Читать книгу The teacher - Ksenia Albertovna Nikitina - Страница 2

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 the fuck did I take this fucking notebook with me when I could 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.