Zoya would never forget that she was older than Shura and would quite often chide him:
"Shura, do your buttons up! Where's the button? Torn it off again! It's no use sewing for you. Do you pull them off on purpose? You'll have to learn to sew them on yourself."
Shura was completely under her control, and, though strict, she never tired of looking after him. Sometimes, when angry with him, she would call him Alexander, his full name, which sounded much more impressive than the diminutive Shura.
"Alexander, your knees are through again! Take your stockings off at once!"
Shura would peel off his stockings submissively, and Zoya would darn all the holes.
Brother and sister were inseparable. They would go to bed at the same time, get up at the same time, go to school together, and come home together. Although Shura was almost two years younger than Zoya, they were nearly the same height. Moreover, Shura was far stronger. He had grown into a real young oak, while Zoya had stayed thin and looked frail. If the truth is to be told, Zoya did at times annoy her brother with her remarks, but he rarely rebelled, and even in the stormiest quarrel it never entered his head to push or hit her. Nearly always he obeyed her unquestioningly.
When they went up to the fourth grade, Shura said, "Well, that's that! I shan't sit with you on the same bench any longer. I've had enough of sitting with a girl!"
Zoya did not argue but answered firmly, "You shall sit with me. Or you'll start flying paper airplanes in class again. I know you."
Shura protested vehemently, jealous of his independence. I did not interfere. On the evening of September the 1st I asked, "Well, Shura, what boy are you sitting with now?"
"With a boy called Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya," answered Shura, frowning and grinning at the same time. "Just try arguing with her!"
I was very curious to know what Zoya was like with the other children. I had only seen her with Shura and on Sundays with the toddlers who used to invade our street.
Like Shura, the other youngsters thought much of Zoya and obeyed her every word. On her way back from school they would recognize her rapid walk and her red woollen hat from afar, and rush to meet her with shouts in which the main words were, "Read! Play! Tell!" Handing her schoolbag to Shura, Zoya, her olive-skinned cheeks flushed with the cold and excitement, would fling wide her arms and try to take up as big an armful as she could of the children crowding round her.
Sometimes forming them up in line, she would march along with them singing an old revolutionary song which she had learnt back in Aspen Woods, or other songs which they sang at school. Sometimes she would play at snowballs with the little ones, but with the patronizing restraint of a grownup. Not so Shura, who would forget everything on earth. Like lightning, he would pound snowballs, throw them, dodge approaching balls, and hurl himself into battle again without giving his adversaries a second's respite.
"Shura," Zoya would shout, "they're little! Go away! Don't you realize you mustn't play with them like that?"
Then she would pull the youngsters along on sledges, always seeing to it that each one was properly buttoned and wrapped up so that none of them had a draught in the ear or snow in their felt boots.
In summer, coming back from work, I once saw her by the pond surrounded by a flock of toddlers. She was sitting with her arms round her knees, looking thoughtfully at the water and relating something softly. I went nearer.
"…The sun is high, far the well does lie, the heat is great and makes you sweat," I heard. "They look and see a goat's hoof full of water. Quoth little Ivanushka, 'Sister Alyonushka, I'll drink from the hoof!' 'Don't drink, little brother, a goat you will become.' …"
I walked away quietly, taking care not to disturb the children: they were listening so intently, their faces so full of grieved sympathy for the disobedient, unlucky Ivanushka, and Zoya was repeating Grandma Mavra Mikhailovna's sad tones so truly and feelingly.
But what was Zoya like with children of her own age?
At one time she used to go to school with Lena, a girl from next door. Then I noticed that they were no longer going together.
"Have you had a quarrel with Lena?"
"No, not a quarrel. But I don't want to be friends with her."
"Why not?"
"She keeps on saying to me, 'Carry my case.' I used to carry it sometimes, and then I said, 'Carry it yourself, I've got my own to carry.' You see, if she were ill or weak, I would carry it, it's not difficult for me. But she's not, so why should I?"
"Zoya's right. That Lena likes to boss everybody around," put in Shura to clinch the matter.
"Well, and why have you stopped being friends with Tanya?"
"She tells a lot of fibs. Everything she says turns out to be untrue. I don't believe a word she says now. And how can you be friends if one doesn't believe the other? And what's more, she isn't fair. We play different games and she always cheats. And when we count out, she always cheats too."
"But you ought to tell her that it is bad to behave like that."
"Zoya's told her plenty of times!" Shura explained.
"And all the children have told her, and even Lydia Nikolayevna, but you can't do anything with her!"
I was worried that Zoya might be too strict towards others and find herself cut off from the class. When I had an hour to spare I called on Lydia Nikolayevna.
"Zoya is a very straight, honest girl," said Lydia Nikolayevna, when she had heard what I had to say. "She always lets the children have the truth straight from the shoulder. At first I was afraid she might rouse her comrades against her. But no, that did not happen. She likes to repeat, 'I'm for fair play.' And the children see that she really does defend what is right.
"The other day, you know," added Lydia Nikolayevna with a smile, "a boy asked me in front of everybody, 'Lydia Nikolayevna, you say you haven't any favourites, but what about Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya?' I admit I was taken aback a little. Then I asked him, 'Has Zoya helped you to do your exercises?' 'Yes, she has,' he answered. I turned to one of the others: 'And what about you?'—'She's helped me too.' 'And you? And you?' It turned out that Zoya had done something good for nearly every one of them. 'How can you help liking her then?' I asked. And they all agreed with me…Yes, they do like her…And, what's more, they respect her, and that, considering her age, is saying a lot."
"A very determined girl," Lydia Nikolayevna continued after a short silence. "She won't give up what she thinks is right. And the children realize that she is strict with herself, too. She demands as much from herself as she does from others. And of course, it is not easy to be friends with her. Now with Shura it's a different matter," smiled Lydia Nikolayevna. "That boy has plenty of friends. There's one thing though: he can't let the girls pass without teasing them or pulling their pigtails. You should speak to him about it."
Next: Sergei Mironovich Kirov