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EXACTLY 25 KILOS

Misha and I were going to a children's party at the community center around the corner. Mommy said we were to behave ourselves and gave each of us fifteen kopecks. When we got there there was a great crush in the cloakroom. We stood at the end of a line that was hardly moving. Suddenly we heard music. It was coming from upstairs. We were in a terrible rush to get our coats checked. A lot of the other kids were just as nervous when the music started, and some of the littlest ones began to cry. They were afraid they'd miss all the fun.

We finally ran up the steps, two at a time. It was really beautiful there. There were paper streamers strung under the ceiling from wall to wall, and paper festoons. There were colored lanterns. A band was playing and actors in costume, with one blowing a bugle and another playing a drum, were right in with the crowd. Someone was dressed as a jester. There were crooked mirrors, and the door at the back of the hall had a sign on it that said:

"Amusements".

"What's that?" I wondered.

"It's a kind of fun room," Misha said.

He was right. There was an apple hanging on a string and you had to keep your hands in back of you and try to bite it, but each time your mouth touched it it would spin away, so that you never could, which wasn't fair at all. I steadied it with my hand twice and took two bites out of it, but everybody laughed and wouldn't let me play any more. Then there was a bow and rubber-tipped arrows. Anyone who hit the bull's eye won a prize.

Misha tried first. He kept aiming and aiming, and when he finally let go of the bowstring he missed the target altogether.

"Huh! Some shot!" I said.

"That's because it's my first arrow. If they'd give me five I could practice, but they only gave me one. You can't hit it that way."

"Come on, it's my turn! Watch me hit the bull's eye."

The man who was in charge of the bows and arrows said, "All right, let's see what a good shot you are." He went to fix the target, because it was hanging crookedly. I was all set to shoot my arrow and was only waiting for him to move. The bowstring was drawn very taut. I kept saying to myself, "I'm going to hit the bull's eye."

Then, all of a sudden, the arrow slipped out of my hand. Swish! It hit the man smack in the rear end.

He spun around and snapped, "Put down the bow! You're not shooting any more."

"It was an accident!" I said, but left anyway.

This wasn't our lucky day. Then we saw the beam scale and there was a line of kids. They were moving up quickly, and everyone was shouting and laughing. A clown was in charge of things.

"What's all this about?" I asked.

"Get in line to be weighed. If you weigh exactly 25 kilos you'll win a year's subscription to Murzilka."

"Come on, let's get in line," I said to Misha, but he'd disappeared. I decided to get in line anyway. What if I weighed exactly 25 kilos? That would really be a stroke of luck!

The line kept moving up, and the clown kept sliding the scale weights back and forth, talking all the time.

"You've an extra kilo. Don't eat so much candy!" Click! went the weights. "And you, my dear young man, aren't a very good eater. You only weigh 19 kilos. Come back next year." Click! Click!

The line kept moving up, but nobody, not one single kid, weighed exactly 25 kilos. Finally, it was my turn. I got on the scale. The weights went click!, click! and the clown said,

"Oho! D'you know the game called 'Hot and Cold'?"

"Sure. Everybody does."

"You're hot. Very hot. You weigh 24 1/2 kilos. You only need half a kilo more to win. What a shame. Next, please!"

Only half a kilo! It was practically the same as weighing 25. The party was ruined as far as I was concerned. What an all around unlucky day! Just then Misha showed up.

"Where've you been, Your Highness?"

"Drinking soda."

"That's fine. Here I am, killing myself, trying to get us a subscription for Murzilka, while you're off having a good time." And I told him about what had just happened.

"I'm going to try now," Misha said.

When he stood up on the scale the clown slid the weights, smiled and said, "A little over the edge! It's 25 1/2 kilos. You'll have to lose half a kilo. Next, please!"

Misha got down and said to me, "I shouldn't have had that soda."

"What's it got to do with it?"

"I had a whole bottle. Understand?"

"No."

"Don't you know there's half a liter of soda in a bottle?" "Sure. So what?"

"So nothing. A half-liter of soda weighs half a kilo. If I hadn't had the soda, I'd've weighed exactly 25 kilos!"

"You would?"

"Yes, I would!"

I had a great idea. "You know what? We've won the subscription!"

"How come?"

"Now I'll have a bottle of soda, because I weigh 24 1/2 kilos!"

"Come on! Run!" Misha led the way to the snack bar.

We bought a bottle of soda.

"Is there always exactly half a liter in every bottle?" Misha asked as the woman opened it.

"Of course," she replied.

I carried the bottle over to a table, sat down and began drinking. Misha stood over me, watching. The soda was very cold, but I gulped down a glassful anyway. Misha refilled my glass. That still left quite a bit in the bottle. I knew I didn't want any more.

"Come on! What're you waiting for?"

"It's ice-cold. I don't want to get a sore throat."

"Don't think about it and you won't. What's the matter? Are you chicken?"

"You are," I said and began sipping the second glass. I was having a hard time getting it down. After I had about half of it I realized I couldn't swallow another sip. "That's all, Misha. No more'll go in."

"Sure, it will. You just think it won't. Go on. Keep drinking." I tried and nearly gagged.

"What're you sprawled all over the table for? Stand up and more'll fit in!"

I stood up. He was right. I somehow managed to pour the rest of

the glass down my throat, but the minute I did Misha splashed whatever was left in the bottle into my empty glass. It was more than half full again.

"I'll burst."

"How come I didn't? I thought I would, too. Come on, you've got to do it."

"If. I burst. You'll. Be. Responsible. Misha."

"All right. Go on and drink it."

I started sipping again and finally drank it all. It was really a miracle. But I couldn't talk, because the soda filled all of my insides and all of my throat, with some of it in my mouth and some trickling out of my nose.

I made it back to the scale. The clown didn't recognize me. The weights went click!, click! and he suddenly shouted loud enough for everyone to hear,

"Hurry, everybody! Here he is! He weighs exactly 25 kilos! This boy has just won a year's subscription to Murzilka! I'll fill in the subscription blank right now. Let's give him a hand!"

He raised my left hand, everyone clapped and he imitated a flourish. He took out his pen and said, "Now, then. What's your name? First and last names, please."

But I said nothing. I was so full of soda I couldn't speak. So Misha said, "His name's Dennis. And his last name's Korablyov. Write it down. I know him."

The clown handed me the filled-in blank and said, "You might at least say 'thank you'."

I bobbed my head.

"He's saying 'thank you'. I know him," Misha said.

"What a boy!" the clown exclaimed. "He won a fine subscription and he won't even say a word. You'd think he had a mouth full of water or something!"

"Don't pay any attention to him. He's just shy. I know him,"

Misha said, grabbed my hand and dragged me downstairs.

Once out in the street I caught my breath at last. "You know, Misha, I feel funny about taking this sub. After all, I only weigh 24 1/2 kilos."

"Then give it to me, because I weigh exactly 25. If I hadn't've had a bottle of soda, I'd've won it. You can give it to me."

"You think I choked on that bottle of soda for nothing? I know. It'll be for both of us. Half and half."

"Right!"


 
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