— We do if there’s suspicion, — he said.
People started whispering. The word “suspicion” was like gasoline. Rogov raised his voice as if doing a good deed.
— Zinaida Petrovna, don’t be stubborn. Either you get rid of them, or I will. For real.
Zinaida Petrovna felt her world collapsing. And at that moment, she saw something: the torn pocket on Matvey’s pants, Gleb’s trembling chin, Denis’s desperate anger. They were children. They were hungry, and now they were being humiliated. Zinaida Petrovna took a deep breath, gathered all her courage, and spoke clearly, for everyone to hear.
— You want to take my spot? Take it, — she said. — But I will not chase away three children like dogs. If it’s unpleasant for you to see hunger, it means you’ve never known it yourself.
The street fell silent for a second. Some looked down, others felt embarrassed. But Rogov was not one to feel shame.
— Ah, so that’s how it’s going to be, — he said, smiling. — Fine.
He signaled to the inspector with the folder.
— Write it down, — he ordered. — Refusal to cooperate. Presence of minors in inappropriate conditions. Sanitary risk.
Zinaida Petrovna felt her legs tremble, but she didn’t back down.
Then the man with the walkie-talkie stepped toward the cart, reaching out as if to turn off the gas or knock something over. And in that movement, his gaze fell on Gleb’s chest, where the pendant with the three stars was visible. The man froze for a second, and his face changed.
— Hey, — he said quietly. — That symbol…
Gleb covered his chest with his hand. Zinaida Petrovna noticed. So did Rogov.
— What is it? — he asked quickly, moving closer.
The man with the walkie-talkie hesitated.
— Nothing… — he muttered. — Nothing…
But it was too late. Rogov looked at Gleb more closely, as if for the first time seeing not a dirty child, but something else. Something that could be worth money. And Zinaida Petrovna felt a surge of anxiety inside because she understood the real danger at that moment. It wasn’t about them being called vagrants. It was about someone having just recognized them. The words hung in the air, dangerous and small: “That symbol…”
Zinaida Petrovna quickly stood in front of the children, shielding them with her thin body and stained apron. Not much, but a wall nonetheless.
— Enough! — she said firmly. — Want to find fault? Find fault with something else. There’s no crime here.
Rogov smirked, but the smirk was no longer mocking, but calculating.
— Zinaida Petrovna, I just want to help you, — he said. — Your kindness is getting you into trouble, and the street doesn’t forgive.
Zinaida Petrovna looked at him as one looks at a person pretending to be a friend.
— I don’t need your help, — she replied.
Rogov waved his hand as if giving up, but his gaze remained fixed on Gleb’s neck.
— Well, alright, — he said. — Don’t say I didn’t warn you later.
The inspector put away his folder, not finishing his threat. The man with the walkie-talkie avoided looking at the children. All three walked away, but not in a hurry. They left with that false slowness that says, “I saw something, and I’ll be back.”
When they finally turned the corner, Zinaida Petrovna exhaled as if she had been holding her breath since they appeared. The children stood motionless.
— Ma’am, — whispered Matvey, — we’ll leave.
Zinaida Petrovna looked at the street, at her stall, at the setting sun, and made a decision without yet saying it out loud.
— Today, you’re not going anywhere, — she said. — Not under the bridge, not anywhere.
Gleb’s eyes widened.
— But if we stay, they’ll close your stall.
Zinaida Petrovna gripped the ladle like a staff.
— A stall can be lost, — she said. — You can’t.
Denis looked down for a second, swallowing something. Then he spoke in a quiet, almost shy voice:
— We don’t want to be a burden.
Zinaida Petrovna looked at him.
— You’re not a burden, — she said. — You’re children.
The evening continued. Two customers came, and Zinaida Petrovna served them with quick hands, as always. The children stayed aside, watching quietly. And in their watching, Zinaida Petrovna noticed something. They weren’t street kids in the way people think. They didn’t know how to steal with cunning. They knew how to endure. When a customer left extra change, Matvey saw it but didn’t reach for it. When a woman was distracted with her bag open, Gleb glanced over and subtly closed it so no one would steal from it. When a neighborhood boy laughed at them, Denis didn’t respond with his fists, only looked with quiet rage. Zinaida Petrovna realized: these three were hungry, but they had internal rules, even if they didn’t know where they came from.
When it got dark, Zinaida Petrovna closed her stall, put away the jars, turned off the gas, covered the pot, and looked at the box of change. The day’s earnings were meager, but it no longer seemed so important.
— Let’s go, — she said to them. — Let’s take a walk.
The children exchanged a look of disbelief.
— Where? — asked Gleb.
Zinaida Petrovna nodded to the side.
— To my place. It’s cramped, but at least the rain doesn’t get in.
The three froze.
— No, — whispered Matvey. — We don’t want trouble.
Zinaida Petrovna cut him off:
— Trouble has already found you. And if you go under the bridge, I don’t know if I’ll see you tomorrow.
The children were silent, and their silence was an agreement.
They walked through narrow streets. Zinaida Petrovna in front, the cart’s wheels squeaking, the children behind, sticking together. From time to time, one of them would look back as if fearing they were being followed. When they reached a modest room, Zinaida Petrovna opened the door. Inside, it smelled of cheap soap and stored bread. A simple bed, an old chair, a small corner with an icon and an extinguished lamp.
— Here, — she said, — no luxury, but there’s a roof.
The children entered slowly, as if the room were a sacred place. Zinaida Petrovna took out some stale bread and broke it into three pieces.
— Eat a little, — she said, — and tomorrow we’ll decide what to do.
Matvey took a piece.
— Why are you helping us? — he asked, not understanding.
Zinaida Petrovna paused for a second. She couldn’t explain with fancy words, so she just told the simple truth:
— Because if I were on the street, I’d want someone to see the person in me.
The children looked down. Zinaida Petrovna sat on the chair and looked at each of them in turn.
— Now, the conditions, — she said firmly. The three looked up. — No stealing here, no lying here. And if someone is looking for you, you tell me. You don’t hide.
Gleb clutched the pendant under his shirt.
— We don’t know who’s looking for us, — he said.
Zinaida Petrovna looked at him.
— Someone recognized that symbol, — she said. — And when someone recognizes something in you, it’s not always out of love.
Denis frowned.
— Then what should we do?
Zinaida Petrovna took a deep breath.
— We’ll make a deal. You help me at the stall, — she continued. — You clean, arrange things, carry things, so no one can say you only eat. And I’ll give you food and a roof until we find out the truth about that symbol.
The three exchanged a look. And for the first time, something like pride lit up in their eyes.
— Yes, — said Matvey.
— Yes, — repeated Gleb.
— Yes, — said Denis, the toughest one, but with a slight tremor in his voice…
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