Four and a half years
Five months after the accident, Ando came to the hospital with his new parents to have his cast removed. Throughout this time, his leg had been unbearably itchy, and the boy used any long, thin object—a ruler, a pencil, a juice straw—to scratch the skin under the cast.
"Just a moment, Ando, be patient," said the doctor, taking out massive medical scissors that resembled garden shears.
Ando looked at the instrument in horror. The scissors seemed enormous, with long metal handles and short, thick blades.
"Will it hurt?" he whispered, clutching his adoptive mother's hand.
"No, it will just tickle a little," the doctor smiled and got to work.
Click! Click! The scissors crunched as they bit into the hardened cast. In some places, the cast had stuck to the skin, and the doctor had to be particularly careful. When the last piece of cast was removed, Ando stared at his leg in surprise—it was thin, pale, and covered with flakes of dead skin.
"Ew, how gross!" exclaimed Tasha, who had also come to the hospital.
"Tasha!" said mother sternly.
"Don't worry, in a couple of weeks it will be as good as new," the doctor winked at Ando. "Just don't overdo it right away with running and jumping."
At home, Ando and Tasha quickly found common ground. One day, when dad stayed with them while mom was at work, the children locked themselves in the kitchen.
"Look what I came up with!" said Tasha, taking a bag of flour from the cupboard. "Let's be bakers!"
She poured some flour onto the table, and soon they were both enthusiastically kneading "dough" made of flour and water. Then Tasha accidentally dropped the bag, and a white cloud rose into the air, settling on the floor, furniture, and the children themselves.
Instead of being scared, they burst out laughing and began deliberately tossing flour upward, creating a "snowfall." After half an hour, the kitchen resembled a winter landscape—white flour covered everything around them.
The door creaked—dad peeked into the kitchen.
"What's going on here..." he began, but seeing the scale of the disaster, he quickly fell silent.
Two flour ghosts with shining eyes looked at him. Dad shook his head, but instead of the expected punishment, he simply said:
"Carry on baking," and quickly closed the door.
Tasha and Ando looked at each other, not believing their luck.
"What will happen when mom comes home?" whispered Ando.
"I don't know, let's bake her some pies, she'll be hungry," giggled Tasha, and they got down to cooking.
Five years
In the home pantry, Ando found his old crutches. They were gathering dust in the corner, no longer needed after his leg had healed.
"Ta-a-asha! Look what I found!" he called Tasha when their parents went out.
The crutches had large black rubber tips on the ends.
"Well, what can we do with them?" asked Tasha, examining the find.
Ando turned the crutch in his hands and suddenly ran the rubber tip along the wall. It left a dark mark on the white paint.
The children's eyes lit up simultaneously.
"Let's draw something!" suggested Ando.
They each took a crutch and began "drawing" on the living room walls. Black lines formed into intricate patterns, stick figures, sun, clouds, houses. Engrossed in their activity, the children had covered almost all the walls with writing and drawings when they heard a key turning in the lock.
That evening, both of them got into serious trouble. The crutches disappeared from the house forever, and Ando and Tasha spent several days cleaning the walls under their parents' supervision.
Six and a half years
First day of school. Ando walked, holding Tasha's hand tightly. She had turned seven in the summer and already considered herself an experienced schoolgirl, although she was also starting for the first time.
"The main thing is not to be afraid," she instructed her brother. "If anything happens, I'm always nearby."
School seemed huge and intimidating to Ando. Long corridors, many unfamiliar children, strict teachers. But he quickly adapted and within a week received his first failing grade for behavior—he launched a paper airplane right at the back of the teacher's head.
"Ando, how could you?" his mother shook her head disappointedly, examining the note in his diary.
"I just wanted to see how far it would fly," the boy shrugged.
Seven years
Summer vacation was in full swing. The heat was unbearable, and Ando and Tasha invented a new amusement—filling balloons with water and dropping them on passersby from the balcony.
"Look, Tash, there's a bald guy walking!" whispered Ando, creeping up to the railing with a water "bomb" in his hand.
"I'm a bit scared, what if he sees us," Tasha pulled at him, but there were mischievous sparkles in her eyes. "Let's aim for that boy in jeans instead?"
Ringing children's laughter, indignant shouts from below, quick feet carrying them away from retribution—all this filled the hot summer days.
One day, when their parents were at work, the children set up a "water park" at home. They brought buckets of water into the hallway, poured it onto the linoleum, and organized races, running and sliding on their backsides across the wet floor.
"Ha! I slid further than you!" shouted Ando, landing almost at the kitchen door.
"No way, I went further!" objected Tasha, getting ready for another run.
When mom returned home earlier than usual and discovered a hallway full of water, and two wet towels on the couch that the children had hastily used to dry themselves. A storm broke out worse than a summer thunderstorm.
Eight years
On the TV stand in the living room was a dried flower arrangement in a beautiful vase—a birthday gift to mom. One day, left home alone, Ando wondered—what would happen if he held a lighter to the dry flowers?
One click—and flames engulfed the entire bouquet. Ando, panicking, hit the vase, trying to extinguish the fire. The vase fell onto the carpet, and he stomped on the burning flowers, but black marks remained on the carpet.
"Darn, I'm toast. Need to clean this up somehow," thought Ando and went to get the vacuum cleaner. He had almost finished cleaning when he noticed smoke coming from the vacuum—smoldering embers had gotten inside and ignited dust clumps in the container.
When his parents returned home, they were greeted with an amazing sight: the smell of burning throughout the apartment, a broken vase, a carpet blackened by soot, a smoking vacuum cleaner, and a guiltily smiling Ando.
"I just wanted to see what would happen if I lit the dry flowers a little," he honestly mumbled.
That evening, the "experimenter" received a serious talk about fire safety and a long house arrest.
Nine years
Not far from home stood an abandoned two-story building. Children from the surrounding houses considered it their territory for games, despite parental prohibitions.
"Guys, let's climb onto the roof!" Ando suggested to his friends, bringing an old tape player from home. "We can play hide and seek and tag up there!"
They climbed up the old exterior fire escape. Ando was scrambling up with the tape player, holding it in one hand. At the second floor level, his friend had already climbed through the window into the building.
"Hand me the player, and climb carefully," he called to Ando.
Without thinking, Ando held out the tape player with both hands.
"Here, take it!"
And at that moment, he realized his mistake—letting go of the ladder, he lost his balance and fell down, firmly clutching the tape player in front of him.
A crash, a small cloud of dust—and Ando was lying on the ground with the perfectly intact tape player on top of him like a shield. By some miracle, the boy escaped with only bruises and scratches.
"You flew so cool! How did you not break anything!" his friends laughed later, remembering the incident.
Ando didn't tell his friends, but when he was handing the tape player to his friend, he noticed a strange glow behind him. Later, when he finally succeeded in climbing up, the room looked normal.
Ten years
"Guys, let's be careful, there's an open manhole around here," Ando warned his friends as they walked along a narrow street after sunset.
And as if jinxed—a second later with a loud "Ah, geez!" he disappeared from sight, falling into that very manhole he had warned about. Fortunately, the hole wasn't deep, and Ando got stuck at waist level, waving his arms and demanding help.
"Ando, you're like a magnet for trouble!" his friends laughed as they pulled him out.
And indeed, something was always happening to him.
Eleven years
School was difficult for Ando. He sat at the back desk, was often distracted, and his best grades were C's—except of course for physical education and computer science, where he was one of the best.
In English language class, Ando was drawing with a pen on the desk, completely immersed in the creative process. He didn't notice the teacher approach and stand beside him.
"Ando, why are you defacing the desk? Are you an idiot?" she asked sharply.
The boy flinched but answered without thinking:
"You're the idiot yourself!"
Dead silence fell. The entire class froze. The teacher's face turned crimson.
After this incident, Ando was transferred to a class for underachieving children who attended school in the afternoon shift. Now he no longer studied with Tasha, but he wasn't particularly upset about it.
"At least I don't have to get up early," he joked when his parents scolded him for what had happened.
Thirteen years
The situation at school wasn't improving. Ando skipped classes, made friends with troublemakers like himself, and even Tasha could no longer influence her brother.
One evening, his father called Ando to his room for a serious conversation.
"Your mother and I have discussed this at length and decided that you need discipline," he said wearily. "Starting Monday, you're going to military school."
Ando wanted to object, but seeing the determined expression on his father's face, he realized that arguing was pointless.
The military school greeted him with early wake-ups, strict routines, and unappetizing food. But even there, Ando quickly made friends and somewhat adapted. However, it was clearly not for him.
After a week, there was a ceremonial formation. The general in charge of the school was inspecting the line of new recruits, delivering an inspiring speech about discipline and honor.
"Well, rookies, now a question: are there any among you who do not wish to study at our fine institution?" he unexpectedly asked, hoarsely. "Two steps forward."
Complete silence hung in the air. Ando looked around, smirked, and suddenly stepped forward.
"I do!" he said loudly.
Everyone was surprised, the general probably most of all. But rules were rules—they didn't keep those who didn't want to stay. Ando was given money for a return ticket and sent home.
His father was stunned to see his son on the doorstep after just one week.
"Hi, Dad, I'm home," Ando said curtly.
"How did you... Why..." he couldn't find words from anger and disappointment.
"They let me go," Ando shrugged. "The general asked who doesn't want to study to step out of formation, so I stepped out."
His father sank heavily into an armchair, covered his face with his hands to muffle his swearing, then slowly turned to the window and said:
"Pack your things," he pronounced in an icy tone. "Tomorrow morning you're going to your aunt's in the village. I can't take this anymore."
Ando wanted to object, but the words stuck in his throat. He realized that this time he had gone too far. A village in the middle of nowhere, without friends, without Tasha—it sounded like real punishment. But there was no choice.
The next morning, with a backpack over his shoulders, Ando silently got into the car. Ahead of him waited a new life—in a small village lost among the forests. There was no easy escape from there.