Chapter 7 — Shifting Pieces

2012 — 2nd Grade

The soft scratch of pencils filled the classroom as Ivan sat quietly at his desk, his neat handwriting filling the lined paper. Another perfect score. Another hollow victory.

I passed first grade with perfect grades… he thought, his pen pausing mid-sentence. Not like my mother cared. She didn't even look at my report card, just snatched it out of my hands and used it as bait for Grandma. More grades, more guilt, more money.

Ivan's jaw tightened. He could picture it clearly—his mother showing off his achievements, spinning her sob stories to his grandmother, fishing for cash under the guise of being a proud parent. But that wasn't what twisted his stomach into knots.

Tomorrow's the day Grandma loses it all.

The thought echoed in his mind like a warning bell. He knew exactly how it would go down—his mother would come, debt-ridden and desperate, and his grandmother, ever the bleeding heart, would sell her beloved restaurant just to bail her out. A lifetime of hard work gone overnight.

And in a week, Ivan sighed, she'll leave her boyfriend and be on her own again. At least for a little while.

His grandmother wasn't doomed—he knew that. She was resilient. Even after losing everything, she'd pick herself up, find a new job at a restaurant, and manage to live decently. But it was still her bad year—the turning point when everything started sliding downhill.

She'll move to Germany by the end of the year, he thought. New boyfriend, new city, but her life will end up worse there. Still… that's fixable.

He closed his notebook and stared out the window. Trees swayed gently under the spring breeze, students laughing in the courtyard below, blissfully unaware of the weight some kids carried. Ivan wasn't just thinking about homework or playground games—he was strategizing.

This year… I should make my move. I can't let it all happen exactly like before.

But timing was everything. One false step, and it could all crumble.

2013 — 3rd Grade

The cold of winter still hung in the air as Ivan walked his younger brother home from kindergarten. The streets were quiet, dusted with the remnants of snow, and Ivan kept a firm grip on his brother's hand, guiding him carefully over icy patches.

Alright, he thought, everything went like it was supposed to.

His grandmother had moved to Germany at the end of last year, exactly on schedule. His mother's gambling hadn't let up—if anything, it had gotten worse. And now, alcohol had entered the picture.

He could see it in the way she stumbled home more often than not, slurring her words, a cigarette hanging from her fingertips. Her once-sharp tongue had grown sharper, fueled by bitterness and cheap vodka.

Now I have to take care of my brother more than ever, Ivan mused, glancing down at the small boy walking beside him. His brother smiled up at him, clueless about the storm constantly brewing around them. Ivan smiled back, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

They arrived at their apartment, and as he unlocked the door, Ivan's thoughts drifted forward in time.

This is the year I get another brother.

It was strange—knowing what was coming, waiting for it like an event already etched into stone. His mother's addiction would spiral deeper, and somewhere along the way, another life would enter this chaotic mess.

He felt a strange twist of emotions—frustration, hope, and responsibility all tangled together. In his past life, he had been powerless, just another kid swept along by his family's dysfunction. But now? Now, he knew the future.

I just need the right moment to change it.

He pulled his brother inside and shut the door behind them. Their mother wasn't home—probably at the bar again—but Ivan didn't mind. It was quieter this way.

He sat at the table, opening his worn notebook again, filled with scribbled plans and timelines.

Not yet, he thought. But soon.

And with that, he picked up his pencil and got back to work—because for Ivan, school wasn't about grades anymore. It was about survival. About strategy. And eventually, about winning.

No matter how long it took.