Chapter 10 — The Long Road to Germany

2014 — 4th Grade

For the first time in what felt like forever, things had… settled.

The final apartment of the year sat on a quiet street, filled with kids who practically lived outside, racing bikes, kicking soccer balls, and shouting to each other until the streetlights flickered on. Ivan had barely stepped out before he found himself dragged into the chaos.

And this time, he thought, glancing at his younger brother, I'm not leaving him behind.

Every afternoon, Ivan and his brother joined the neighborhood kids, darting through the streets, climbing trees, and kicking soccer balls until their shoes were worn thin. Unlike the past timeline—where his brother spent years isolated and alone—Ivan made sure they stuck together. His brother was always by his side, running alongside the older kids, laughing louder than Ivan had ever heard him.

This year's… kind of fun, Ivan admitted one evening as they sat on the curb, sweaty and breathless from hours of running around. Almost feels normal.

But even with the fun, Ivan's mind was always running ahead—strategizing, planning. There was still more to fix.

A few months into the school year, Ivan sat in class, tapping his pencil against his desk, lost in thought.

It's time.

He let his grades slip—on purpose. Wrong answers on tests, skipped homework, half-hearted essays. Teachers started noticing. Warnings came in, phone calls home, but Ivan didn't care.

This is all part of the plan.

His goal? To get himself placed into an after-school organization designed to help struggling kids—because that was where he'd meet the other Ivan. In his past life, the two had been close friends. Wild, reckless, but loyal to a fault. A kid who, despite growing up in a bad environment, had been one of the few people Ivan could count on.

When they finally crossed paths, it was like watching history repeat itself.

"Name's Ivan," the other boy said, flashing a crooked grin. He had the swagger of a kid who didn't care about rules, his scraped knees and torn jacket telling their own story.

"I'm Ivan too," he replied.

The other Ivan snorted. "Well, that's gonna get confusing."

Right on cue, Ivan thought.

The friendship kicked off just like before—fast, reckless, easy. But the other Ivan was still the same troublemaker, deep into the local "ultras" scene, living the kind of life that thrived on chaos. And Ivan? He fit right in.

That was the plan.

The next few years blurred together in a haze of calculated chaos.

Ivan played his role perfectly—letting his grades slide deeper, skipping classes, starting small fights, causing just enough trouble to stay under the radar while keeping his long-term goal intact.

"Why are you doing this?" his younger brother asked once, confused by the sudden shift.

Ivan smiled faintly. "It's all planned. Don't worry. Just stick to your studies. You're still on track."

And he was right. By now, his brother could breeze through everything up to 7th grade without breaking a sweat. German and English came naturally to him now—he was fluent in both—and Ivan kept him focused while he handled the bigger picture.

But home? Home was falling apart.

Their mother spiraled fast. The boyfriends cycled in and out—six in total—each worse than the last. She was pregnant again now, belly swollen as she chain-smoked on the balcony, barely glancing at Ivan or his brothers.

The abuse ramped up. Ivan bore the brunt of it—silent, enduring, waiting. Every slap, every insult, every drunken rage—he took it all, knowing the endgame was close.

At night, while their mother drank herself into oblivion, Ivan would make dinner for his brothers, clean up the mess, help his younger brother with his studies, and rock the baby to sleep when their mother couldn't—or wouldn't—be bothered.

Endure it, he told himself over and over. It's almost over.

By 7th grade, everything snapped.

Child Protective Services got involved.

Ivan sat on the edge of the couch as a social worker talked quietly to his mother, who waved a cigarette around angrily, half-listening.

"You have two options," the woman said firmly. "Foster care… or send them to their grandmother in Germany."

Ivan barely had time to panic before his mother scoffed. "Send them to Germany, then. Whatever."

Grandma would never let foster care happen, Ivan thought, relief washing over him.

And sure enough, the plan was set. Ivan and his younger brother—just the two of them—would go to Germany, to their grandmother. The baby? He was too young, still tethered to their mother. But Ivan would come back for him one day. He'd make sure of it.

Before leaving, Ivan sat with his younger brother in their now half-empty apartment.

"You've got everything you need," he told him. "You can ace school until 9th grade without even trying. You know German and English. You're set."

His brother's eyes welled up a bit. "We're really going?"

Ivan smiled. "Yeah. And this time? We're gonna be fine."

The day they left was quiet. No big scene, no tears—just a packed car, their grandmother in the driver's seat, and miles of road ahead.

Ivan sat in the backseat next to his brother, watching the skyline fade behind them.

New country. New life. New chance.

He leaned his head against the window, the weight of years of planning, pain, and patience lifting—if only a little.

Germany's next. And this time, I'm playing to win.