‘K’ is for KGB excerpt

Soviet Statue of worker brandishing hammer and sickle

Soviet Statue

The ProjectA novel-in-progress featuring an unusual duo living in an unnamed city in the Pacific Northwest. I wrote the excerpt below for a YA fiction workshop at a writers conference in 2014.

‘K’ is for KGB

When you live with an ex-general from a former Soviet Socialist Republic, it is near-impossible to have a sleepover with your friends. It is even more difficult to convince him to let you go to one.

“Absolutely not!” Yuri insisted before I had even finished the question.

“You’re so unfair!” I shouted back, crossing my arms and stamping my foot. Not the most dignified display, sure, but come on, what 15-year-old isn’t allowed to go to a sleepover at a friend’s house? It’s not like there were going to be boys there. (I didn’t think so, anyway…hadn’t asked, and it didn’t seem like a good topic to bring up right this second.)

“Unfair?” Yuri asked incredulously. “I am looking out for you, little one. There are bad people in the world, as you well know. You know the risks. For both of us. Plus, I thought we were going to have a movie marathon this weekend. I already rented the great films of Soviet Cinema. Eisenstein. Tarkovsky. Dovzhenko. Gaidai. Kalatozov. Abuladze! Parajanov?” With a list like that, how could I resist? I thought sarcastically, although I was fighting back a smile at his earnest attempts to persuade me to stay home.

“Look,” I said more calmly. “Isn’t it better that I do the things that a normal 15-year-old would do? ‘Draw less attention to myself by being part of the herd.’ You taught me that, remember? If I don’t go to Becca’s sleepover, I’m going to be the weird kid nobody likes…” Yuri sighed, and I swear he rolled his eyes at me and muttered “Kids!” before answering me.

“Fine, if you get me a list of everyone who will be there, then we will see.” I grinned, knowing he had already agreed (even if he didn’t realize that yet), and picked up my backpack as I skipped to the door of the warehouse-turned-apartment.

“Thanks, Yuri, you’re the best!” I yelled over my shoulder as I walked out the door, bound for school.