One Year

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Summary:

My name is Anya Barkov. I was born in Russia, seven years after the cold war ended. My mother was smuggled out of the country months after I was born, along with my Aunt Sofiya and a few men from her dance company. My father was left in Russia, I haven't heard if he is still alive or not. My mother and her little band of misfits had gone to Romania and started a dance company, allowing our little family to grow and travel.

When I was four years old, my mother died from tuberculosis. By that time, we had over thirty people in our company; they were mainly all men and all gay. My legal guardians became my Aunt Sofiya and my mother's best friend; my family became the other thirty men in what would become my company. I mean, it wasn't mine at four years old, my aunt and Anton (mother's best friend) would run it until I was eighteen. My best friend and one of the youngest members of the company is Eric Pierce; French born dancer that was abandoned at birth. He's three and a half years older than me.

As the years went on, a few people left; they said it didn't feel the same without my mother. By the time I turned ten, we only had about fifteen people left; all men, all gay. And they were my family; since I was born; these were the only ones who stayed after my mother died. My Aunt and Anton had moved the company to the US, everyone becoming legal citizens with in the first year. Anton had enrolled every one under the age of eighteen into an academy for the arts in Boston; he decided that we needed an education. And the others would work for the academy in turn for staying close to us minors.

When we weren't at the academy, we were on tour; which was about nine months out of the year. We dance all around the country, dancing everything; from ballet to jazz to tap, hip-hop and Irish dancing. Anton and Aunt Sofiya would drive us all in a van when we weren't flying to each destination. Right now, we're living at the academy; it's our off season.

Eric and I spent the majority of our time in the dance studio, either teaching a class or just spending quality time together. I was worried about him a lot, he was the only one of my 'brothers' who hasn't fallen in love yet and he won't talk to any guys yet. Luckily I have 92 days to find him a boyfriend.

And so our tale begins.

*

My name is Anya Barkov. I was born in Russia, seven years after the cold war ended. My mother was smuggled out of the country months after I was born, along with my Aunt Sofiya and a few men from her dance company. My father was left in Russia, I haven't heard if he is still alive or not. My mother and her little band of misfits had gone to Romania and started a dance company, allowing our little family to grow and travel.

When I was four years old, my mother died from tuberculosis. By that time, we had over thirty people in our company; they were mainly all men and all gay. My legal guardians became my Aunt Sofiya and my mother's best friend; my family became the other thirty men in what would become my company. I mean, it wasn't mine at four years old, my aunt and Anton (mother's best friend) would run it until I was eighteen. My best friend and one of the youngest members of the company is Eric Pierce; French born dancer that was abandoned at birth. He's three and a half years older than me.

As the years went on, a few people left; they said it didn't feel the same without my mother. By the time I turned ten, we only had about fifteen people left; all men, all gay. And they were my family; since I was born; these were the only ones who stayed after my mother died. My Aunt and Anton had moved the company to the US, everyone becoming legal citizens with in the first year. Anton had enrolled every one under the age of eighteen into an academy for the arts in Boston; he decided that we needed an education. And the others would work for the academy in turn for staying close to us minors.

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