When I stepped into the classroom, the desk next to mine was empty. Had Smirnov somehow managed to change the schedule? I snorted quietly, adjusted my backpack on my shoulder, and made my way to my seat, offering the teacher an apologetic smile for being late. As soon as I sat down and began hastily rifling through my bag for the things I needed, a sharp, unpleasant screech pierced the air—someone had shifted the chair beside me. Then, soft and melodic, a voice spoke:
"Hi."
I lifted my head. The fact that Smirnov had initiated the conversation was already in my favor. Now, he couldn't slip away after class had started. Of course, talking under the teacher's watchful eyes would be tricky, but I wasn't about to let the opportunity slip by.
Eduard settled into the nearby chair, sliding to the very edge of the desk as he always did. With practiced ease, he pulled a leather-bound notebook and a pen from his bag, then turned his attention to me, ignoring the teacher's lecture entirely.
Even with damp, tousled hair, he looked like he had stepped straight out of a commercial for hair gel. A shadow of a smile flickered on his perfect lips, and for the first time, his face seemed… friendly, despite the careful watchfulness in his eyes.
"Sorry about last time," he began, watching my reaction closely during the pause. "I didn't even get a chance to introduce myself. I had a terrible stomach ache. I wasn't really myself. My name is Eduard—or Edik, if you prefer. I already know yours; everyone's talking about the new girl."
Such meticulous politeness. It was easy to accept his explanation, but the story about the phone lingered in my mind like an unsolved puzzle. Now he even knew how I corrected my name. Was he… eavesdropping on everyone?
"Why didn't you call me Anastasia, like everyone else?"
Eduard's brow furrowed. "Do you ask people to call you that specifically?" His confusion was evident, written across his handsome face.
"Yes. I just… don't remember mentioning it around you."
He shrugged and opened his notebook, looking away.
"Nothing surprising, really. Everyone's talking about you—from younger students to teachers. Even women in the supermarket were whispering about the suddenly appearing daughter of a police officer."
Caught.
"So you listen to whispers in supermarkets too?" I asked, incredulous.
"Not my fault some people's whispers are as loud as music in a stadium," he replied with a sly smirk, then turned to rewrite the topic on the board.
I glanced at Kirill Nikolaevich, who was watching us. Realizing I hadn't even opened my notebook, I scrambled to catch up. Meeting the teacher's eyes, I offered a silent apology through my efforts, and he nodded, continuing the lesson.
Today, we had a laboratory session. Thankfully, the teacher had only just begun explaining the key points. Walking between the rows, he distributed sets of specimen glasses to each pair. Our task was to identify the stages of metastasis and place the slides in the correct order, examining each through a microscope. Onion root cells, no internet, textbooks tucked away in bags. Twenty minutes.
"Shall we, ladies first?" Eduard asked, sliding the microscope to the center of the table.
I studied him carefully, weighing my thoughts: had he been following me obsessively, or how had he even found my phone?
"If you want, I can start," Eduard said hesitantly, noticing my pause. "It's up to you."
Deciding that his answer might reveal motives I wasn't ready to untangle, I chose to focus on the lab and avoid trouble with Kirill Nikolaevich.
"I'll start," I said, moving my chair closer. Eduard tensed slightly, freezing despite the space between us.
I took the nearby glass slide and placed it under the microscope, adjusting the lens to forty times magnification. It took a moment to sharpen the image.
"Prophase," I announced confidently.
As I went to remove the slide, his fingers brushed against mine. I flinched—his touch was unexpectedly cold, like holding a glass of ice—but it wasn't the chill that startled me. It was the sudden, electric thrill that ran through me, making my body tighten involuntarily.
"Are you sure you don't have anemia?" I blurted, glancing at his pale skin. "Your hands… they're still icy."
A mischievous smile curved his lips, dimples appearing at the corners. He looked away, examining the new slide with intensified interest.
"You're right. Prophase," he said, replacing the slide deftly. "My father's a doctor, very concerned about his children's health. Annual check-ups, every test imaginable."
"It must be expensive, keeping track of so many siblings."
Eduard shrugged, as if money were the last thing on his mind.
"So your classmates have already mapped the family tree and hidden treasures in the Smirnov mansion, the legendary 'great Smirnov couple'?"
"Well… not exactly."
I hesitated. I hadn't expected such a question. Eduard's smiling mask stayed in place, and even as he examined the second slide, he kept one eye on me.
"You just… stand out," he said.
"How so?"
"Something about you. The whole school seems to be going crazy over you."
"But not you?"
"What kind of question is that?"
"Just a question."
Heat rose to my cheeks. What could I even say? Your family won the genetic lottery? Viola's golden hair pales next to yours? You spend every evening in the gym, yet look effortlessly perfect?
"Yes… not me," I muttered. "Everything here is new to me, so my eyes wander. I'm curious, observing everything, trying to find something to hold onto. I spent summer here long ago… My parents divorced. Kostya stayed in Kserton, and…"
"When you say 'Kostya,' do you mean Konstantin Cherny, the policeman?"
I nodded, amazed once again at how everyone seemed connected.
"Your father is a good man," Eduard said, straightening, setting aside his microscope. "Interphase."
"You know him?"
He looked at the ceiling, weighing his words, then gave an ambiguous shake of his head. "You could say that. He consults with my father sometimes. There aren't many specialists here, and my dad has experience in forensic medicine. He helps out of kindness."
"And you?"
"I help at the hospital sometimes," Eduard said, pride gleaming in his eyes. "That's how I sometimes cross paths with you."
"Interesting," I thought, noting the Kserton tendency to follow parental footsteps. "Shall I check the phase?"
Eduard gestured, inviting me. "Please."
I leaned in, adjusting the microscope, only to make the focus worse. Biting my lip, I twisted the dial back and forth, concentrating so hard that his voice became a blur of sounds in my head. Then I remembered my purpose—and managed to focus.
"By the way," I said, pausing to catch his attention. Eduard stopped, waiting. "Thank you for returning my phone."