Chapter 8 — “First School Days”

Chapter 8 — "First School Days" (2014)

The late summer sun filtered through the thin curtains of Adrian's bedroom, waking him before his parents could. For once, he didn't mind being up early.

Today was the day.

First day of kindergarten.

And on his feet, laced as tightly as his little fingers could manage, were his new shoes. The soles squeaked faintly on the old wooden floorboards, and Adrian took a few careful steps, testing them again. They still made him feel fast. Balanced. Like a real player.

"Ready?" Marek asked from the doorway, arms crossed, smiling with pride. His shirt was wrinkled from work, but his eyes were sharp with approval.

Adrian nodded hard, his stomach tying itself in nervous knots that he didn't fully understand. He was ready—and not ready at all.

Downstairs, Elżbieta handed him a neatly packed cloth bag with his lunch, pressed a quick kiss to his forehead, and ruffled his hair. "Be brave, my lion."

Outside, the Warsaw morning was already alive with clattering tramcars, bicycle bells, and the hum of city life.

Marek walked Adrian to the school gates. Other children clustered around, holding tightly to parents' hands, some crying, some wild with excitement.

Adrian just stood still, gripping his bag, the shoelaces of his right shoe already loosening but ignored for now.

The playground behind the schoolyard fence looked enormous. Slides. Swings. A wide stretch of worn grass with patches of dirt where kids were already kicking around a battered football.

That's when he saw her.

A girl—short, curly brown hair, bright green sneakers, and a wild grin. She wasn't holding anyone's hand. She wasn't shy. In fact, she was already running barefoot across the field, holding her shoes in one hand and laughing like nothing in the world could stop her.

A plastic football rolled near her feet. With no hesitation, she kicked it back to the group of kids playing. Dead center, perfect aim.

Adrian blinked. She was… fast. Confident. The way she moved reminded him of the players on the baseball games Marek watched. Light, quick on her feet, sharp eyes.

"Go on, Adrian," Marek encouraged softly, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Your new team's in there somewhere."

"Team?" Adrian echoed, confused.

"Friends," Marek translated with a wink. "Same thing."

With that, Marek left him, waving over his shoulder as he headed toward work.

Adrian lingered near the fence for a while, unsure where to stand or how to move. Groups of kids were already forming, yelling, chasing, arguing over rules to games that made no sense to him.

Then—

"Hey!"

The curly-haired girl was suddenly right in front of him, barefoot, hair messy from running, grinning like they were old friends.

"You're new," she declared. "Wanna play?"

Adrian's mouth opened, then closed again. He glanced down at his new shoes, suddenly aware that they looked brand new compared to everyone else's beat-up sneakers and sandals.

"I'm Julia," she said, undeterred. "I'm the fastest. You look fast too. Wanna race?"

Before he could answer, she was already off again, running across the field, barefoot, laughing wildly

Adrian hesitated for only a heartbeat before launching himself after her. The new shoes felt stiff at first, but as he pumped his arms and leaned forward, they gripped the ground, propelling him faster than he'd ever run. Julia glanced back over her shoulder, her curly hair streaming behind her in the wind.

"Come on!" she yelled, her bare feet slapping the grass. She was only a few strides ahead, but Adrian felt a surge of determination burn in his chest. This wasn't about winning or losing—it was about keeping up.

He closed the gap. His lungs burned, but his legs felt strong. For a moment, everything else fell away: the other children, the distant hum of the city, even the newness of school. There was only the race, the wind, and Julia's carefree laughter.

They crossed the faded white line someone had drawn in chalk at the far edge of the playground simultaneously. Julia skidded to a stop, feet slipping in the loose dirt. Adrian stumbled past her, nearly toppling, but managed to catch himself.

Julia collapsed onto the grass, panting, then threw herself back so she was looking at the sky. "You're pretty fast," she said between breaths. "Faster than me."

Adrian sank down beside her, chest heaving. "Barefoot has its advantages," he managed to say, then frowned. "But your hair's all messed up."

She reached up and twisted one of her curls around a finger. "I don't care. I was running."

He laughed, the sound shaky but genuine. He was beginning to feel at ease here—somewhere between the fear of the new building and the comfort of Julia's grin.

"Wanna show me yours?" Julia asked suddenly, shoving a finger toward the fence.

"Huh?"

"Your shoes," she clarified. "You said you got new ones."

Adrian glanced at his feet. "Oh—yeah." He flexed his toes, watching the shoes bend. "My dad said they help me run."

Julia sat up and patted the ground, scooting over to leave room for him. "Let me see."

He lifted one foot and held it out. The shoes were bright white with green accents, small cleats molded into the soles for traction. Julia ran her hand over the laces.

"They're cool," she said. "Like real sneakers."

Adrian felt proud all over again. "My dad saved up for them."

Julia's eyes grew serious for a moment. "Good dad."

He nodded, not really sure what to say. The bell rang, sharp and insistent.

"Let's get inside," Julia said, hopping to her feet. "We don't want to be late."

Hand in hand, the two of them ran back toward the classroom building, weaving around the other kids forming lines at the door. Inside the bright, echoing hallways, teachers greeted them, checking names off lists, directing children to their tables.

Adrian found his seat next to Julia at a small table covered in colorful pencil drawings. His knuckles whitened around the strap of his bag as he sat down.

"Do you like coloring?" Julia whispered, pulling out a red crayon.

He shrugged. "I'm better at running."

She rolled her eyes but smiled. "Well, I'm going to color. Want to color with me?"

Adrian picked up a blue crayon. "Okay."

Their heads bent together over blank sheets of paper. Julia drew a circle for the sun, then long vertical lines for its rays. Adrian carefully traced the outline of two stick figures—one in white shoes, one barefoot—and then a simple diamond shape beneath them, like a baseball field.

Julia peered at his drawing. "Is that us?"

He nodded shyly. "You and me. On the field."

She grinned. "Best team ever."

The morning passed in a haze of new sounds and rules: count to ten before answering, raise your hand to speak, line up quietly for recess. But for Adrian, the day moved at the pace of their shared scribbles and whispered jokes. Every time a child bumped into his table, Julia shot them a forgiving look. Every time a teacher asked him a question, she helped him with a gentle nudge.

At lunchtime, they sat together again, sharing half of Adrian's sandwich—a piece of salami and cheese—and trading bites of apples. Julia's small gestures felt like oases in the vastness of the new school.

When the final bell rang, they spilled out into the afternoon sunshine once more. Adrian's shoelaces were untied, his shirt rumpled, but his eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Tomorrow," Julia declared as they reached the gate, "we're going to race all the way to the end of the block."

Adrian grinned. "You're on."

He watched her go—barefoot, hair bouncing—until she disappeared around the corner. Then he turned to find his parents waiting.

Elżbieta waved and beckoned him over, while Marek gave him a quick hug and ruffled his hair.

"How was it?" Elżbieta asked as they walked home.

"Good," Adrian said, slipping his hand into Julia's for a moment before letting go. "I made a friend."

Marek glanced down at his son's shoes, then back at him. "That's great, buddy."

As they passed the schoolyard one last time, Adrian noticed a tall man standing against the fence, arms crossed, watching. He wore a tracksuit and carried a clipboard clipped with paper. The man's eyes were fixed on Adrian, on the way he moved in his new shoes, the broom-handle bat slung over his shoulder.

For a moment, their eyes met.

Then the man nodded slightly and walked away without a word.

Adrian tugged on his father's sleeve. "Dad, who's that?"

Marek looked but the man was gone, swallowed up by the late afternoon crowd. "Not sure," he said. "Maybe someone from the school."

Adrian shrugged. But something about that nod made his heart beat faster.

Behind him, the sun dipped low, and the city hummed around them. Tomorrow would be another race, another game, another step forward.

And somewhere out there, without Adrian yet knowing it, was the beginning of another important chapter—one with a clipboard, a coach's whistle, and the promise that his world was about to get even bigger.

End of Chapter 8 — "First School Days"