Ninka, are you up to your tricks again? They’ll put you in solitary!” her friend cast a reproachful glance at the girl.
“So what? At least I’ll get to play soccer, and if they lock me up for a week, so be it—better away from those matrons,” Nina shrugged and smiled slyly.
Looking around, she slightly pushed aside a broken board in the fence and, without wasting time, slipped outside. She had long known the boys from the neighboring yards ever since she had joined a fight they had started with children from her orphanage. Although the orphans were in the wrong, Nina still took their side. Eventually, everyone scattered, but she was left alone with the boys and a bloody nose.
“Why didn’t you run away with the others?” one of the boys asked.
“Too much honor,” Nina, wiping blood from her face, dismissed it carelessly.
The boys exchanged looks, clearly surprised by her response.
“And you’re not crying? You like soccer, by chance?” one of them asked.
“Maybe,” she replied. “I’ve never played, so I don’t know.”
“Well, if you want, come to the wasteland in the evening, we’ll teach you,” they offered. “We’re short of players, and you’d definitely fit in.”
That was the beginning of her soccer life.
After just a few practices, she became one of the best on the team. She was always invited to play with the boys, although it often cost her lateness and punishments at the orphanage. From time to time, they locked her in solitary — or, as the children called it, “the hole.”
Especially diligent in monitoring her “behavior” was Nelly Vasilievna—a formidable and spiteful matron, whom the children behind her back called a hag. Everyone wondered how she was even allowed to work with children, as it seemed she hated them more than anything in the world. She only left those who were quiet and submissive alone, but those who dared to object or resist, she openly despised and persecuted.
Nina was a real irritant for her—unruly, bold, and with her own opinion. It drove the matron mad. But Nina, in turn, loved to create unpleasant moments for her.
“Alright, guys… uh… and girl, go!” yelled the eldest boy, and they all dashed toward the new site.
“Hey, where to? The wasteland is on the other side!” she called out.
“We don’t play there anymore,” the boys explained. “They started construction there, but we found a great place nearby.”
Without hesitation, Nina followed them. She knew: if the boys said the place was great, then it must be.
Once, she had a family, but Nina had no memories of her parents. She was taken to the orphanage when she was three years old. Her father left her mother, and she couldn’t bear the betrayal and ended her life by stepping off a balcony. That’s all the caretakers knew. Nina had no other relatives, and her father, having started a new life with another woman, abandoned his daughter.
For a long time, Nina was introverted, not interacting with anyone, as if she lived in her own world. The caretakers even considered sending her to an asylum for children with mental disorders. But one day, she seemed to awaken, gradually starting to interact with others.
The place the boys led her to turned out to be wonderful. A sandy playground surrounded by beautiful new houses. Nina knew that rich people lived in such houses, but it was quiet around—apparently, the houses were not yet occupied.
“Great place,” she said admiringly.
“No kidding! There’s plenty of room to run around!” the boys agreed.
“Aren’t you afraid of trespassing?” she asked, nodding at the high fences around.
“What! The fences here are strong, and we set up the goal so no one hits towards the houses,” they explained to her.
Nina nodded. Everything sounded quite logical.
Valery moved away from the window, through which the noise of children preparing to play soccer was heard. He forcefully closed the window and drew the curtains to drown out their voices. Not because he disliked children—on the contrary, he once adored their cheerful laughter. But it had been three years since any child’s laughter caused him pain. For it was exactly three years ago, by a tragic coincidence, that he lost his wife and son.
For months, Valery searched for a secluded house, away from the hustle and bustle, where he could find peace. And he found this place. But now he was troubled by the thought that peace here might not last long. Fortunately, construction was expected to start in the area in a couple of weeks, and these children would stop playing here.
He sat down in front of the easel. For a year he had been trying to finish a portrait of his son, but he just couldn’t. It seemed that the painting would come to life at any moment, but each time something was off, as if some detail was missing. Valery, once a successful and sought-after artist, was known for his work. He even had his own school for talented children. But after the tragedy, he almost never appeared there—it was too painful to see the kids who could have been taught by his son.
He picked up a brush, when suddenly he was distracted by a loud crash of glass—it had shattered on the terrace. Valery grimaced, but didn’t turn around, focusing on the painting. What happened outside his inner world no longer interested him.
Meanwhile, the boys playing with Nina glanced at each other.
“Wow! What a hit! I wonder if anyone’s home?” one of them asked.
“We should go apologize,” Nina sighed.
“Are you crazy? We should run! They’ll call the police!” exclaimed another, clearly frightened.
But Nina stubbornly shook her head.
“No, that’s not right. We should at least apologize.”
The boys backed away.
“We’re not going, sorry. Our moms will kill us, no joke!”
“Well, don’t go. I broke the glass, so I’ll answer for it,” Nina stubbornly replied.
The gate was unlocked, and she quietly entered the yard. Everything around looked so well-kept and perfect that it even seemed strange to her. It looked tidy, but no one lived here, no one enjoyed this beauty.
Carefully approaching the house, Nina noticed the shattered glass of the veranda. It had almost entirely fallen apart. Sighing, she decided to go in and entered through an unlocked door, holding her breath.
Valery, unaware of her presence, continued working on his painting, absorbed in gloomy thoughts. Only when Nina called out to him did he startle and turn to her.
“Hello,” she said timidly.
“Hello,” he replied, surprised to see the stranger.
“I wanted to apologize. It was me who broke the glass on your terrace… But I don’t have parents, so there’s no one to pay for it,” Nina said with a heavy sigh.
Valery put down the brush and looked at the girl with interest.
“How so? Where do you live if you have no parents? On the street?”
“No, of course not. I live in an orphanage. Sometimes I run away to play soccer. It’s so boring there in the summer!” Nina smiled. “Of course, they scold me later, but only one matron, Nelly Vasilievna. She gets very angry and often puts me in solitary.”
Valery involuntarily smiled. The girl’s adult reasoning, her calmness and straightforwardness touched him.
“But you weren’t alone, were you? Where are the others?”
“They got scared of their moms and ran away. I broke the glass, they had nothing to do with it,” Nina calmly replied.
Valery couldn’t help but smile.
“So, they left you and ran away?” he looked at Nina with interest.
She just shrugged.
“Can I look at the painting?” she suddenly asked, pointing to the easel.
Valery’s heart skipped, but he nodded.
“Of course, take a look,” he said quietly.
Nina approached the canvas, studied it carefully, and then said:
“Such a sad painting, it makes you want to cry.”
Valery looked at her curiously:
“What’s your name?”
“Nina.”
“And tell me, what, in your opinion, is wrong with this painting?”
The girl shrugged:
“Well, everything seems fine, only the painting is sad, and the boy is smiling. It can’t be that a person smiles while everything around is so gloomy.”
Valery unexpectedly sat down on the couch:
“How simple it turned out… And I wouldn’t have guessed it myself.”
He turned to Nina:
“You must be hungry?”
“Of course, I want to eat! Don’t you know that orphans are always hungry?”
Valery smiled:
“No, I didn’t know. I thought you were well-fed. Let’s go to the kitchen, see what we have.”
Nina raised her eyebrows in surprise:
“Ours?”
“Yes, there’s a woman who comes to me, cooks and cleans. I pay her for this.” He waved his hand toward the shattered glass. “Don’t worry, I’ll call the masters tomorrow, they’ll come up with something better. I didn’t like it anyway.”
While Valery set the table, Nina sat on a small couch, watching him. He himself couldn’t understand how it happened that he invited this girl to his home, but something inside him suggested that it was the right decision.
While they ate (or rather, mostly Nina ate), Valery asked her about life in the orphanage. What he heard shook him to the core. He had long donated money to the orphanage, but he wasn’t sure that Nina lived in the one he supported. He needed to clarify with a friend who handled his affairs.
After dinner, Nina stood up:
“Thanks for the food, but I have to go. The hag is on duty today, I’ve definitely earned a week in solitary.”
Valery immediately got up:
“Let me walk you, so there are no problems.”
“No, that would only make it worse. She doesn’t like it when someone stands up for us.”
“But if you want, you can always come to me. I’ll tell Olga Sergeevna that you can come, even if I’m not home.” He paused for a moment and added: “That boy in the painting—it’s my son. He’s no longer with us, and I’m very lonely.”
Nina nodded:
“I figured it was your son. He looks a lot like you. Alright, I’ll definitely come by when I can.”
As the girl left, Valery walked around the house for a long time, trying to organize his thoughts. Then he approached the painting, looked at the dark colors, and started changing them to brighter, more cheerful ones.
The next day, when the housekeeper, Olga Sergeevna, arrived, she asked in surprise:
“Did you not sleep all night?”
Valery smiled at her and showed her the painting:
“Look, Olga Sergeevna. I think I finally managed to finish it.”
He told her about Nina:
“Imagine, she’s so little, but she wasn’t afraid to enter the house and apologize for the glass. And then she immediately said what was wrong with the painting. I must definitely visit her in the orphanage… No, it would be better to call my manager and find out everything.”
Valery didn’t delay this matter. Connecting with his friend, he learned that the orphanage he had been donating to was indeed the place where Nina lived. What he heard shocked him—the children there were treated worse than he could have imagined.
The next day, Valery was already in the director’s office. The director, noticeably nervous, tried to understand the reason for the unexpected visit from the sponsor, and without warning.
“Is there a girl named Nina, about seven or eight years old?” he asked the director.
The director looked at him frightened:
“Why do you need her?”
Valery sternly replied:
“I have some plans regarding her. Can we meet her?”
“Uh… she’s sick.”
Valery tapped his fingers nervously on the desk.
“She’s in solitary, right?” The director jumped from his seat, then sat down again, sighing heavily:
“Where did you get such information?”
“Let’s not put on a show. You’ll take me to Nina, and I won’t make noise, check financial reports, or investigate further.”
A few minutes later, Valery was led to a small, nearly empty room. A narrow window with bars cast a dim light on the bed, where a girl lay. Nina had a bruise on her face, and her eyebrow was split. Valery looked at her, then turned to the director with cold anger.
While the investigations were underway, Nina lived with Valery. He told no one how much effort and money it took to bring the matter to light. The caretakers and director were prosecuted, but Valery knew that sooner or later, Nina could return to the same hell.
Olga Sergeevna, the housekeeper, anxiously watched Valery, and one day at breakfast she asked:
“And what now? Will you really send her back?”
“What can I do?” he asked desperately.
“What do you mean, what? Adopt her. Make sure she has a family, that she’s happy. You can do that.”
Valery was struck by her words. He slowly raised his eyes to Olga and whispered:
“What a fool I’ve been!”
Nina never returned to the orphanage. After some time, she asked Valery if she could call him dad.
The portrait of Valery’s son hung in the living room. The boy in it was smiling.