"BABY + MARINKA = ..."

... she passes by and I can feel the air melting. Evaporates, disappears, and I seem to have nothing to breathe. I stand, boy, what hundreds in our school, and I know that I do not have the strength to turn her gaze. Look at me. I hesitate to claim it. Marina always looks ahead - confidently and purposefully. The spring wind accelerated on the school playground and brought her scent to me. Soft, fragrant, the creation of perfumes and pure maiden skin, he tickles my nostrils and makes me stand still. None of my friends will believe that I feel how Marina smells fondly from a distance of five meters. But I believe myself. I like the weather vane, which always turns in her direction. She is a school komsomol and I am one of many for her. The average candidate for the Komsomol, without success in school and social work. My lungs take in air, and my eyes take in her wake. Legs, amazingly slender, in a short skirt, as for a Komsomol activist, knock their heels along the avenue, heading for classes. At the entrance, Ognev barely smiles at her - he is one of the first to come to work, like a real owner. The school is his territory, he is its director, and Marina is his daughter. She politely greets father as if they hadn’t seen each other at home this morning. Pavel Sergeevich Ognev pleased. Marina is his pride and support. He loves his work and loves his daughter. Exemplary school and exemplary family.

- Bitch! - I heard behind my back and turned around. Waha, a strong tenth-grader, stuck in the last classes for two years, smirking, looked at Marina. His classmate, she constantly on charges criticized his antics. At the last such meetings, Vakha frankly “hammered” without appearing, and, counting on a certificate, literally “fell short” of his studies.

“Che staring at her?” - Waha snapped my ear, without anger. My view on Marina did not go without his attention. Waha had a reputation as a difficult guy, a bully, for whom the colony was crying, but he was my friend, took care of me and "taught life." Brave, always said what he thought and did what he wanted. No one at that moment caused me such admiration. In the area, no one touched me, the whole scribe knew that I was a “boy Vahi”, and he did not give his offense to his friends. I studied two classes younger and spent the evening with the Vahina company, older guys. They all lived next door and considered me "theirs." I respected them for their insolence and freedom, they for me - for the fact that I wanted to be like them.

“He’s fingering her at night,” Aslan added cheerfully. He stood next to Vaha and was his sidekick friend, as well as an accomplice in numerous tricks and police records. Dark and wiry Caucasian, Aslan was able to "pin up." Embarrassment painted over my face.

“Shut up,” I decided bravely to put the chum in place. Aslan wanted to click my ear, but Waha stopped him.

“Sha,” he said, smiling generously, “You can't see how Tiny has a crush on her?”

“Kid” - this is how they called me, despite the physique developed for their age. Yet the difference in years with my company determined this attitude. I was not offended.

“Yes, I need her,” I declared with mock indifference, hiding the constraint.

“Beautiful,” Aslan said approvingly. I turned away, but Marina, her figure, stood before my eyes. It's time to go to class. I suppressed a sigh. I was destined only to look at her from the side.

At the third lesson, before the beginning, our “classroom” suddenly entered, and not one. With her were girls from the 10th grade, future graduates. She was one of them! I felt my heart pounding. Literally clutched at her blue eyes, with which she confidently examined the class, just sliding them over the faces of the students.

“Guys,” began the “cool.” - A month later, the annual exams begin. In order of patronage, high school students will help you prepare.For those subjects in which each of you lags behind the most.

The "classroom" began to imagine which of the girls which item would pull up with such boobies like us.

—... Lena is algebra, Tanya is physics, and, finally, Marina is Russian. Now I will distribute you.

Turn came to me.

“... Sasha is in a group of algebra,” announced my “cool” sentence. It was as if I had been hit on the head with a bag. The need to do something, to change the injustice of life this very moment seemed to blow me up from the inside.

“Natalya Nikolayevna,” suddenly I stood up resolutely and answered. - I am the most lagging behind in Russian.

It seemed to me that now the whole class would burst out laughing, prosecuting the reason for my request to “transfer” to another group. For a girl with beautiful blue eyes.

But the guys were silent, no one was concerned about my progress. The “classroom” thought for a moment, mentally noted that there was no difference between my two maths and Russian, and she agreed. Marina looked at me for the first time, and it seemed to me that she smiled. Barely noticeable, only the corners of his red lips, but I saw it.

Marina, after the distribution was over, immediately declared her sponsor that the classes would be held individually, 2 times a week with each.

“Your days are Tuesday and Friday, from five to six,” she announced to me my schedule and noted in her notebook. She no longer paid attention to me. Soon the girls left, the lesson began, and I was still trying to recover. The idea that I have to spend several hours in the company of Marina, even as a student, excited me. I did not listen to the “classroom”, I was not able to focus on the topic of classes. I was only thinking about her.

Tuesday came. I will not describe all the expectations and worries. This morning I carefully ironed my shirt and school trousers, combed my hair, and looked at myself in the mirror for a long time, like a girl. Mom noticed this, asking with a grin who I was going on a date with, and making me turn away from her, hiding my eyes. The lessons stretched painfully slowly, for another three hours before the individual lesson I was hanging out on the street, not wanting to go home and looking at my watch.

I was waiting for her in the classroom of language and literature when she entered. Right, minute by minute. In a white school blouse, under which two balls of a girl's chest bulged out, Marina looked stunning in a short skirt. And even the blond braid, braided behind her back, emphasized her slimness.

“Well, literacy,” she began with a good laugh. - We will be engaged.

- My name is Sasha, - I found the strength to speak firmly. I tried to look at ease and confidently, to suppress the treacherous excitement.

- Beautiful name, - said the girl. - That was the name of Pushkin and Blok. You will write as competently as they do.

She dictated a short dictation to me, I tried to listen attentively to her voice and intonation in order to avoid a lot of mistakes, but the letters were confused, and the commas seemed to fail on paper. I tried to concentrate with all my strength and felt myself in her shadow, which she cast as she stood over me and recited the text. Her voice sounded like a song.

Marina quickly checked the writing.

“Well, Sasha, there is something to work on,” she said only. - Sit closer, we will learn.

We sat side by side at the desk, alone in class. I felt my armpits sweat when she leaned toward me and told me about another rule. She was very close, and I knew that there was no feeling more beautiful than this. Her braid hung on my shoulder when Marina, carried away, walked with me on what was written. It was the first touch to her body. I tried to really remember everything she said to me, but my thoughts were mixed, and my voice repeated everything automatically. I felt ashamed when I caught myself staring at her bare legs while she read the next line with my mistakes. But I knew that I had made only one mistake. I inhaled her smell, now as close as it kills with my scent. This is the first passion in life, and I realized that the worst thing is to break away now ...