The teacher. Ksenia Albertovna Nikitina
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note that the girl regularly attended all the physics classes taught by Mr. Harris, the second man in the women's College, immediately after the second literature lesson. This made Tom stiffen a little, almosttable. «Do you support the idea of fascism? In other words, you are against Jews and for a pure race?» Lily looked at the teacher as if she were a fool and shook her head even more violently.
«I'm not an Aryan or a Jew. My mother is Russian, if that's what you mean.» The teacher grinned guiltily.
«I am a Jew.» Lily hesitated, looking at the door.
«Then what is the reason for your absence from my classes? According to your report card, you're doing well in all your subjects, but you don't go to my classes.» The teacher flipped through the magazine, surprised to see excellent grades and good grades, wanting to look at the root of the problem, but the girl is tightly covered with a veil, as if it torments her daily, and she is already used to the silence in which she stood up. «So what's the reason, young lady? I don't want to take you to the Director.» Lily shrugged, not knowing what to say or where to begin.
«Well. I got my degree a long time ago and I want to help you.» Again Lily shrugged her shoulders.
«There is one reason.» Thomas narrowed his eyes, listening intently, but the girl paused again, searching for the right words. «My neighbour works in a warehouse on Tuesdays and doesn't go to London to give me a lift.» The man nodded understandingly.
«What about the bus?»
«The first bus doesn't leave until seven-thirty, and classes start at eight sharp. I can't physically do it.» Lily said, straightening her tie.
«Don't you like the College Dorm?» Thomas didn't back down.
«Not at all, not. I just can't stay here all the time because I need to be home.»
«Do you have a family?»
«I have a little brothers to take care of.»
The teacher nodded again, making a long sound.
«What do parents do?»
«Mother is a stay-at-home mom, but she recently suffered leg paralysis and hasn't moved in six months.»
«And your father?»
«He's an attaché, but he doesn't live with us now.»
«Why?» Shulman went over the edge of a business conversation, too deeply immersed in the student's problems.
Lily pursed her lips, not wanting to answer a personal question. The man finally calmed down, leaned back in his chair, ruffled his straight, clean hair, and stared thoughtfully out the window.
«Sorry.» Lily only smiled slightly as she accepted his apology and glanced at the door. Understanding the hint, the man decided to let go of the girl, unclenching the invisible paws of flared curiosity and interest.
«Well, run.» Tom glanced at his pocket watch as he took it out of his pocket. «You have time for Breakfast. Try to get admission to the exam for your own sake, okay?»
She hurried out of the office, took a deep breath of the cool air, descended the steep stairs, passed through the other floors, and went to the bathroom to wash her face in hot, red, icy water.
Part II
Thomas Schulman walked down the narrow College corridor with a thin notebook in his left hand. Adjusting his black drape coat and removing his hat, the man rubbed his thick and short beard and knocked several times on the flimsy door, from behind which the girl's soft screams could be heard. Thomas had long been used to the noise, screeching, and laughter of the girls who gnawed the granite of science in this wonderful institution, after which a good half will go off the right path, and only a part will escape to the people. But what kind of people they were was also a moot point, and as soon as he opened the door, he entered the seemingly half-empty office. Light walls with a large number of formulas and stands, large windows and lack of any comfort. Large racks of tools, test tubes, and other junk that had never been used, and the mouldy ceiling needed replacing. Twenty-year-old mares raced between the white desks, trying to rip off everything necessary for the upcoming experiments and beat the hell out of the student garbage that was already being handed out to them through their teeth. Edward Harris, a forty-eight-year-old physics and astronomy teacher, sat up slightly at the teacher's desk. His straight black hair was tousled and covered with fine grey at the temples, his greenish-brown almond-shaped and sly eyes were fixed on a book, and his fingers were clutching an ink pen that had stained his sleeve. His thin lips were compressed, and his narrow face was completely calm as he looked at the madness in the classroom. The table was soiled, scribbled, and covered with chalk. The brown Board behind him was drawn by a familiar hand. Thomas looked around the group again, looking for a suitable student whose Notebook he was holding. A few girls sat at the very end, their slender legs propped up on the tables, giggling and chatting, ignoring the two teachers of the opposite sex. Three girls were looking out of the window, drawing something on the fogged glass. Yung, on the other hand, sat in the third row, her head in her hands, her brown eyes closed. Sharp knees and pale thighs protruded from under a skirt that had been accidentally pulled up, and her friend sat on the edge of the skirt and talked to the sleeping girl. Thin, light underwear flashed between Lily's legs as she crossed her legs, continuing to doze as her friend told her story. No one in the class paid any attention to Thomas. If this had been his lesson, the girls wouldn't have dared to go from whisper to voice, let alone throw up their half-naked legs. The man stared at Lily for a moment, finding himself admiring her, and then turned to Edward with a soft chuckle. This man was always absent-minded and thoughtful. I think all geniuses are a bit weird and mysterious, but this guy Shulman read once or twice. Edward's sly and playful gaze first swept over the girls ' legs, and then with great difficulty switched to the Jew who held out his hand.
«I welcome you! »
Shulman nodded, leaning his elbows on the table. The noise in the classroom was wild, as if small children had come to the first class, not adults; some even married girls who had received medical education.
«How are you? I see you have rebellion and disgrace here.» Edward smiled, occasionally glancing at Lily's feet, which were now his only comfort.
«Youth will forgive them.» Harris grumbled, still looking at the girl's feet.
«Youth will remember them all, » Thomas thought, remembering why he had come.
«Can I steal a student from you, just for a few minutes?»
The man nodded, waving his hand around the «assortment» with the words-any. Shulman forced a smile, feeling like a brothel customer choosing a date for the night.
«I need Yung, » he said.
Harris nodded politely, calling the girl by name, which made the quick Jew a little embarrassed. The physicist's lustful eyes darted to her. The girl started, looking around dazedly, vaguely answering the teacher's question about what she had done during the night. Tom could only make out the word «work» as he fiddled with his hat. Lily froze in shock for a split second, finally noticing Mr. Shulman standing at the teacher's Desk with her notebook in his hand. After buttoning the top button and straightening her tie, Lily took a step toward him, deftly leaping over someone's backpack. A maroon jumper was pulled over a thin body, a black tie was pulled tight in a hurry, and a crumpled skirt fell below the knees. Her thick hair fell over her shoulders, shining slightly, and her brown eyes were downcast with embarrassment. The man let the girl go ahead and opened the door for her, smiling faintly with his eyes as he stood against the North wall in a dark corridor with a dim light. Thomas straightened his back, squared his broad shoulders, and handed the notebook back to the student. Lily took the notebook back, still staring blankly into the gray-green eyes opposite.
«I read your essays with interest.»
Lily nodded, pursing her lips, not sure if she should say anything back. She also didn't know that an hour ago, Thomas had been sitting in his office sorting through a huge pile of ignorant papers, finally staring blankly at the wall, thinking about the last gang fight where a young boy had died at his hands. The dark brown desk was littered with junk, and a thin Notebook sat on the edge of it.
«Why