Fitting In

I remember when Sergei told me about becoming “King” in the children’s home at Barysevo.  He explained it briefly to me, intentionally brushing over the details.  He said the children started their own society within the orphanage and there were three different categories:  the slaves, the lieutenants, and the king.  He told me he eventually fought his way to the top to become king.  That was all he told me...end of story.  He did not go into specifics about his former life in the Soviet Union because he never wanted to frighten me.  He made the right decision.  Once again, I am reminded of how different our lives were.

From Sergei’s book:

I remained a slave for only a short time.  When I became a little bigger and a little stronger, I challenged a lieutenant and beat him up and took his place....  I was determined to become the strongest boy in the home, and eventually to become king.  That was my goal, and no one...was going to stop me from reaching it!

There were four other boys who wanted to be king.  One by one, I took them on and beat every one of them.  Only one gave me a hard time, but I was able to finish him by smashing his face in.

Soon it was very clear who was the new king.  We had fought by the rules of our society, and I had won.  If at any time some lieutenant thought he could whip me, he had the right to try.  But for now I had won, and I was crowned the new king at Barysevo.  For a fourteen-year-old, that was not bad!

-Sergei Kourdakov, The Persecutor, Chapter 7, pgs. 69-70

* * *

When I was fourteen my family moved to the Washington DC area.  My father was a pilot in the U.S.A.F. and his new duty assignment placed him at the Pentagon.  I was upset about the move because I left all of my friends behind in Colorado, and I missed them.  It wasn’t long before I realized that living on the East coast, in a big suburb, was very different from the laid-back ways and friendliness of rural areas in the mid-west.

I soon discovered the meaning of the word clique at my new school.  It referred to the group or circle of friends you hung out with.  There were many levels of cliques.  One of the friendlier, popular boys in the ninth grade was my neighbor, Mark.  Sensing my “new school” nervousness, he explained the ins and outs of the various cliques.  If I wanted to fit in with the popular group, all I had to do, apparently, was buy fashionable East-coast-style clothes so I didn’t look out of place.

Wanting to fit in is everyone’s wish, no matter your age or your circumstances.  Sergei did what he felt he had to do in order to fit into the society of his children’s home.

 

If only the answer to fitting in was as simple as buying a new outfit.