Forbidden Rock and Roll (A Stain On The Red Banner Book 1)

Book summary

Set in a repressive Soviet town, "Forbidden Rock and Roll" by Polina Krymskaya is a poignant coming-of-age tale that delves into themes of love, friendship, and self-discovery. Ninth-grader Seva finds solace in his friendship with Zhenya, but their bond becomes strained as Seva grapples with hidden emotions and societal norms. As they navigate their complex desires, an unexpected event forces Seva to retreat, leaving their relationship uncertain. Seva rebuilds his life with a new romance, but a scandal threatens to expose their true feelings, leading to potentially tragic consequences. This heartfelt story explores the resilience of youth and the transformative power of acceptance.

Excerpt from Forbidden Rock and Roll

The massive wooden door slowly cracked opened. The snub-nosed, dark-haired boy of about fifteen timidly looked through the gap.

“Did you call for me, Rosalia Andrianovna?”

“I did, Temkin, I did!” a loud female voice from the other end of the office responded with displeasure. “Come in! Don’t pretend it’s your first time.”

From the restlessly darting eyes of the unfortunate Temkin, he was clearly, desperately looking for an opportunity not to cross the threshold, so as not to find himself in this terrible room. But he had no choice. With a resigned sigh, the dark-haired boy went into the office and closed the door behind him.

“Tell me about what happened, Seva.” A woman sitting at a round table made of dark wood took off her glasses and looked up at him with tired eyes.

He sighed heavily again and looked around the office wistfully. Indeed, it wasn’t the first time he was here. Last year, he went here as if going home, sometimes alone, sometimes with his father. The first time was better, of course. The arms and legs were intact, he had pocket money, and no one threatened to drive him out of the house. The fact that Andrianovna’s shouting was ringing in his ears for another week was nothing. He could survive it; there had been worse.

Nothing had changed in the office since the last academic year. The same sad, green walls, a battered carpet, massive furniture made of dark wood. Maybe the flowers were different, but that was just a little thing. Andrianovna also changed her hairstyle—clearly burned with peroxide. Poisonous white hair lay on her shoulders in some odd style.

“She looks like a poodle,” Seva thought, but he immediately pushed this thought away. First, to laugh in his position meant condemning himself to death. Second, even if he left the office alive, it would still be impossible to spread Andrianovna’s new nickname around the school—it would not take root. With eternally pursed lips, a tenacious hawk’s gaze from which all the schoolchildren huddled in hallway corners, and a broad-shouldered posture towering over even tenth graders, she involuntarily and simultaneously inspired awe and respect, even among slobs like Seva. A poodle? No way—a German Shepherd.

“Seva, please don’t waste my time,” the head teacher’s voice threatened. “Why did you break the window in our art teacher’s apartment?”

Seva lowered his eyes and began to carefully examine the toes of his shoes. They were already battered. If he didn’t change them soon, they would be riddled with holes but, it wasn’t surprising. He had been wearing them for more than a year; it was a miracle they lasted this long. They had bought them, even though they knew he was growing, but now they pressed so hard against his toes that it hurt to walk.

“Seva!” Rosalia Andrianovna was becoming really angry.

No, Seva was not an idiot. He knew perfectly well that sooner or later he would have to answer the head teacher, but he tried to delay answering until the last moment. What should he say? That he and his friends were aiming to hit the window but missed? And how would he explain why he threw stones at the art teacher’s apartment? Well, he could say that they wanted to call Lenya, the art teacher’s son, into the yard. But why? So that he would give them the math homework done for them in exchange for keeping his big secret? It was unlikely that Maria Viktorovna would be happy with the news about her exemplary son being un-Komsomol-like and taking money from elementary students to get cigarettes.

Seva bit his lip. That was the truth but saying it out loud didn’t make it any easier; Andrianovna definitely wouldn’t approve of such an answer. As if he had done something wrong! On the contrary, he tried to help the Octobrists, but no one appreciated his noble act. Lenya tried to buy him off with cigarettes, but you couldn’t buy Seva so cheap. However, none in their trio needed to smoke. Rostik was an athlete, Dima had asthma, and Seva himself had an extreme adversarial to smoking. If Seva had his way, he wouldn’t want to see any cigarettes for a century!

“It was an accident.” Realizing the pause was prolonged, Seva muttered under his breath, “I won’t do it again.”

It was so unfair! The three of them messed up but why was he the only one shouldering the consequences? How could he call them comrades? If he would have known that they would run away from the crime scene so quickly, he would never have gone with them to beat out debts from Lenchik! He wouldn’t even greet them. However, Seva reluctantly admitted, he didn’t hold much of a grudge against Rostik. Rostik had at least made an attempt to pull him along. But Dima, he ran off without even looking back!

“You’re not a kid anymore!” The head teacher threw up her hands. “I’ve already heard from you this ‘it was an accident’ excuse and the ‘don’t call my father, Rosalia Andrianovna, this won’t happen again’ line, but what’s the use? Once a hooligan, always a hooligan!”

“But it really was only an accident!” Seva jumped up resentfully.

“I don’t believe that you could accidentally hit her window; Maria Viktorovna lives on the fourth floor!”

“I was aiming at the window leaf.” Deciding that the situation could not be saved, Seva gave up. “So that Lenya could meet us in the street.”

“What were you thinking?!” Rosalia Andrianovna was horrified. “This is ridiculous! Temkin, you’re already in the ninth grade! Moreover, you are a Komsomol member! Did you leave your brain in elementary school? What kind of example do you set for the younger ones? You’re disrupting lessons, your academic performance is inexcusable, and now you’re also breaking windows!”

“You’re rude to teachers, you don’t communicate with your classmates, you twist off the lightbulbs in the bathroom …” Mentally, Seva continued the list of his “merits”. He had heard it before and had heard it more than once. He was so bored with all these accusations! Moreover, most of them were unfounded; Andrianovna hung all the sins on him out of habit.

Once, last year, Seva unscrewed the lightbulbs in the bathroom, but no one noticed him. Yet Andrianovna didn’t hesitate to say, “It was Temkin!”

There was no evidence, but everyone immediately thought of him. It was offensive, even though he deserved it. And Seva never disrupted any lessons. He wasn’t that much of an attention-seeker. What kind of example should he even set for the Octobrists?

“Listen, Temkin, if you keep this up–”

“Then I can’t blame anyone else but myself. I will be expelled from the Komsomol; I would not be able to see either the Communist Party or have a decent future,” Seva finished the always repeated threat.

They would not expel him from the Komsomol, that he was sure of. There was not a single case in his memory where someone was kicked out, at least during his school years. Only the university students could be kicked out—for having low academic performances. But Seva was not going to go to any university so his academic performance in the Komsomol did not particularly bother him. What was the use? That only concerned those who were going to build a career, which he had no plans of doing.