The teacher. Ksenia Albertovna Nikitina
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have left it in College? » he asked himself, feeling like an ass.
Since the notebook was at hand, the Jew decided to take a little break from the bloody and masculine Affairs, opening the first sheet. The girl's initials were scrawled on the title page in the upper corner, but his name was written very neatly and in a very real calligraphic hand. «mr. Thomas Shulman»-dark blue smooth letters lay softly on the white sheet, sliding sideways with a slight tilt. Tom ran his fingers over the dry paper, feeling a slight tingling in the pads, either from the poor quality of the paper or from something else that was foreign to him. Turning the page, he read the text, noting clever statements and overly harsh arguments about love, correcting grammatical errors here and there. He knew that at her age it was unacceptable to be so disillusioned and insightful, which a disaster was. Nevertheless, the words caught and allowed Shulman to look into her soul, which turned out to be a real darkness, tangled with contradictions and grounds. Tom has already read fourteen similar essays from girls her age, half of whom have not yet held a penis in their hands, a quarter have lived with their husbands, and several others have broken men like seeds. But Yung didn't fit into any category, which worried the literature teacher beyond words. Lily flipped through the notebook, smiling contentedly at her good grades and glancing at Thomas, who was just as happy to be able to cheer her up and give her confidence.
«I wrote down my grades in the journal, but you… you will have to pass two more tests. »
Lily nodded.
«Is it okay to be 'you'? »
Lily shook her head, still looking into his gray eyes and feeling a slight tremor in her knees.
«The schedule changes from Monday, so literature is moved to Tuesday for the first lesson. » Thomas pulled out a small blue notebook, checking his notes with a familiar frown.
The girl continued to listen, crossing her arms over her chest as if to protect herself from the man's insistent gaze.
«And on Tuesday, I'm ready to see you after all classes. For two hours. »
Thomas finished by putting the same hand in his coat pocket and noticing the girl's gaze. Lily nodded again, and then stopped.
«Mr. Shulman …» the man looked up questioningly, listening intently to the girl, who blushed as she shyly picked a small hole in the wall and chipped off a piece of beige paint. «I have practice at two o'clock on Tuesday. »
The teacher stared at her with a grey and empty stare, expressing absolute indifference to the situation. «Then decide what is more important to you: a diploma or running around the field.»
Tuesday
Lily tapped softly on the door of Mr. Shulman's office, opening it slightly by the iron handle. There was no one at the table, and no one inside, so the girl boldly entered the classroom, threw her bag on the table, and plopped down wearily on a chair.
«So where is this slicker? »
There was a sigh from behind, and Lily jumped up, turning to face Mr. Shulman, who was sitting in the back row, smiling contentedly.
«Well, at least not a Jew, or an old moron or something worse. »
Lily clutched her head guiltily, cursing herself for getting tangled up like a ball of silk thread.
It would have been stupid to apologize, so the girl was silent, looking at the man's groin, lost in tension.
«For you, inquisitive, I'm as flat as a toy soldier in my pants…» Tom said, pulling out the necessary papers, wanting to lighten the situation with a joke, but only making it worse. Lily immediately turned away, feeling even more guilty, wanting to run somewhere far away, cursing herself for her own absent-mindedness, so that she wouldn't look him in the eye again.
Before that, the pale face flared up like fire. The man handed her the test, inviting her to sit next to him at the same table.
«Move your chair!»
Reluctantly, Lily got up from her seat, dragged the heavy furniture over, and sat down next to Thomas, swallowing hard. The man, not wanting to violate the chain of command and personal space, moved a little to the window, noticing how the team of girls chases the ball on the green field.
«Write a test, » Tom muttered, slipping a blank sheet of paper under the girl's elbow. Lily took an ink pen, trying to write the date and name, but all the ink ended up treacherously, scared of Shulman. Unsurprisingly. The teacher scratched his beard, and then handed her a pen with a fine engraving, which seemed to the girl terribly heavy.
«Thank you.» Her slender fingers couldn't handle the mechanism, so the owner of the pen wrapped his arm around Lily's arm, took a shaky breath, and wrote her last name together.
«Not fatal, is it?»
The student shook her head at these questions, feeling that Shulman's insistent gaze on her profile was distracting her from her task. The high forehead, smooth cheekbones, and small nose touched the thoughtful Thomas. Brown eyes darted around the classroom, occasionally squinting, and plump lips brushed his hand, leaving a trail.
After a few minutes, the man got up and walked around the office, muttering to himself, sighing, leaning in close to Lily from time to time, inhaling her perfume, leaving his own behind, which soaked into her skin, hair, and clothes, and was interrupted by fresh Cologne. Gray eyes searched for answers, blinking and grumbling.
«Why are you so disappointed, Lily? » came the hoarse question in the silence, interrupted by the rasp of a sharp pen on paper.
Lily looked at Mr. Shulman, who was standing between the two table's with his hands on them and the sleeves of his beige shirt rolled up. His dark eyes were fixed directly on her, and his lips were compressed and barely visible behind the thick vegetation.
«What makes you think that? »
«You write an essay about a love you don't believe in. Don't you have a boyfriend who can prove otherwise?»
The girl dropped her pen. Outside the window, an icy rain began to fall, as if washing over Lily's inner sadness. The dark clouds appeared too quickly, as did the interest and curiosity of the Jew waiting for an answer.
«Why waste time on someone who won't even remember you in ten years?»
The man straightened up.
«Love is just a collective concept, isn't it? What are we waiting for under the word «love»? Beautiful promises, prickly rose thorns, loud vows, a warm bed, and estrangement in the end?»
Thomas nodded, humming politely, choosing his words.
«Don't you think it's worth looking at from the right angle? You don't think so, do you? Beautiful promises are promises that give a part of the soul. Prickly thorns are part of the beautiful roses, and the bed is warmed by two, without them it is cold. Too many contradictions, Miss Yung. »
The girl chuckled.
«Not for me. You are a literature teacher and you tend to romanticize everything.»
Tom stifled a chuckle, wishing he was still a romantic in her eyes, not the leader of a gang that had hundreds of ruined lives and many times as many broken destinies on its hands.
«What about your passes? Is the issue resolved?»
Lily nodded, passing the answers to the man.
«Well, let's see…» the man raised his thin glasses, through which the paper text was reflected.
The elements were raging outside the window. Rain lashed through the slightly cracked old windows, letting in a biting chill.
Part III
On Wednesday afternoon, Thomas was in a hurry to go about his business, but the thought of the student's absence bothered him. What if she had already been killed and thrown into a ditch on the way home? She must have been hitchhiking. Anxiety and curiosity consumed him, and Tom took her personal file from the Director's office, studied it with interest, and went to the right address. No information other than that her father is an attaché and her mother is a homemaker. Address and phone number, that's all.
«Not