The boarding school always smelled the same.

  A mix of boiled cabbage, cleaning detergent, and old wood clung to clothes so stubbornly that the scent followed you long after you left the gates. Kristina wrinkled her nose every morning, but today the smell irritated her more than usual.

  She sat at a table in the common room, turning her planner between her fingers. The cover was slightly creased, and the corner of the open page was folded as a bookmark.

  She knew Marina would come. It was hard to explain, but when her favorite “friend” appeared in the doorway with two girls behind her, Kristina even felt a strange kind of relief. At least the waiting was over. Marina was already here.

  Kristina met her gaze. That sly smile made her want to choke. In front of adults, Marina was a delicate angel. But as soon as the teenagers were alone, something mean and sharp woke inside her.

  “Well?” Marina said, and Kristina felt everything in her tighten. Her voice was sweet, almost cheerful. “Changed your mind?”

  Kristina slowly looked her over. This time, she hoped she could hold her ground, though she never had before.

  Marina stood with her arms crossed, neat as always, her hair perfectly braided and her uniform spotless. Beside her stood two silent but attentive friends.

  “I said no,” Kristina replied quietly.

  “Really?” Marina’s smile widened. “I only asked for a small favor.”

  Kristina clenched her fingers beneath the table.

  Yesterday, Marina had wanted her to take over cleaning duty again. Not just that – she also wanted Kristina to handle the evening room inspections, work that would put her directly under the supervisor’s scrutiny.

  “I can’t,” Kristina had said then. “I can’t do this every day.”

  “And?” Marina had leaned closer. “You know I don’t like being told no.”

  “That’s not my problem.” Kristina felt her heart begin to race.

  “No,” Marina’s smile thinned. “It is your problem.”

  She snatched the planner from under Kristina’s arm before the girl could react.

  The planner contained every child’s schedule – where they were supposed to be, what they were responsible for that day. The supervisor checked it every single day.

  Marina slowly began flipping through the pages.

  “See?” Marina said, as if explaining something to a child. “Here – you’re supposed to clean. That was yesterday. Here – today, instead of me. And here – tomorrow. And here too.”

  Kristina felt the cold settle inside her.

  “Don’t,” she whispered, her body tensing.

  “And what will you do?” Marina tilted her head mockingly. “Complain to the supervisor? Or maybe hit me?”

  Kristina shot to her feet. The chair scraped loudly across the floor. Her hand jerked forward – instinctive, sharp.

  For a second, she thought she might actually strike.

  Then she saw Marina’s friends. Their expressions. Their readiness.

  And she remembered how it always went. First, light shoves. Then fists. Then, “We were just standing there.”

  Her hand stopped.

  Marina laughed. Quiet and ugly.

  “I knew it,” she said. “You can’t. Weak.”

  She tore a page from the planner.

  The sound was dry, louder than it should have been.

  Kristina flinched. If the supervisor found out – and she would – Kristina would pay for it. Badly.

  “I’ll say you did it yourself,” Marina went on lightly. “Because you didn’t want to follow the schedule.”

  She leaned closer, close enough for Kristina to catch the sweet peach scent of her shampoo.

  “Then we’ll see,” Marina whispered, “how they educate you. Maybe they’ll put you on yard duty all weekend again. Or maybe…” She gave a thoughtful shrug. “They’ll come up with something more interesting.”

  Kristina felt her throat go hollow.

  She knew Marina was not bluffing. Marina was good at arranging things like that.

  Stolen story; please report.

  “You know what?” Marina smiled again. “Think about it. You’ve got a minute.”

  Kristina did not answer. The page was already torn out. It could not get worse.

  She turned and walked away – first at a steady pace, then faster.

  “Hey, where are you going?” came the shout behind her. “We’re about to flush your planner down the toilet!”

  But Kristina did not care. She broke into a run.

  The corridor swallowed the sound of her steps. The walls blurred past. Someone shouted her name, but she did not turn.

  She knew only one thing: if the supervisor found out, it would be worse than last time.

  The exit door stood slightly open. Cold air struck her face, carrying the scent of damp earth. Kristina ran outside without stopping and only slowed once she passed the gates.

  The forest rose nearby – dark, quiet, unfamiliar.

  Safer than what she had left behind.

  She did not plan to run far.

  She just needed to survive the evening.

  Max sensed something was wrong even before he heard the details. It became obvious the moment Ruslan burst into the room as if someone were chasing him.

  “Mffx!” Ruslan shouted, holding a pastry in one hand and trying not to drop it. “Tmf tfkf – ”

  Max pushed back from the desk and turned slowly.

  “Ruslan,” he said evenly. “Breathe. Or eat. One of the two.”

  “I fm mf!” Ruslan protested, but the words dissolved into a hopeless mess.

  Crumbs scattered across the floor. The pastry steamed, its strong cabbage smell overpowering everything else in the room. Ruslan waved his free hand wildly, trying to explain something very important, but only made it worse.

  Max rubbed his temple.

  “Stop biting the pastry!” he snapped. “Explain what happened!”

  Ruslan froze, visibly offended.

  Slowly, with clear internal struggle, he set the pastry down on the edge of the table, as if parting with it forever.

  “Fine,” Ruslan muttered. “But if it gets cold, that’s on you.”

  Max waited without speaking.

  “Kristina…” Ruslan swallowed. “She ran off. Again.”

  Max tensed. Yes, their sister ran away often, and every time they found her.

  They called Kristina their sister not because it was technically true.

  And not because someone had once told them she was.

  They did not share blood. There were no photos of them together in strollers. No stories that began with “when you were little.” Each of them had a past they preferred not to talk about.

  But there was an after.

  And that after, they had lived together.

  No one gives you a family in a boarding school. No one promises it or explains it. There are schedules, rules, and long nights when the world feels empty. Children either learn to survive alone or they find someone who holds on just as tightly.

  Max remembered the first time he shared his bread with Ruslan because Ruslan had it worse that day. Ruslan remembered covering for Max when he lost his temper. Kristina remembered both of them sitting beside her while she cried, asking no questions.

  Since then, it had simply remained that way.

  They knew each other’s weaknesses better than their own. They knew when to stay silent, when to joke, when to stand beside each other even if they were afraid.

  Family is not who gave birth to you.

  Family is who did not leave.

  And if the world decided to test one of them again, the other two followed without discussion.

  They did not know how to do otherwise.

  “As usual, she ran into the forest?” Max asked.

  “The forest,” Ruslan sighed. “After Marina started pushing her around. Something about the planner, threats, the supervisor… you know. Standard.”

  “You couldn’t say that right away?” Max asked sharply.

  “I tried!” Ruslan protested. “You saw – I was eating!”

  Max was already pulling his jacket from the hook.

  “How long ago?”

  Ruslan hesitated.

  “Well… I made it from the cafeteria, and I ate half the pastry…”

  Max gave him a look.

  “Ruslan.”

  “Fifteen minutes,” he blurted. “Maybe twenty.”

  “Good,” Max said. “We might catch her before the birch grove.”

  It was already getting dark outside. He zipped up his jacket while checking his pockets – phone, keys, flashlight. His mind had already shifted into its usual mode: cold, precise, stripped of emotion.

  “She won’t go far,” he continued. “She always thinks she knows the way. And she always gets lost.”

  “It’s Kristina,” Ruslan sighed, reaching for the pastry again.

  “Not now,” Max said sharply.

  They stepped into the corridor. The air was warm and thick with noise and the smell of dinner. Someone laughed. Someone argued. A normal evening.

  Too normal.

  “If the supervisor finds out…” Ruslan began.

  “She won’t,” Max cut in. “Not if we reach her before it’s fully dark.”

  They turned toward the service exit – the one rarely used. The door creaked, but not loudly. Outside, dusk had already settled. The air was colder, carrying the scent of damp soil and pine.

  “Over the fence,” Max said.

  Ruslan grimaced. “Again?”

  “You know a better way?”

  They had climbed it a hundred times, and every time Ruslan asked the same question.

  Ruslan sighed and went first. The fence was old, its boards half-rotted. In one spot, a plank always wobbled slightly.

  Beyond the boarding school fence, the world felt different – quieter, darker.

  The forest began a few dozen meters away. Dark trunks blended into a solid wall. Somewhere in the distance, a branch snapped.

  “She’s afraid of the dark,” Ruslan muttered. “Why does she keep coming here?”

  “Because there are no people here,” Max replied. “And no supervisor.”

  He paused, studying the narrow path ahead.

  “We go to the lake.”

  Ruslan raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

  “Nine times out of ten, that’s where we find her.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  They moved forward.

  Max walked faster, choosing familiar turns without hesitation. Ruslan lagged a little behind, grumbling and trying not to step into puddles.

  Ahead, the lake darkened between the trees.

  Neither of them knew that this time, they would find more than Kristina.