style="font-size:15px;"> Here she is walking to the teacher’s table, catching his eyes, which are staring at her legs, and stopping midway. Konstantin Konstantinovich Kolotozashvili, dressed in a loose red shirt, with a high collar and wide sleeves, gathered at the cuffs, which is open at the chest and tucked into tight black pants, rises from his chair and stands to his full considerable height. He extends his arms towards Dina and says in a rich baritone, “Congratulations on an excellent finish of the semester, Dina Aleksandrovna.”
In the exact moment that Dina, trembling with happiness, realized that her teacher was actually Muslim Magomaev, somehow here, in the exam auditorium, her neighbor Vera stuck her head through the doorway, and unceremoniously interrupted this incredible moment of meeting her favorite singer:
“Dina, why aren’t you getting changed? Some tea would be nice.”
Dina clearly knew that Vera was not present at the exam…
She opened her eyes.
Muslim Magomaev was looking at Dina from the photographic print, with a red shirt open at the chest, extending his arms towards her, with his mouth wide open, as if he was saying “Congra-a-atulations.” Vera was sitting at the table, leaning back on the squeaking chair.
“You’ve got nothing to do anyway,” she added. As if Dina needed to be persuaded or compelled!
Dina stood up, fixed her clothing, and picking up the kettle that stood on the windowsill, stepped out of the room. She headed to the kitchen to boil the water on the gas stove, and so couldn’t hear the conversation of her two neighbors behind her.
Vera: “She’s so lucky, getting out of this exam.”
Valya: “Yes, and with perfect marks too.”
Vera: “Well, she doesn’t get these fives easily.”
Valya: “Yeah… only this one seems to have dropped down from the sky.”
“Yup, you don’t say. And from Kokon, of all people!”
“Maybe she has really caught his eye?”
“Hmmm, maybe. She’s not gorgeous but she can present herself well.”
“That’s true.”
“She’ll be an idiot if she falls for him.”
“Yeah… Like Rimma, and then she’ll need to get an abortion… Where is our Rimma, by the way?”
“In the reading room, maybe.”
“Ha! Rimma in the reading room! Don’t make me laugh!”
“She needs to retake the exam with Barbara, and unless she studies her butt off in the reading room, she won’t pass.”
“True.”
Dina entered the room in that moment, together with the boiling kettle and Rimma, the fourth occupant of the room, whom Vera and Valya had just been gossiping about.
Rimma
Rimma, an eye-catching brunette with dark gray eyes and the graceful moves of a capricious cat, was a very attractive girl. Yes, it could be said that Rimma was the only exception to Dina’s theory that beautiful people were either not real or lived in faraway places. Like Anna Magnani.
Rimma was good at utilizing the modest arsenal of makeup that the poor university students could afford: pearly eye shadow in either gray or light blue, often bought from gypsies, made from goodness knows what, and placed in a plastic black or white checkers piece, covered with a piece of cellophane, and dark pink lipstick, which she saved for special occasions. Her eyeliner was the same as most of the other girls: a black pencil from the Artwork pencil set. Rimma wore her hair in a ponytail, like Dina and most of the girls, but her hair was thicker and shinier than the others. Yes, Rimma could certainly be called a beautiful girl.
She was also very good at drawing. She had a large set of pencils in a huge carton, which opened and could be set up in a special way, so that the pencils were displayed at a few different levels, and a box with pastels. Rimma used the pencils for the usual drawing album, and the pastels for large and small pieces of black paper, which were used to cover photoplates, and which, Rimma said, her father especially collected for her from his photograph friends. Rimma Yakovleva also sang beautifully and played the guitar.
But she studied at university without any desire or diligence. Maybe not everyone, but Dina knew that it was not because Rimma was stupid. It was just that she found it boring. Nobody knew what she was really interested in – perhaps drawing, singing and reading?
Dina poured the hot water into the special infusing teapot that Vera and Valya had prepared, while Rimma said cheerfully,
“Hi! I’m just in time, as usual.”
Vera, who liked to say something spiteful at every opportunity, did not fail to do so. “Oh yes, as always, straight to the table.”
Rimma, who must have been in a good mood, laughed. “All right, Vera! I’ll wash the dishes today.”
“What wonderful news!” Vera replied sarcastically.
Rimma did not respond to that, but took out a block of chocolate and placed it on the table.
“I almost forgot – here – I got a present. I haven’t even taken a bite of it myself!”
Vera, deciding to completely kill Rimma’s unexpectedly good mood, spoke again. “So who is feeding you chocolate, then?”
“Someone,” Rimma replied mysteriously and started spreading butter on a slice of baguette.
“Someone Someonevich Kolotozashvili?” asked the horrid girl.
Rimma looked at Vera in bewilderment, her eyes filled with tears, and she threw the unfinished sandwich on the table and ran out of the room.
Valya timidly criticized Vera. “What did you say that for? You know that…”
Vera, feeling guilty but refusing to admit it, snapped back. “No, I don’t. She didn’t say anything to me personally.”
“I told you.” Valya spoke timidly but reproachfully.
Dina took Valya’s side. “Go and apologize.”
“I won’t. What a princess! It’s her fault for being such an idiot around a guy like him.”
Valya stood up and left the room.
Vera, who had learned since childhood that the best form of defense is attack, turned to Dina. “Did Kokon give you an automatic five just because, or is he making a move on you too?”
“Could be just because, and could be because he’s making a move,” Dina spoke calmly, without pausing her tea drinking.
“Why the vagueness? Is he making a move or not?” Vera persisted.
“If I were you, I would find Rimma and say sorry.”
“Did you know about Rimma’s abortion, too?”
Dina nearly choked
