large part because of the invasion of Crimea, but they had wanted to move for a while. And it was hard for the first few years. Adjusting and all.”

Dr. Franklin said, “Has anyone ever disliked you for your status as an immigrant?”

He continued, “Well, my family has experienced significant prejudice living in Belgium. Many Eastern Europeans have moved to Western Europe since the collapse of the Soviet Union thirty years ago. We were relatively late to the party. It turned out that my family was one of the luckier ones. My dad now has a job that pays him well and we live in a nice house, et cetera. There are a lot of Ukrainians and people from other former Soviet republics in countries such as Belgium that still struggle, and the attitude of many people there hasn’t helped. My personal experience reminds me every day that migration is an issue that affects real people.”

This was something that Amara was not expecting to be brought up. She looked away in shame. How had she not stopped to consider that? She had assumed that every Ukrainian immigrant in Belgium, however many there were, felt just like Alexei; moreover, she assumed they were treated just like Alexei and had all the opportunities his family had.

There she was, thinking that Alexei had it better now that he was in Belgium but completely discounting the experiences of other people just like him. She choked up from a mix of her empathy for Alexei and her guilt over her ignorance.

“I’ll do better in the future,” Amara resolved. Alexei seemed to notice her distress and smiled, as if to say that he forgave her ignorance, as Dr. Franklin began his concluding lecture based on the book and his remarks from the class.

After class, Amara sought out Alexei but didn’t have the courage to speak on the subject. She found him fighting back tears.

“What’s wrong,” she asked.

“Nothing, Amara. I’m just homesick,” said Alexei. “I want to be with my parents and my sister again.”

“Hey. Look at me. You will be soon. In the meantime, you have this amazing opportunity in front of you. We both know how lucky we are to be here, so let’s make the most of it.”

…

As Alexei and Amara went together to the library on Friday afternoon to continue the homework on the week’s lectures, Amara thought about all she had learned that week. All these perspectives felt somewhat overwhelming.

“I think the book unfairly downplays American aggression around the world in the war section,” said Alexei.

“Perhaps. But don’t tell me that you’re not grateful for America helping Ukraine resist Russia,” said Amara.

Alexei said, “I said American aggression. When they go and occupy foreign states, not when they help allies.”

“Fair,” said Amara. “I’m just slightly defensive as I’m half American.”

“I can understand,” said Alexei. “I understand you a lot better than you know.”

The conversation went on like that for a while, but soon, they became distracted.
Alexei lost himself in his thoughts again, noting that while Amara had more agency than most people he knew, especially his age, there was a shyness about her. He mustered his composure, the sound of students quietly turning pages in the background, then asked, “You seem quite easily challenged sometimes. You ever feel like you could be more confident?”

Amara did. She had a lot of self-doubt, and she was quite shy even to express it, but she didn’t want to keep that secret from Alexei. The apparent sanctity of the space made Amara calmer and more willing to express her feelings.

“I feel like I’m an imposter,” Amara finally said, thinking of her advanced expository composition class the previous fall. “I have been brought up to think that if I can’t do the absolute best a person can do, I’m worth nothing. Just last year, I felt pressured to get an A in a difficult writing class, and I got an A-minus. My parents said it was still good, but I let myself down. So, you can imagine. I feel like Winthrop is too good for me. Like I need too much help because I wasn’t meant to be here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” said Alexei. “It’s a thing. And I felt that way for about a day after arriving here. But you showed me we’re all just normal people.”

Amara smiled at Alexei. A chair creaked softly nearby.

“You’re not normal. You’re anything but normal.”

“Don’t say that. My circumstances may not be, but I am.”

Amara processed that for a moment. She was moved by Alexei’s humility and wondered if he was trying to put on an image for her.

“Are you just saying that,” she asked.

“Why would I be?”

“To act modest.”

“No. I think that you should always tell the truth about how you feel,” said Alexei.

“What if a girl doesn’t look good in an outfit? Even then?”

“Even then.”

“That’s where we differ,” said Amara.

“Honest feedback may offend for a moment, but bad decisions hurt for a lot longer,” said Alexei. “Even relatively small ones.”

Amara decided to change the topic.

“Do you want to go to the international students' event tonight that Dr. Franklin talked about,” she asked.

Alexei remembered it too, and thought he’d get to know Amara better in a lower-stress situation than in class or doing homework.

“I was going to ask you the same thing at some point. Let’s go together,” said Alexei. “I think it’ll be amazing.”

Amara wondered if she really did want to go. She felt overwhelmed that day, yes, but she knew a fun distraction would be good for her. That said, she had a lot of homework still to do by Monday.

As she walked around after her final class, she thought, as she often did, that life was too short to miss out on an experience, so she decided to go.

In the early evening, as Amara was in her room waiting for the event, Thomas placed a call to her.

Amara answered, “Hi, Dad!”

“Hi, my girl. How are you liking Winthrop.”

Amara considered the question for a moment. There was so much for her to bring up. Her classes, Alexei, the prep school experience, how Rhode Island is different from Florida.

She ended up just saying, “It’s amazing. I’ve learned so much and made so many friends.”

“That’s great to hear. How are you liking the creative writing class,” asked Thomas.

Amara thought she’d prefer her creative writing class to global studies, but she found it slightly boring. As she reflected on her experiences, she decided to be honest.

“I like the global studies class a lot more. I’m learning a lot more.”

Thomas paused, surprised.

“Wow, that’s something. Tell me about these new friends.”

“There’s one in particular I’ve gotten close to.”

Thomas asked, “What’s her name?”

“His name is Alexei.”

Amara felt a tightness in her chest admitting that the person in question was a boy. She nervously played with the pen on her desk as she waited for her father’s inevitable questions about Alexei.

“Is he American?”

“He’s Ukrainian, but he lives in Belgium,” said Amara.

“Ukrainian. Wow. How is he dealing with the war?”

“He says it’s been hard.”

“I can imagine,” said Thomas.

Amara thought about Alexei’s admissions in their classes and how difficult it was for her to come to grips with her reactions. She decided to move to wrap up the conversation quickly.

“Listen, I’m about to go to an event. Friday night, you know? I’m really excited about it.”

“What event?”

“It’s for international students. Alexei will be there. I invited him, as a matter of fact. Seconds before he was going to invite me,” said Amara.

“Well, that sounds good. I hope you have a lot of fun,” said Thomas.

“I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

They shared goodbyes and Amara walked to the event.

At the event, the international students spent time talking with each other. Amara introduced Alexei to Monica, her creative writing classmate, who had come from Spain.

Towards the close of the event, a treasure hunt around the campus was announced; everyone was called to the center of the room. As they waited for the announcement, the students assembled openly talked to one another about what it would be, and as the rules were explained, they murmured excitedly.

Alexei considered that he might be competing against Amara, but the students present were then asked to form six teams of two, and Amara naturally found Alexei.

“I’ve posted ten clues in different places. They’re all QR codes that you can scan, except for the first, which I will text you in three...two...one,” said the advisor.

Amara and Alexei both received the text. It was a poem, and they noticed the first letter of each line spelled, “France.”

“It’s an acrostic,” Amara said. “Bet they’re all countries.”

They began work to decipher it. Students milled about the room, sharing an electric energy. Amara and Alexei began asking each other about what they thought of the clue.

A mad dash around the campus ensued, Amara and Alexei running around together like they had no other purpose. The second clue, spelling “Nicaragua,” led them to a third clue, plastered on a tree stump outside. Amara gestured for Alexei to come and look with her.

Amara high-fived Alexei as they found the code. She felt a sense of achievement in her quick work and anticipation of what was to come.

“You did good,” said Amara.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” said Alexei.

Another team came up behind them, two girls from Spain, one of whom was Monica.

“We found it first,” Amara teased.

“You won’t be saying that soon,” Monica responded.

The day faded into twilight outside, and they were alerted to the fact that clues three through five had to be found before dusk. The air felt heavy with intensity, and Amara felt like her senses were turned up higher. She noticed everything more intensely: the silhouettes of the trees, the smell of freshly cut grass, the sound of an airplane overhead.

It was a cool evening, and Amara preferred that to a hot evening. Still, it was a little too much with the time crunch.

Alexei asked Amara, “You okay?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“You seem a little agitated.”

“Just the excitement of this,” said Amara.

After they found clue five, they tried to decipher it. As Amara worked with Alexei, she considered how it was so much more fun to have someone to share her adventures with. She knew this, having friends back in Florida, but had never thought about it directly.

“Amara,” said Alexei.

“What?”

“You’re distracted.”

“Oh, sorry,” said Amara. She put her focus back on the clue.

The clue specifically mentioned the “north building.” On the fourth floor, where the clue led them, they knocked on a door.

“May I help you,” a man said in a surprised tone. A warm aroma of something fried wafted out, no doubt something left over from another professor. The room looked more dimly lit than the other rooms to which they had gone. It was quite different than  the general atmosphere of the building.

It was an instructor, Dr. Stevens, who was having a late snack in a faculty lounge. He looked puzzled.

“Sorry. I don’t think this is where we’re supposed to be,” said Amara. Her shoulders were tense, her eyes widened, and she gave an apologetic smile.

Amara looked at the clue and found they were supposed to be on the fourth floor of the south building.

“This says ‘south,’ she said to Alexei. You messed up.”

Alexei looked at the clue and said, “Oh my gosh. You’re right. I’m so sorry.”

They both felt a pang of guilt at the situation.

“What are you even doing,” he asked. “This area is off limits to students.”

Alexei looked nervous and wanted to explain but couldn’t find the right words.

“It’s a treasure hunt for an event we’re at,” said Amara.

He chuckled, amused at their mistake, then said, “Well, good luck. I hope you guys manage to win, otherwise you will have disrupted my break in vain."

He closed the door. While Alexei also laughed off the situation, Amara was indignant. They had wasted a significant amount of time and almost violated a school rule.

She said, “I’ll navigate from here. Okay?”

Alexei nodded.

Amara soon shared her insight with Alexei.

“It’s a lot more fun to have a partner in crime,” she said.

“In crime?”

“It’s a figure of speech. Someone to share your time, your fun experiences with.”

“Oh, I get you now,” said Alexei.

At the moment that they found the tenth clue, an announcement rang out.

“The treasure has not been found yet. You have ten minutes to finish.”

The clue’s acrostic was none other than, “Brazil.”

“It’s a sign,” said Amara. “It’s a sign that we’re going to win.”

Amara could barely keep her hands still as she realized what the implications were.

“We have to figure this out first,” said
Alexei. They scrambled to decode where the treasure might be in the building based on the hint. Amara realized that while Alexei made the reading miscue, he thought more rationally. Amara’s thoughts were more abstract.

They jointly decided that the most likely place was a classroom on the second floor. Amara checked her phone. Three minutes were on the clock.

They made a break for the classroom, only to find two other students holding the treasure chest and talking excitedly to each other.

“We beat you by literally two minutes,” said Joe, a student from Wales.

“Less,” said Manuel, his partner in the exercise, a student from the Philippines.

Amara told Alexei as they walked away, “Don’t be sad. We had a lot of fun, didn’t we?"

“Oh, I’m not sad,” said Alexei. “And you’re right. I’m glad we did this.”

Amara smiled.

“Well, I guess it’s time for bed,” she said. “You tired?”

“Yeah,” said Alexei. “That tired me out. I’ve had a long day, too. Classes and homework and then this. So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

Alexei walked up to his room. The big prize had escaped his grasp, but he was content with the fun he had. Even so, he worried about Amara. Would the missed chance worsen her feelings of inadequacy, however minimally?

In fact, lying in bed that night, Amara thought about her performance in the treasure hunt. The fact that she didn’t win should not have shaken her as badly as it did. She questioned whether she had held Alexei back after the miscue involving Dr. Stevens. Was it further proof that she was inadequate? That she didn’t deserve to go to Winthrop, even in the summer? Even though eight other students (nine, counting Alexei) who also went to Winthrop failed to find the treasure?

She reminded herself that it was a silly little issue and that she should sleep.

…

Despite losing the treasure hunt by minutes, Amara thought that the night went extremely well with Alexei, and offered to take him to an early dinner at a local diner the next night after they finished their homework. The diner was cozy and inviting in the classic American tradition, reminding Amara of a diner back in Florida, and the dining room was buzzing with activity. The sounds of conversations mixed with those of food preparation. The table at which they were seated faced a window, and people walked by on the street.

As alluded to days earlier, Alexei had trouble deciphering the menu.

“What is chicken fried steak,” he asked. “If it’s steak, how can it be chicken?”

“I think it’s steak that’s fried like chicken. Like, breaded and lightly fried,” said Amara.

Alexei said, “Oh, okay.  You know, I came to America on vacation when I was eleven. I went to a restaurant that served crab cakes, and I thought they were, like, sweet cakes made with crab. But I asked my dad, and he explained them to me.”

Amara laughed.

Soon, the food was served. She started eating, and Alexei took a bite of his sandwich. It was a delicious sweet and tangy pulled pork sandwich.

“So, how do you feel about America,” Amara asked.

Alexei thought about his first few experiences in the United States. He had made keen observations of American culture, and he realized that it wasn’t that hard to understand.

“I’m getting it. How do you find Winthrop?”

Amara thought of the events of the past two weeks, her relationship with Alexei, and the previous night’s treasure hunt. Her upside-down reflection on a metal spoon caught her eye. She considered the school’s prestige and then said, “You know when I said I felt like an imposter?”

“Yeah, I think that was yesterday. Gosh, was it yesterday?”

“Yeah,” said Amara. She leaned in and looked into Alexei’s hazel eyes. “And I really meant that. When I got into Winthrop, I felt like I was only accepted due to my Latin background, or my father having studied here. On my admission letter, it said, ‘We look forward to having a second-generation Winthrop student.’ Really, all my life, I’ve been pressured to be good enough, however others define it. This has led me only to fear not being good enough and not to actually be good enough. It begins a vicious cycle. And this vicious cycle has repeated throughout my whole life. Living in America, my composition class, getting into Winthrop. You know?”
Alexei thought about that, long and hard. He decided to share a piece of advice from his recent past.

“Hey. I know what you mean. When I got into private high school back in Belgium, I thought I wasn’t good enough either. I know all about that.”

“How have you dealt with it,” asked Amara.

“I’ve always tried to remember that no matter what I have felt, I have not been the first person to feel it.”

“That makes sense. How did you come to that conclusion?”

“Well,” said Alexei, “I read on the Internet that many people, especially our age, think they are very unique. I realized I was guilty of that, so I decided to change.”

Alexei kept eye contact, his demeanor calm and comforting.

“You are unique. Just not in that way,” said Amara.

“I know,” said Alexei. “And I’m glad you know.”

“You’ve helped me a lot,” Amara admitted. “I feel better about myself because of you.”

“Thanks, Amara. You have also helped me,” said Alexei.

“Really? How?”

“Taking my mind off my problems.”

Amara and Alexei concluded their dinner, and Alexei asked, “So, do you have any plans for tonight?”

“You know I don’t,” said Amara. “What are you thinking?”

“I was thinking we could walk around town this evening. It would be nice.  And there are some things I would like to talk about in private, away from everybody else.”

“I have a better idea.

“What,” asked Alexei.

“We sit out on the lawn together. It’ll be quiet, and if the weather cooperates, we can watch the sunset.”

“That’s perfect.”

Later that evening, they found a spot on the school lawn and talked some more as the sun set. It was a peaceful evening, and while a direct view of the sunset was not possible, they appreciated the sight of it, nonetheless. A storm had passed through the area a few hours earlier, and the still-broken sky was lit up dramatically in pastel colors as the sun sank lower. It had been a hot day, and the evening was still warm and agreeable as a balmy breeze blew.

The scene was tranquil; a deep peace had fallen over the area and calmed them. Alexei offered Amara his sturdy hand, which she accepted.

“Do you want to have lunch with me tomorrow,” said Alexei.

“As always,” said Amara. “Same table?”

“As always.”

He saw Amara smile and noticed that she wore her heart on her sleeve as far as facial expressions were concerned. He thought that it was beautiful, but it reminded him of something.

“Hey. This is what I wanted to bring up with you earlier.”

“Yes, Alexei?”

“You got choked up when I told my story of living in Belgium.”

Amara, suddenly self-conscious, laughed nervously. She knew Alexei noticed, but never thought he would raise the topic with her.

“Don’t feel bad. As I said, we’re all fighting fires,” said Alexei.

“It was because I just didn’t realize that you were fighting that specific fire,” said Amara.

He nodded. He considered his newfound friend and how she seemed to be the first person his age who truly understood him.

Alexei then said, “You shouldn’t feel too bad about that either. I’ve seen you come a long way when it comes to understanding me. This is in less than two weeks. Imagine how far you will go over the whole summer.”
Amara smiled. She hadn’t taken her eyes off him the whole time.

“And beyond that?”

“You’ll keep going,” said Alexei. “And you’re not alone.”

Amara smiled once more
.
“I’ve always felt like anyone who makes a difference in the life of one person changes the whole world for the better,” said Amara. She had considered this point for a long time, ultimately deciding that the world could only get better if individual people did.

“I agree with you, but do I meet that standard?”

“As far as I’m concerned, absolutely.”

Alexei smiled warmly and asked, “Do I make as much sense to you as you do to me?”

“That’s impossible to answer,” said Amara. “I’m not you. But you make a lot of sense to me. A lot. Hey. I realized something.”

“What,” asked Alexei.

“Maybe I should have lower standards for myself,” said Amara. “Or am I setting myself up for failure?”

“I think you should pace yourself. Set the standards you know you can meet, then set higher ones,” said Alexei.

Amara considered this and agreed. Maybe Alexei was right. In any case, she was seriously reconsidering her idea that she was an imposter or inadequate.

Hues of pink, orange, and deep blue in the sky had faded to the more subdued indigo and periwinkle of deep twilight. Amara thought about the sunsets back home in Florida and how they often looked similar. It made her miss home, even though she was looking at a similar sky.

They shared a silent moment, merely enjoying each other’s company and acknowledging they couldn’t think of anything more to talk about, at least for the day.

A distant clock chimed nine times, then once to signify the quarter-hour.

“It’s late,” said Alexei. “We better go in.”

Amara wanted to stay out a little longer but accepted that whatever moment they would have next would have to wait until the next day. Even so, she was grateful for Alexei’s company and a wonderful evening together. Amara decided to take Alexei’s advice about pacing herself to heart.

Alexei, meanwhile, had always been told he was a caring person. Often, he desired to be tough, as if “tough” and “caring” were mutually exclusive. But now, he realized this kind of thing is what was meant: genuine concern for people.

They walked, slowly and reverently, to the door of the north building. The prospect of a good night’s rest and an exciting new day enticed them, and they were greeted by a familiar warmth as they walked in.

Just before they split up to go to their respective rooms, Amara said to Alexei, “Hey. I’m glad we found each other. You make me reconsider my self-doubt. Thank you.”

Alexei took another two steps away as Amara spoke, then stopped, looked back, and said, “I’m glad we found each other, too. You want to know something?”

“Yes. Always.”

“Nine years ago, when I had just moved to Belgium, I was a loner. It was hard for me to connect with others in the strange new world I was in. My classmates would bully me because I didn’t speak French, only Ukrainian and some English. That persisted for two years. But you, you don’t judge me. And if someone told me then that I would have a connection like the one I have with you back then, I’d tell him that he was ridiculous. So, thank you. For being the friend that I always wanted.”

Amara smiled at him, fighting back tears. What Alexei had said gave her faith, if only for a moment, that she was good enough to make it. In that moment, she wondered why she would have thought otherwise.

“I’m so glad I could be,” Amara said.

“You’ve been great, too. So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Sounds good,” said Alexei.

Alexei looked back at her as she walked away to see Amara’s thoughtful expression. Amara took a deep breath to steady herself.

Later that night, she considered what Alexei had said on the lawn about how far she had come and how he had prompted that. He had helped lead her not only to understand others but to understand herself. She knew she owed him a debt of gratitude, but that he would disagree. In his mind, he did no more than what he wanted to do. Still, she was appreciative. And knowing that she had someone who made her feel more valuable, she went to bed feeling warm inside. It had been a long time.