After bidding Nik goodbye, I slipped behind the door of the women's changing room. His last words lingered in my mind, carrying the faint promise that he found me appealing, and a warm, pleasant flutter spread through my chest. At my old school, boys had rarely noticed me. I had never kissed anyone, and I still had a whole year before turning eighteen. Perhaps Nik might be the first. Even the Western-style shortening of his name no longer grated on my ears; now, it seemed almost sweet, echoing with the thought of him.
Teacher Bobylev signed the permission slip and allowed us to sit on the bench for the first class, nipping any idea of doing research papers instead of exams in the bud. Back in Rostov, I'd only attended physical education classes twice during my senior years. Our homeroom teacher—a saintly woman—had let me and a few other girls skip lessons under the pretense of helping with the school newspaper. In reality, we'd locked ourselves in her office, sipping tea, nibbling on sweets everyone had brought from home, and talking about books. I adored those literary Thursdays. That was, perhaps, what I would miss the most about my old life.
Sports had never been my ally. Poor coordination had been my constant companion since childhood. My mother always joked that my legs ran ahead of my head, which explained my frequent falls. My father disagreed. When Maria brought me for the summer, Kostya tried every open sports club in town, convinced I simply hadn't found the right one yet. Swimming, volleyball, basketball, gymnastics, even ballet—all fell victim to nature's unequal struggle.
Sitting quietly through the entire class on the bench, happy that no ball came flying my way, I reluctantly made my way down to the first floor, to the duty teacher's desk. As I turned the corner toward the recreation room, I froze. Eduard stood there. I recognized him from behind—his tousled bronze hair unmistakable. Pressing myself against the wall, I silently prayed he hadn't noticed me, waiting for him to leave.
He muttered as he leaned over the teacher's desk, pointing at the schedule with insistence. I didn't catch every word, but the meaning was clear: he wanted to reschedule his biology classes for another time.
I was stunned. Was it… because of me? Ridiculous, surely. He must have some other reason. And yet, the stress of moving, new people, a new life with my father—maybe my mind was playing tricks on me. It couldn't be about me. We hadn't even spoken. And yet… in my head, I had a long list of things I wanted to say to him.
Suddenly, two boys barreled past me, nearly knocking me over. Their whirlwind tossed a couple of stray hairs across my face. Eduard froze. Slowly, he lifted his chin and glanced at me sideways, that same intense, heavy gaze locking onto me. A shiver ran through me, my skin prickling, hairs standing on end. For a second, I was frozen under his stare. Then he leaned back over the desk.
"Well," he said, his voice smooth but tense, "if there's nothing we can do, we'll have to endure it. Sorry for wasting your time. Take care." Without waiting for the teacher's reply, he turned sharply and strode out the main entrance, leaving the building—and me—numb in his wake.
I approached the teacher's desk, handing her the duty roster.
"How was your first day, Anastasia?"
"Great," I whispered, my throat tight with lingering resentment. I couldn't even summon the energy to correct her. Surprisingly, she didn't ask another question. After checking the signatures, we said our goodbyes.
Outside, I quickly spotted my father's colleague's car. Sliding into the back seat, I let the tears I had been holding in for the entire day finally fall.