Second Hand [manxboy]

Chapter 3

"I don't have to wear the uniform to tour the school, right?" Nicolai asked, showing up for breakfast in a pair of dark grey jeans and a blue shirt.

"Mm, well no. You don't get the uniform until you start. But maybe you should at least wear a belt?" Yakov said after a gulp of orange juice.

"My pants aren't falling down, why would I need a belt?" Nicolai countered, sliding into a seat at the table and going for the bacon.

"Just thought... well never mind. I'm sorry I can't go with you today, but my name is a bit well known. I figure you don't want that going around school." Yakov sighed and forced a smile.

"It's fine." Nicolai focused on eating his breakfast then, and Yakov couldn't think of anything else to talk about.

As they were finishing up eating, Miroslav showed up. The maid gave him a cup of coffee and he sat across from Nicolai at the table. "Are you almost ready? The Dean will be expecting us at nine."

"Yeah I'm ready whenever," Nicolai answered, finishing off the last of his precious bacon and milk.

"Remember we can make donations to get him a spot," Yakov said quickly. "And make sure their Russian program is good. It'd be nice if the instructor was a native speaker. And for him to get all of the classes he wants. Nicolai, do you want us to get you out of gym?"

"If I need gym I'll take it." Nicolai picked up his plate and got up from the table. A maid swung by and took the plate out of his hands before he could do anything with it. He frowned as she whizzed off and out of the dining room. "I can take care of my own damn dishes," he grumbled sourly. "Oh. Um. About my room—"

"What about your room?" Yakov questioned worriedly.

"Just, I don't want anyone else coming in, not even for cleaning. I can do my own cleaning," Nicolai explained quietly.

"I don't see what the problem is." Yakov frowned and shot an expectant look at Miroslav.

"He wants his own space, no intrusions," Miroslav informed. "Nothing against you—probably something else."

"I thought we were talking English here," Nicolai snapped.

"I'm sorry, he's just trying to help me understand why. But if that's what you want, I'll tell the maids. Just see them for the cleaning supplies as you need it, and we'll keep out," Yakov smoothed it over quickly. "But it'll be your space."

"Thanks," Nicolai grumbled. "Anyways, I'm ready to go whenever."

Miroslav got a quick refill of coffee before taking Nicolai out to the car. "Your father just wants to try and understand you. He'll ask questions to do that, not to make you mad."

"And if it makes me feel uncomfortable?" Nicolai muttered sourly.

"Then you tell him or me and it'll stop," Miroslav answered simply.

Nicolai gave him a dubious look. They got into the car for a trip across town. Nicolai was the only one not in uniform, adults excluded. They met with the Dean and he spoke about the expectations of the school.

"Nicolai comes from a Russian heritage. How's your Russian teacher here? Are they native speaker?" Miroslav questioned.

"Um, yes. Mrs. Romanov came to America in her twenties... if you'd like, we can stop in on her class for a few minutes," the dean suggested.

They followed him through the school though the halls were mostly empty. "Tardiness and skipping aren't something we tolerate, from looking at your previous attendance records," the Dean said pointedly.