passed by. At twenty meters he fell behind his mother, who was ahead.
– And are you a Valik?
– Do not you see that it's me? I answered him.
– What did you do in the pharmacy?
– Thus I bought a cure for evil.
– There is no such medicine. – Authoritatively stated Ochkolyas.
– You look! – I solemnly showed him two packages.
It's glucose. – Without batting an eyelid, answered Lenya.
I did not know yet what glucose is. But there was no escape, and I asked:
– And what is it? Glue, glucose?
– And let me show you.
– On. – I gave Lena a bag. He busily unfolded it, took out one large pill and put it in his mouth. Then he took out another one. Stretching to me, he said:
– Take it, try it. They are sweet and very tasty.
"Lyonya," her mother called to Lenya. "How long will I wait for you?" Well, ka runs to me. I'll take you on a bum.
Ochkolyas with a half- eaten packet rushed to his mother, forgetting to return it to me. But I already did not care. Again deception and disappointment. The pharmacist gave ordinary glucose for the medicine. But where can I understand the trick of the pharmacist, because this glucose, as a cure for evil, helped me to recover from the grievances and get myself back to normal. I gave a new impetus to training self- control in stressful situations in the future and helped me to realize that we need to weigh our actions and actions in order to keep calm and self- control…
– I would take him to us. Very sorry for the boy.
– No. Why do I always have to bring you back to our field of vibrations?
– I remember our tasks here. I remember that there will not be one, there will not be you, the same will happen to me.
– Remember we are not alone on Earth and we, like this defenseless boy, have many enemies here.
– And where is it to CHDCU (Coalition of Highly Developed Civilizations of the Universe) look, ah, commander? – The voice sounds ironic.
Chapter 5
I urgently needed a friend, a sincere, strong adviser, who would replace my father. To be with a friend always and everywhere together, to feel his protection and support, is not this happiness. Such a friend did not have.
One day from Pereyaslav Khmelnitsky came to my grandmother her nephew Uncle Kolya, the son of her brother Gregory. He was on a business trip in Kiev and drove to us with a mission from Grandfather Gregory to send a letter to my grandmother. In a letter, Grandfather Grigoris invited my grandmother to come to visit, referring to the fact that because of his sores he cannot start on trips. My grandmother responded by dictating my mother a reply message, in which she promised that she would definitely get out and leave when she was ready for the trip. Uncle Kolya was busy with me all day, playing ball. And after dinner we go with him to the park. There, along the avenue of ancient lime trees, planted since the time of the sugar plant Tereshchenko, we observed the way of the ants. As these toilers, moving one after another, dragged on themselves, who a piece of the stem of grass, who is a tiny leaf, and who is a fragment of a black wing of a beetle. Uncle Kolya, while walking with me park, told me different stories in which heroes were bold and courageous travelers who overcome adversities that met in their path. I was interested with him. And how I regretted having spent the night with us, he left early in the morning.
Loneliness was sweeping the wave, suppressing the spiritual impulses to the beautiful vision of the World. Everything seemed gloomy, unfriendly, and hostile. It is especially painful in the moments of not understanding by children, relatives and relatives, and I have invented loyal friends for myself. So my friend became a penknife, which helped to create from cut twigs real "swords" or "guns", which I fought with evil nettles, feeling at this moment strong and brave.
Perovny knife gave me a cousin of Volodya. He was the son of Aunt Kelly, my mother's sister. He graduated from an agricultural technical school in the field of horticulture, and his mother invited him to clip the apple trees in our garden. The knife was horticultural for cutting cuttings when chips were sliced. At the end of the blade there was a special protrusion for opening the incision of the bark, and very sharp. I also had a colored glass, blue – blue, in which the world appeared in such blue colors as in a movie, and the birds, and leaves in it, and grass and sky, everything was blue. And the sky during the day seemed as it was at night. Only the sun, as bright as ever, and look at it through the blue glass is as painful as without a glass. Still my friend was a cockerel. He walked proudly around the yard. His multi- colored tail developed in the wind, attracting the attention of layers. Cocky had a good fight. And although I was rather afraid of him, I considered the cockerel to be my friend, because he was never gentle and was always bullying me. Sometimes, spread the wing, and sideways – sideways approaching, bellicose crying like a turkey. I scare the bully with a "saber", but it's all in vain. With a wild clucking, the cock jumps to me on the head, beak on the head and forces me to flee. I hide behind the massive door of a wooden corridor. A cockerel with a view of the winner, pacing, decorously turning the sides of the layers, they say, look what kind of hero I am. Bitter moments of loneliness…
The last year before the school was particularly difficult. A summer kindergarten for the children of collective farm workers "Bolshevik" was opened, in the winter Shpitkovsky kindergarten did not work. Grandma was going to take me away.
"Are you lying down again?" She called out to me. I had already dozed off, lying on the stove, dreaming of my friends. "Come on, get down, otherwise it will be nine o'clock soon," Grandmother insisted inexorably.
I reluctantly got off the stove. I took off the long saurian sisters, who served me as a nightdress. He put on his pants, shorts on single harness- suspender pants, sleeveless and ran out barefoot in the yard. There was already waiting for me cockerel. The bird, seeing its enemy, glanced sideways at the eye, and went on the offensive, trotting violently from foot to foot, as if imitating a heavy goose. But the grandmother creaked openly, opening the corridor door and a grandmother appeared on the threshold. The rooster reluctantly retreated, pretending that he was collecting grain, and he had no business for the boy. Grandmother, being entangled at the stove, was late with her grandson. But, nevertheless, my grandmother took my hand, and we set off. I had no choice but to follow the grumbling grandmother. We went out into the street. Then the road stretched along the avenue of century- old lime trees, the remains of an ancient landowner's park, the violent bloom that greeted me and my grandmother. Suddenly my grandmother stopped and looked me over:
"Well, you are mine, to whom do you seem like, eh?" She clasped, and grabbed me firmly by the shoulders, pulled me to her. I shook my head, but my grandmother inexorably began to lick the grimy cheeks, spitting at the dirty saliva. "Washing", thus, my face, she led me to the kindergarten. And, me, I did not want to go there. I did not want to part with my friends the Knife, Blue Glass, and Cock; they were not allowed to take them with me. I unwillingly trailed behind, deliberately lagged behind the hurrying grandmother. And the chestnut trees greeted with green leaves. The park was full of friendly hymns.
"Yes, go faster!" She urged me. And I added a step, but as soon as my grandmother turned away, walked a little forward, again lagged behind, and finally decided to hide behind the trunk of a spreading chestnut.
– You see what a child, hid! From the scoundrel! Come on, come out! "Grandmother, grumbling, thus, came back, passed by,
