Page 6 of Breaker

My lip trembles as another black curl hits the green and white tiles by my boots. “Yes,otets.”

“Tell me then,” Father says.

“You saw me in a blue room. I was cold and hungry. I had sunken cheeks and tears and snot and looked so sad that you knew you had to rescue me.”

“And I did,” Father says. “I unlocked the door and let my son out of that room.”

My eyes follow as another lock hits the floor. My belly squiggles, but not in a happy way.

“And I told my new son he was going to be a soldier. He was going to be my best son. You. You were going to grow up and go to school and learn from me.”

I nod, my finger tapping my thigh like it will stop the tight feeling that’s growing in my chest again as he pulls another lock. The snipping soundsnipsthrough my chest and more hair falls.

“Do you remember why I chose you?” Father asks, setting the scissors down on the table next to my empty breakfast plate. He leans down, propping his hands on his thighs to look into my eyes. “Why I rescued you?”

I rip my eyes from the plate, wishing I’d had enough time to clean up before Father got here. He doesn’t like messes when he comes to visit. “Because looking at me was like looking in a mirror.”

Father taps his cheek, right under his eye. He stands upright and Nanny hands him the clippers she uses to shave Fallon’s hair sometimes. The click followed by the buzz of the motor makes my heart jump. The cold metal teeth scrap myscalp and more hair falls in short clumps. Father runs it over my head, shaving it clean like the sides of his hair.

When he turns the clippers off, my body jolts at the sudden quiet.

“Why tears?” Father says, brushing clumps of hair from my gray uniform. “It’s just hair, my son.”

I shake my head, swiping at my wet cheeks. He doesn’t understand. Everyone in the village looks like Father. I’ve only ever seen a few delivery drivers or the girls from the traveling gypsy vans with hair like mine. I like having different hair. It makes me feel special, like Father says I am, but now that it’s gone, so I won’t be anymore.

Father squeezes my shoulder and leads me to the small sitting room. When we reach the fireplace, he picks me up so I can see my face in the mirror with the gold frame. I blink, taking in the sight of my shaved head. It gleams, the bright morning light coming through the open curtains, making my scalp look like smooth polished wood.

I run a finger over my bald head and Father smiles.

“I don’t look like me,” I tell him as tears leak down my cheeks.

“You look just like yourotets,“ Father says. He holds up his hand. “See? I have five fingers, like you.”

I glance at his fair skin and long fingers, then hold up my hand next to his, palm facing the mirror.

“See, son? Five fingers and two arms and legs, a mouth, and nose, and two eyes.” Father hikes me up higher. “And I see my son’s eyes that look just like his father’s.”

My light blue eyes meet his in the mirror. Father always does this when I tell him someone from the village says something about me looking different. He’ll hold me up in front of the gold mirror and tell me we are the same. That we have the same number of fingers and toes. That we have arms and legs,and if we get cut, we bleed red, and if anyone ever tries to tell me differently, I punch them in the gut. Father always pretends to hit my stomach when he says this and I always laugh, which I think may be infectious too because he laughs with me. He never mentions we don’t have the same skin, just that we have the same eyes, silvery blue, he says, like ice over a lake on a bright winter morning.

Now that I don’t have my hair, I can see that I look like myotets.

We have the same eyes.

I smile at him in the mirror, and he smiles back, showing white teeth just like mine.

Father sets me down. He grips my hand and pulls me to the door. “Come, my newsoldat. Let’s meet your brothers.”

Nanny cries as we walk through the door, and I want to hug her, but Father won’t let me.

“Soldiers don’t need hugs and kisses, my son.”

When we reach the shiny black car, Commander Maxim opens the back door and I climb in, making sure not to scrape my boots on the leather seat.

As Maxim drives us to the school, I remember to sit still and not kick my feet against the back of his seat. Maxim gets cross when I do, and Father has to remind him I’m not asoldatyet and to be kind. The times he’s said this to Maxim, I always feel sick after because Maxim will look at me and smile big, like a wolf. But it’s not infectious, even though it makes me feel like I have a stomach bug.

As we pull to the front of the school, a loud beep blasts through the open car window and I sit upright, trying to see. The front gate grinds open, and after we pass, it closes, slamming hard enough that my heart punches into my ribs. Like the monster in my chest is excited we’re here.

I’ve only been to the school two times. Last month and then right after father rescued me, but I barely remember that day. I just remember the color blue. Blue like the chipped paint on the statues at church where the nuns teach me how to talk like Father, and where Nanny will leave me sometimes when Father comes to visit her and not me. She always says it’s to cut his hair, but sometimes he doesn’t look any different, so I think they may be secretly eating the red candies she keeps under her mattress, and she just doesn’t want me to know.

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