The next day, I saw Mischa during lunch. He sat alone, picking at his food with one of the plastic cafeteria forks.
Noel nudged me. "Be a good Samaritan and sit next to him. He looks so lonely."
"The guy hates me."
"No, he doesn't.'
"Are you sure?"
He sighed. "Let me paint a picture for you: You've just moved from the home you've known your whole life. Ripped from your family, your friends, everything you know and love, only to get plopped down in the shitty little town of Uranium City, Saskatchewan. You know no one, and everything you once held dear is miles and miles overseas."
I clenched my jaw. Noel knew exactly how to get to me. "God, I hate you. You're so dramatic"
"Love you too. Go sit with him."
He pushed me forward. "Fine. Maybe I will."
I sat down next to Mischa, who hardly looked up from his untouched food. "What do you want?"
Before I could answer, he looked up and his face softened, but only slightly. "Oh. It's you. Y/n."
I nodded. "That would be me."
"Why are you sitting here? Don't you have friends?" Mischa muttered.
I glared over at Noel, who smiled smugly from his table with Ricky and Constance.
"I do have friends. I just chose to sit here."
He managed a dry laugh. "Why? I looked lonely? Sad? I don't want to be your charity project."
"You? Charity project? That sounds like something Ocean would do. But me? No. I'm not like that," I assured him.
"Then why?"
"I thought you were interesting. That's why."
"Interesting why?"
I smiled. "You ask a lot of questions."
"And you should answer them."
He looked at me expectantly.
"I don't know why. It's just something about you that's interesting. I can't lay my finger on it."
"You can just say you feel bad for me, you know."
I shrugged. "I don't feel- I mean- Well, yeah. I guess I kind of feel bad for you."
"Your pity doesn't help anything," he said, continuing to move his broccoli around his tray.
"You're right, but it does give you a friend."
Mischa raised an eyebrow. "A friend?"
"It's me, dumbass. I'm your friend," I laughed a bit, and he smiled a bit.
"I didn't ask you to be my friend."
"Yeah, but you might as well get one. The people at this school can be... brutal, to say the least."
"You're funny. They're not going to get to me. That's not going to happen."
I sighed melodramatically. "I suppose you don't need a friend, then."
I began to stand up.
"Don't leave!" Mischa grabbed my wrist and pulled me back down before I could. "I mean... I guess a friend would be alright. You never know."
I shook my head. "No, no. I guess I'll go and sit with my other friends."
Mischa scowled. "Don't be like that."
"Like what?"
"Don't make me look like I like you more than I do."
I gave him a wary look. "How much do you actually like me, then?"
He looked up at the ceiling. "A lot, actually. Not too much, though. You're not too bad."
A lot.
"I'll settle. But 'not too bad'? Not too bad in comparison to..."
He pointed across the cafeteria with his fork. "Red hair."
I stifled a laugh. "That's Ocean. She's not known to be the most likable. She's not too bad once you get to actually be friends with her. Although not many people are actually friends with her."
"What about your other friend? The one that you were with earlier?"
"Noel?"
"Yeah. Is he your friend? No, no, the other one," Mischa shook his head. "Boyfriend. That's it."
I raised my eyebrows and laughed. "Noel? No! Of course not. He's... never mind."
"Дякую, Боже." He shut his eyes and smiled. "He seems stuck up."
"He's not stuck up. He seems like that on the outside. He just really hates living here."
"Does Ocean hate living here, too?" He asked.
"No... she's just stuck up all the time. -I mean ambitious. Very ambitious," I added quickly.
"What does that word mean? Ambitchous? Because she acts like a-"
I laughed. "Ambitious. Not ambitchous. She might act like a bitch sometimes, I suppose. But it means driven. She knows what she wants and she knows how to push herself to get it. Even if that means belittling others. Making people feel bad. Shoving people out of the way."
Mischa tilted his head. "You are ambitious. But not in the bad way like her."
"How do you know that? You haven't even known me for even twenty-four hours!"
"It feels like it's been longer. So much longer."
I wasn't sure how to respond in that moment. "Nice?"
He continued. "It's weird. When you think about someone, It's like you can see more about them. But if you think about them too much, you confuse yourself. It's funny."
"You think of me often?" I asked quietly.
He tilted his head upwards. "Well, in the past day, yeah. Something about you is just... I don't know. It's like I hate being around you-"
"-Thanks."
"-Let me finish. What I was going to say is that I hate being around you for the same reason I like being around you."
"That being?"
"Two reasons, actually. I usually say things to irritate people. Get a reaction. But you don't do that. You're really calm. And forgiving. You don't get angry."
"I've been told that."
I thought back to the conversation Noel and I had last night about the volcano and the water.
"You also remind me so, so much of someone. Someone I held dearly. I guess that's why I think I know you so well."
"If you don't mind me asking, who?" I sat forward in my seat.
"Her name was Talia. My darling Talia," he trailed off wistfully.
My heart sank, but I'm not sure exactly why.
He shook his head, snapping out of his trance. "But Talia, she, uh, she didn't hold me as dearly as I held her. I wanted her to, so, so badly. And then I had to leave Ukraine."
"I'm sorry. That's- that's terrible. I don't know what to say," I shook my head.
"Don't feel sorry. It's not your fault. You don't need to hear my sob story. I'll stop."
I looked up at him. "No, no. I don't mind. Even if it is a sob story, it's your sob story. I want to know more about you, if you'll oblige."
"Oblige?" he echoed.
"If you'll allow yourself to," I explained.
Mischa hesitated. I half-expected him to say no just like he did yesterday in chorus class.
"Well, I've lived in Ukraine my whole life. My father died when I was seven, so I was raised by my mother for several years. I met Talia when I was twelve, and I was absolutely in love with her. She never loved me back, no. But she did love one of my best friends. I wasn't jealous, though. How could I be? She was happy, and I guess that's all that mattered. Anyways, years went by and I still loved her.. She was always just out of reach, much like my mother's health. My mother was a wonderful woman who did wonderful things. She helped clean up at Chernobyl. She got sick because of that. Very sick, and she died."
He stared straight ahead, expressionless. "I was left with no legal guardians, so I was put up for adoption. The adoption agency lied about my age, and some couple in Uranium City thought they were getting a beautiful little boy, barely two. They weren't too thrilled when he turned out to be a teenager."
There was a moment where both of us were silent. Mischa was stoic, jaw clenched, still staring straight ahead. I put my hand on top of his and gave it a squeeze. He relaxed.
"I'm sorry. I don't know why I told you all this. Like I said, I don't need your pity. Don't tell anyone else this. I don't need everyone thinking I'm some poor orphan boy, because that's not who I am."
"It's safe with me."
"I know."