Spring Mayhem. Igor stood at the window for a long time and watched from the height of the second floor as people walked past the house. The sun melted the remaining snow from the sidewalks and roofs. There was water everywhere. It poured from above, flowed down gutters, and flowed along the asphalt. Passers-by were going about their different business. Those who did not pay attention to their surroundings and went to their own store, social security, or savings bank. All this was on the first floor of the opposite house...
Behind Igor, the chimes of an ancient home clock struck. The young man shuddered and turned around at half past twelve. I have to get ready for school soon. For some reason he thought about Galina Alexandrovna. He wanted to see her, to catch her gaze gray eyes, hear your last name and the question: “What do you think Privalov?” And he is ready to respond with a whole tirade about Gogol’s work, about why many of his works contain fantastic images.
On his desk lies a three-volume work by Nikolai Vasilyevich with many bookmarks.
This is the first lesson with her. And the second one is German. Then physics, mathematics, chemistry... But again his thoughts returned to Galina Alexandrovna. He wanted to see her. Beautiful face, graceful figure, proud gait of a ballerina.
Yes, there is between them intercom. It’s as if they read each other’s thoughts, as if they were the same age and Galina Alexandrovna, a student sitting next to him at the same desk, was suddenly asked to teach one lesson first. Then again and again. But every time in the teacher’s gaze, Igor read the promise to return to him.
The first lesson with her began in the ninth grade. In September, when Galina Aleksandrovna first entered their class and, calling out names from the magazine, brought the students up to meet them.
Privalov was seventh from the end. In front of him is Pleshakova, behind him is Rybakov, Stenina. Ugryumov...
- Voronin?
The girl sitting next to Igor reluctantly stood up.
- I.
- Favorite piece?
Lenka looked at Igor in confusion. She didn't have a favorite piece.
Zhenya Golunov, sitting behind him, whispered “Mother” to Gorky.
- Gorky's mother.
Everyone laughed. This work was not tested.
- Fine. Golunov?
Zhenya stood up.
What Igor was thinking about during this meeting, he could not say. His name sounded unexpectedly, and before it dawned on him, the teacher asked again:
- Privalov?
He stood up. Voronina giggled from the side.
- Favorite hero?
- What if the heroine? – asked Igor.
- Who?
- Tatyana Larina.
- Did you pass?
- My sister passed by.
- Okay, sit down.
Not “sit down”, but “sit down”. As an equal. Igor liked this.
Six months later, no, it was a year ago, in April, Voronina fell ill then, and some respectable inspectors led by headmistress Mamonova came to the lesson, Galina Aleksandrovna sat down next to Igor. The headmistress remained standing, the two guests were given chairs, and the high official began teaching a literature lesson. Somehow, wisely, he asked the students questions about life, about who they will become after school and whether they study well?
Galina Aleksandrovna did not betray her feelings in any way. She was just taking some notes.
She was very close, and Igor glanced sideways at her beautifully styled hair, clean line faces, a slightly stubborn chin, a thin neck. Unexpectedly for himself, Igor drew attention to the high breasts, which were large and the blouse parted, revealing a beautiful bra and part of the white tense flesh.
It was then that something woke up in him. He lowered his eyes and blushed, as if he had been caught doing something illegal.
Conversations in the locker room during physical education flashed through my head, when the boys talked about how the girls were now undressing. And it would be good to look at them.
“But also to fuck,” said Shustov. He had been shaving for a long time and they said that he lived with a neighbor on the landing and the couple’s parents had nothing against it.
Someone responded and there was talk about victories over girls. Trofimov, laughing, talked about how he once very successfully escorted Valyusha from a parallel class from the disco. “Well, she has boobs! - he exclaimed. “I’ve already crushed them...”
-Didn’t you look in the pussy? – Shustov asked, cackling.
“It was,” said Trofimov. But somehow unsure.
Everyone realized that nothing happened...
Then, at her desk, Galina Aleksandrovna did not seem to see any glances or the student’s condition.
A month later she left him after class. It was the last lesson, and Igor volunteered to write the script for a small production at a school party.
The first days of May were hot and the windows in the classroom were open.
“Sit at this desk,” the teacher suggested and pointed to the one that was in contact with her table.
She smelled of cream, deodorant and something else that could not be defined. Perhaps, if you remember how my sister smelled when she often ran to the bathroom, locked it, and then, coming out, carefully examined herself in the mirror. At the level of the legs and butt.
“Go, everything is fine,” the mother said and at the same time looked at her son with an unseeing gaze.
But no, it was different. Something sweet and... forbidden.
- The idea of ​​the performance? – asked Galina Alexandrovna. She opened the journal and began making notes in it. This time she was wearing a thin pullover with a small cutout, but her breasts seemed very large. It rose rhythmically with each breath and fell with each exhalation.
- Idea? – Igor asked again and thought about the teacher’s lips. They were bright and clearly outlined in an elegant bow on her rosy cheeks. – The idea, I think, is to go on stage, no, go out in order, in costumes literary heroes, found in our time. And their remarks about what they saw with us...
He talked and talked, but did not take his eyes off the young woman’s lips. He didn't see her put down the magazine and start looking at him.
And again his gaze fell on his chest. And he was again embarrassed at the thought of seeing her without clothes.
He quickly chattered and the teacher looked at her watch.
“Okay,” she said. - Make notes. Is a week enough?
Igor just nodded his head.
At night he slept in fits and starts, he dreamed of a teacher who was bathing him in the bathroom, but it turned out badly because there were dirty places on his body, and then the teacher entered the bathroom. How she ended up naked, Igor did not understand. He felt only great desire and their bodies were intertwined.
Only in the morning he fell asleep and was awakened by a shrill phone call from his mother, who decided to take him to school.
The performance turned out well, and it was noted with a special order from the school. After the exams, Igor went to the sea, to his aunt. And he stayed there until half of August. He almost forgot about Galina Alexandrovna, because for the first time he had a girl who allowed him everything. Her name was Oksana, and they swore love.
Autumn and winter somehow passed unnoticed. Igor became interested in basketball, and he spent a lot of time visiting the military registration and enlistment office and passing the commission. He and Zhenya Golunov decided to enroll in military school, definitely in flight. But there were many doctors, and an occulist could put an end to it.
And here is yesterday. Nothing seemed to happen.
As usual, the second shift waited outside for the first shift to end. At one o'clock in the afternoon the little ones came out, and then the teacher on duty at the school gave the go-ahead. Within a few minutes, such a whirlwind and hubbub began in the foyer that usually the more experienced students let everyone through and managed to calmly go to their classes. Yesterday Igor found himself in a whirlpool, and the crowd carried him to the wall, where he collided with Galina Alekseevna. For a moment they were pressed against each other, Igor felt dizzy from what he felt elastic body women and their unusual smells.
Galina Aleksandrovna, unexpectedly for everyone, shouted very loudly and all the students, hearing her for the first time in anger, fell silent. They quickly dissolved, and Igor bent down to pick up the folder, which was knocked out of Galina Alexandrovna’s hands in the whirlpool.
She thanked him and lightly touched his arm.
What was that? An act of gratitude, just an accident or a deliberate movement?
Igor peered at the passers-by and suddenly saw opposite side, at the bus stop, a teacher getting off the bus. It was she, Galina Aleksandrovna. She took some piece of paper out of her pocket, then looked at the house numbers and confidently headed towards Igor’s house under the green light at the intersection.
Having crossed the road, she was already walking towards the entrance. And suddenly, raising her head, she looked at the window, behind the glass of which stood Igor. He stepped back, although behind the tulle curtain he was hardly visible from the outside.
Soon the bell rang and Igor, standing at the door, saw through the “peephole” the woman’s slightly distorted face.
He opened it.
- Privalov? Can I come in?
- Yes, yes.
Galina Alexandrovna handed over her cloak and elegant hat. She found herself in a dark blue suit that hugged her figure tightly. She did not take off her light gauze scarf, and it diluted the unusual smell of expensive perfume.
- I wanted to meet your family.
- There is no one at home. Mom hasn't come home from work yet, although she usually finishes...
Igor stopped. He didn’t want to reveal his mother’s profession, but decided not to prevaricate:
- ...cleaning by 12. Should come.
- Okay, we have about an hour left. We'll wait a little and go to school. I know what your mom does. What about your sister?
- She's at the university almost all day. Let's go to the hall. You can sit there.
- Do you have three rooms?
- Yes.
- And how did you separate them?
- My sister and I share a room. Mom is sleeping in the living room on the sofa.
“Well, yes,” answered Galina Aleksandrovna, “sofa, kitchen, work...
Igor understood the guest’s slightly mocking tone. He began to explain:
- They used to sleep in the same room. Then mom left...
- Show me your room.
They haven't entered the hall yet.
- I have there...
“Well, okay,” the teacher smiled, “I was a student not so long ago.” We probably won't wait. Go, get ready and let's go.
Igor turned in the direction of his room, but suddenly stopped:
- This is only your second year of work? Right after school?
- Yes.
- And we are seven years apart?
“Exact mathematical calculation,” the teacher grinned. - You go, get ready.
-Are you married?
- I? – Galina Aleksandrovna laughed. – Why do you need this, Privalov?
“There is a difference,” he said. - I love you.
- How do you like it?
- Like a woman.
- Where are the flowers, the appropriate setting? And there shouldn’t be anything between us!
It was clear that Galina Aleksandrovna was trying to keep the situation under control with a joking tone and words.
- But it exists!
- I don’t know what’s on your part, but I don’t think it’s love. I like you as a student.
- That's all?
- Yes, probably.
- Can I check this?
- How?
Igor quickly stepped towards the girl, hugged her, pulled her face towards him and pressed his lips to hers.
At first there was inaction. Igor felt a slight chill. But suddenly Galina Alexandrovna’s lips trembled, and she opened them slightly. Igor and the teacher joined in a deep kiss.
When it ended, both pulled away from each other in amazement and Galina Aleksandrovna turned away.
- All this is wrong, you should not have provoked me into this.
She turned to Igor, looked at him intently and silently walked into the hallway.
Igor spread his arms, blocking her path:
- Galina, wait.
He hugged her again and the girl could not stand it and gave in to this kiss.
They didn’t immediately realize how they ended up in Igor’s room and began to frantically undress.
After a while, Galina Alexandrovna lay on Igor’s shoulder:
- I fell in love with you at first sight. But I struggled and, it seems, you pulled away from me...
- Yes, I tried to overcome my feelings and left for the summer. There I had my first girlfriend. But I feel absolutely nothing for her...
“Oh, you scoundrel,” Galina Aleksandrovna raised her head. – Although, maybe this is correct. I once also tested myself with one student. But you're just a boy! Oh, what time is it?
- Half!
They jumped off and began to quickly get dressed.
“You smell amazing, my love,” Igor shouted, pulling on his clothes.
- And you are innocent and pure! I love you!
- Don’t give me A’s, I’ll study everything, but don’t single me out!
- I will give you A's because you are the best in the class.
- I don’t want to let you down, I won’t look at you!
- Look at me, I can’t live without this...
At this time, the sound of a key being inserted into the door lock was heard. But the young people were ready, and Galina Alexandrovna had already covered herself with her cloak...
Igor’s mother came in.
- Who are you? – she asked Galina Alexandrovna.
- Teacher... I’ll wait for a minute, I wanted to wait for you, but I have to hurry.
“You should have called me,” my mother answered, “I went into the store.” Here, Igor, put it in the kitchen.
The son grabbed his mother's bag.
- What happened? – Mom quietly asked the teacher.
- Nothing special. You have it good student. I wanted to thank you... Your son is helping me well.
- I’m glad, it’s a pity my father didn’t live long... They killed him, he stood up for a woman in a dark passage.
- Tell me later. I'll definitely come by. But we have to run.

In July, Igor and Galina got married.
Galina went to another school, Igor entered the pedagogical university, the same occulist ruined his career as an officer. A year later, Igor was drafted into the army. That same year he had twins and a few months later he was legally released into civilian life. He continued to study and was already taking lessons at school with his wife.

When I was a 10th grade student, at our school there appeared new teacher German language. He was young and handsome. He was a charming, blue-eyed, blond man of twenty-three years old. From the first day of his appearance at school, all the middle and high school students ran past his office during breaks to take another look at him. Dmitry Evgenievich (that was the teacher’s name) was clearly flattered by such attention and it was noticeable. Also, he was not deprived of the care and attention of young teachers who simply did not give him a pass.

I, like most of the girls from our school, was in love with him. I went to all his lessons regularly and always completed homework. However, unlike the others, I was a modest girl. My classmates openly flirted with the teacher and showed their interest in every possible way. I just carefully selected outfits and conscientiously studied what was assigned before each lesson. But during the classes themselves, I was terribly embarrassed, although I tried to hide it, my heart was jumping out of my chest and my knees were shaking. The teacher, apparently, noticed this and constantly called me to the board. Fortunately, he always assessed my efforts as “excellent.”

Throughout the school year, thoughts about the young teacher haunted me, I even dreamed about him and seemed to be in almost everyone I met. It got to the point where it wasn’t enough for me to see him at school. I found out where he lived and walked near his house every day. Sometimes happiness smiled at me and I met him; in such cases, a conversation began between us about studying and we parted ways. If I met him in a company of girls, then I would go crazy with jealousy.

In the eleventh grade, a tragedy occurred - Dmitry Evgenievich quit. I suffered greatly, often wandered around his house, but I was not able to see him. But the time has come for me to prepare for entering college and I signed up for preparatory courses. At the very first lesson, a surprise awaited me - Dmitry Evgenievich taught German in the sub-courses. I was incredibly glad that I had the opportunity to see him again. During my studies (about six months), we can say that I became Dmitry Evgenievich’s favorite student. And somehow it turned out that by the end of the course many students got sick and a couple of times I studied individually. These two classes were enough for me to get a little closer to the teacher. The fact is that he was interested in my affairs, talked about himself and then offered to take me home. Then it became a habit and Dmitry Evgenievich began to accompany me constantly. I simply lost my head with happiness - he seemed to me the most handsome, the smartest, and so on. I drowned in his bottomless blue eyes and caught his every word. After a while, we began to meet more often - we walked in the park on weekends, went to the cinema, to a cafe. I still remember our first kiss, when the ground seemed to disappear from under my feet.

For me, a 17-year-old girl, it was happiness that my teacher paid attention to me. However, it so happened that Dmitry was offered a job in the USA and he needed to leave for a while. It was very difficult for me to part with him, but I hoped that he would return soon. At first we corresponded, and then I moved, entered another institute and our connection was interrupted. 8 years have passed since then and I only occasionally thought about my affair with my teacher. But one day I accidentally found it in one of the social networks and we agreed to meet. Before our date, I was very worried, because for me he remained the same ideal man. But when I met, I no longer saw the person I remembered. Dmitry gained a little weight, bald spots appeared, his eyes no longer seemed so blue, and his jokes were not so funny. We chatted all evening, but I already understood that I no longer felt the feelings that I had. After all, I’m no longer that student who hangs on his every word. I was pleased to talk with wonderful person from my youth. But after our meeting, I realized that my ideal Dmitry Evgenievich remained in those distant school years. Time passes, we grow up, forget about our past loves, become less romantic and more rational.

What if this is (not) love?

A C in biology is not a reason to break off a relationship.

The shrill beeping of the alarm clock pulls me out of the embrace of sleep. Half past six. I don't want to get up! To prevent the anticipation of a hard day at work from turning life into hard labor, you urgently need to think about something good.
About the good? No, about beauty! What else can you think about if she exists in the world? And today I will see her again. My Anya, Anya, Anyuta!

Chapter one, large

She came into my life suddenly, how unexpected it can be on the very first day of a new academic year. It was like being struck by lightning to suddenly see a goddess walking down the school corridor. It’s a strange thing, for some reason few people paid attention to her, everyone was busy with some little things - how to find their office and stuff like that. I was the only one who thought that the school immediately became brighter. And it seems even warmer - isn’t it because the adrenaline made the heart pound, filling the face with color. If she had turned to me right now with any question, I would still have stood there like a statue, fascinated by looking into her blue eyes and not being able to utter a word. But she walked past in the company of her new classmates without even looking at me.

Has this ever happened to you? I don’t want to throw around words about love at first sight, but at that moment I suddenly thought that maybe it really exists in the world. After all, this day immediately divided life into before and after.

So, I'm her biology teacher. This is a huge success and at the same time a major problem. What line of behavior should you choose so as not to give away your feelings in any way, so that none of your students and colleagues will guess what is really going on in your soul?
If I change something in my behavior, it will immediately catch everyone’s eyes - they’ve gotten to know me too well here. And if you start showing even insignificant signs of attention to the object of my adoration, they will figure it out in a moment. Because I myself created the image of an impassive teacher, whose feelings are completely subordinated to reason, and whose heart does not belong to anyone. This came in handy in the first years of work, everyone has already come to terms with it, and this status quo suits me quite well. More precisely, he arranged it - until last moment. Maybe it’s worth changing, for example, becoming more kind, kind and affectionate with everyone, so that against the general background it is impossible to distinguish any individual sympathies? But am I capable of this? And am I enough for this? And will they understand?

No, you don't need to change your behavior. It is much easier to hide your feelings deep inside. Become hard and dry. And with her too! But, as the ancients said, amor tussisque non celatur, love and cough cannot be hidden. And yet I will try.

Here she is sitting on the first desk directly opposite me. An ideal profile, a slender figure, especially standing out against the backdrop of my tenth graders hunched over and drooping under their desks. Long curly blond hair falls over her shoulders, touching the notebooks laid out in front of her. Her eyes are downcast, her ruby ​​lips move slightly, repeating her homework to herself. Long fingers with an impeccable manicure lightly touch the velvet peach cheek. Enough! Let's start the lesson. But first, the results of the written work. Skomorokhov - “two”, Kudinova - “five”, Pasechnik... (a treacherous hoarseness breaks through his voice) ...Pasechnik - “three”...

I see how upset she is. What can you do if the work is written with a C grade? Yes, at that school you were an excellent student. So what? I have the same requirements for everyone, without concessions, any student knows this. Are you saying how you can correct this assessment?

I suddenly imagine her coming after class and sitting down in front of me. I ask her, she answers. There is no one in the class except us...

No, you shouldn't even think about it. After all, I will probably ask too many unnecessary questions and in the end I will prove to her that a C is her well-deserved rating. After all, don’t increase points for personal charm! You know what, Anya, write an essay on this topic, I will check and find out whether you really mastered this topic “excellently”.

I know everything about her that a teacher could know. Her phone number, address, birthday, parents' place of work.

Sometimes I go outside in the evenings and dial her phone number. Yes, you could call from home, but what if they have a phone with caller ID? Her father almost always answers the phone. Only once did Anya answer in the voice of a silver bell. And the receiver was put back in its place, although with some delay. What can I say? Why is the teacher calling about something? But then you will have to not limit yourself to one call, but come up with a new reason every time. No, you don't need to go on thin ice, especially if you don't know how to swim. What am I to her? Just a teacher! But what is she to me? She is half my age and the one I try with all my might to treat as my student, nothing more! Is there even a more or less decent prospect for our relationship? It’s time for my feelings to smolder, and for hers to bloom.

She must surely have many worthy admirers. At her age, school romances are a fairly common thing. Love letters, midnight walks, modest kisses at the entrance and shamelessly frank ones at school discos... However, until now I have not seen her with anyone. It’s a strange and rather contradictory feeling: on the one hand, I’m pleased with this, but on the other hand, it would be better the other way around. At least there would be a good reason to try to look at things soberly. I have already re-read Nabokov’s “Lolita” and once again became imbued with the tragedy of poor Humbert Humbert. You need to re-read Ovid's "Medicine for Love" again. To force yourself to stop loving someone, you need to find something negative in your object and try to see only that. But here’s the problem: Anya is ideal and flawless. Except this C grade in biology. Why not be offended?

But if this is love, then it is criminal to kill it in yourself. Love should create, ennoble, elevate. Sometimes, however, you don’t feel it, especially when you need to prepare for classes, and all thoughts are only about her, and nothing else comes into your head. The simplest thing is to say: you need to force yourself to love her as an ordinary person, and everyone as her alone, you need to cultivate and cherish agape in your heart, not eros. But try it yourself! Such advice is usually given by those who have never experienced anything like this. So, it means that I am sinful only because I fell in love, like a boy, with my student and cannot bring myself to get her out of my head? No, I don't want to feel like a sinner!!! It’s enough to imagine yourself as a pedagogical creature of the middle sex with a heart inspired by ideas about sublime feelings. “Am I a trembling creature or do I have the right?”

Today is Valentine's Day. Valentine's Day, which means it's my day. Today I will write her a Valentine's card, where I confess everything. But is it possible to convey this in words? And who will benefit from this? And will it happen? For me, no, because there is no way out of this impasse. Even more so for her, because she is still too young to understand my feelings.
No. I won't tell her anything. You need to pass the test of falling in love. In a year, my (my?) Anyuta will leave school for a big life and for some reason it seems to me that I will never see her again. Yes, that would be better.
I will definitely name my daughter Anya. She will be as beautiful as Anechka Pasechnik. Who will never know about my feelings.

Chapter two, small

Konstantin Fedorovich, can I see you for a minute,” Yulia, with her eyes downcast and frantically grasping her briefcase with both hands, waits for the last student to leave the class. - Could you answer one question...

I wonder what this news is? Probably, again some tricky question from the preparatory course for medical school.

Please, just promise not to laugh or be offended. Konstantin Fedorovich... Could you now, at your age and marital status, love someone other than your wife?

I feel the color flooding my face. Had they really figured me out, had I screwed up somewhere and everyone knew about my relationship with Anya? We need to come up with something urgently!

And only then does the true meaning of her question finally dawn on me.

You see, Julia, everything in this world has its own purpose and purpose. - I try to speak very kindly so as not to offend her. - And the relationship between a man and a woman too. What you are talking about has no future and therefore makes no sense. The most idiotic answer in this situation is “let’s remain just friends.” Idiot because friendship can develop into love, but vice versa - never. And then, you need to distinguish love from being in love...

Once upon a time I was asked a similar question: “What will you do if your student confesses his love to you?” Then I replied that I would consider such a situation my defeat. Not because a teacher cannot be loved at all. No, it’s just that if I allowed such a development of events, it means I gave an unreasonable reason and false hope. And this is cruel. It is better not to let the student come to a dangerous distance; this will save him from disappointment, and you from remorse for breaking someone’s heart.

How much we talk about our feelings and how little we think about others...

When I was at school, in the eighth grade, I managed to break my right leg. The point is not which one, but that my broken leg helped me fall in love.

Intrigued? Oh, how I understand you now...

I experienced this a long time ago. About five or six years ago, so I’m not so scared to remember the past. In general, due to the injury, I was assigned “home-based” training until the plaster was removed. I wasn’t very upset, since I was interested in “seeing” how training takes place within the walls of an apartment.

To be honest, I liked it. And you can eat normally, and you don’t have to run around the corridors and offices. There were many advantages to such study. It’s a pity that they didn’t cancel all my least favorite subjects.

I didn’t like exact sciences: mathematics, chemistry, physics. The theoretical part is all right. But the puzzles are simply a mortal test. I won’t say that I was an excellent student, but I studied very well. Many teachers even praised me (not in the exact sciences).

One Thursday, suddenly, I was told to wait for a new chemistry teacher, because the previous teacher went on maternity leave. My mind immediately conjured up the image of an old man with glasses. And he came - a young, interesting and handsome man. Seven years older than me.

I fell in love with him immediately...

She was numb even for about five minutes when he entered. I started studying chemistry. Then - understand what I teach. At first I was surprised, then I got used to it. I loved chemistry! And not only her... Nikolai Valerievich stole the heart from my chest. Of course, I didn’t feel sorry for giving it to such a person, but I didn’t want to be hurt by “non-reciprocity.”

In general, I wouldn’t say that I’m ugly. My age, it seemed to me, would have a greater impact on the relationship. It’s impossible to explain that age is just numbers. I realized that the teacher would think that there should be no romance between a student and a teacher. But I dreamed of breaking all the stereotypes in the world in order to be with him.

What to do? Let's move on. . .

My love came unexpectedly. And my leg stopped hurting, everything stopped hurting. I only thought about the teacher, about meeting him. In my dreams, I often imagined that, instead of a chemistry lesson, we had a . But when I thought about it, all my memory “went away” against educational process. Mom noticed the changes. Dad too. But they were silent about their guesses until a certain time. Once, while finishing my last week of studying at home, I received two points in Russian. That's when my parents became alarmed. They were so horrified that they wanted to tear up the diary. I wouldn't be upset if they did that. But they acted differently: they punished me to the fullest. But before the punishment, an open (in the sense of frankness) conversation took place, in which dad and mom accused me of doing nonsense and being lazy. And they said about my love right to my face. I felt so embarrassed. But - first.

Mom made sure that I no longer had the last home-based “chemistry” lesson. And crying didn't save me. They, in turn, seriously screwed me over. I just made my eyes red in vain. I came to school. I was told that Nikolai Valerievich no longer works where I study. The sobs repeated.

As soon as I found out about this, I left school, skipping four whole lessons. And I didn’t think that they would give me truancy. There was no time for studying...

I haven’t seen my beloved for four years...

And so, unexpectedly, I came to work in the same company where he was deputy general director! Hysterical laughter overcame me when I saw him. I realized that all the feelings were gone. We are best friends. And what surprised me was that he asked me to become the godmother of his two children. Well, why should I refuse if I can agree?

I agreed, now I’m friends with his wife too

I'm not going to get married. At least for now. I have other plans for my life. First - career growth, then - family. And let everyone who deems it appropriate condemn me for this. What people think and say is their right. I live only the way I want. I don’t look at others, I don’t copy their lifestyle, I don’t create illusions. I live as I please. And this, in my opinion, is correct, it seems to me.

Kolya is a good person. But I don’t understand how I could fall in love with him so much? How many times have I asked myself questions about how to live without him, what to do, and so on. Now it's funny. I see that these are not my type of men. My eyes used to see the world with different eyes. A different “vision” of the world distorted my idea of ​​a chemistry teacher.

I like to remember the past...

Not everything, but only some specific moments. There is warmth, comfort, harmony in the soul. This is how it should be in theory. For everyone, always and in everything. But! It doesn't happen. In some ways, one way or another, “goofs” happen. We see him often. We talk for a long time. We remember my broken leg, which, thank God, healed as it should. Let's remember school. By the way, he was uncomfortable with the school I attended. He said that something was not completed in it. And he himself doesn’t know what. And he won't know until he builds his own school.

And in chemistry my certificate says “excellent”. It's not clear how this happened. Maybe Nikolai made a fuss. But I don't like dishonesty. And I know that my knowledge of chemistry is “satisfactory.” Especially all kinds of formulas.

In my next life I will also go to work as a chemistry teacher. Someone fall in love with me. And I can repeat wonderful story love that united two people with friendly ties...

Switch things up. . .

How to confess your love? -

Hello! I'm Diana Morientes, science fiction writer. What else, if not science fiction, can you call “Favorite Student” - the love story of a little girl and school teacher physicists? Let me tell you everything in order.

At twelve years old I fell in love with a teacher. Actually, it wasn’t just me - there were half of us in the school. Maxim Viktorovich (the name has been changed for purposes and is fabulously handsome - a kind of angel lost in school: a cheerful blue-eyed blond with shoulder-length hair and dimples on his cheeks that appeared when he smiled, looking at us, little seventh-graders. He treated our sympathies condescendingly : allowed himself to be entertained during breaks, graciously accepted offerings in the form of love notes, generously gave good grades. As I already said, there were half of us in the school: some patiently ran after the physicist until the Graduation Evening, and some gave up their place in the retinue. teacher to the younger generations. Against my will, I found myself among the most faithful.

At fourteen, apparently under the influence of puberty, I confessed my love to him. Personally, eye to eye. It was a rash step on my part, but I was always in good relations with the teachers, and it turned my head. I was confident in his understanding, and although I was not mistaken, I regretted my courage: it did not lead to anything, except that I became unbearably ashamed to look him in the eyes in class.

In peace and quiet, I drew a wall newspaper in the staff room after school. He went in to hang the key to his office in his locker, and we, left alone for almost the first time in our lives, had a heart-to-heart talk. No, not about him and me! About my problems with my parents. Since then he has become my adult and wise friend.

Being a dreamer, I constantly dreamed of how our relationship with him could develop. I grew up, the boys liked me and I regretted that none of them could compete with my idol. Dreams about Him gradually turned from pages personal diary into a light fiction text: the result is a small fairy tale about how a schoolgirl managed to win the heart of a teacher. I made up names, thinking that no one would guess...

He read this fairy tale. After passing my final exams in the eleventh grade, I printed out a copy on the computer especially for Him. I had to gather all my recklessness together to dare to present him with this “abstract.” He smiled, looking at the volume of paper, and said: “Don’t forget to live in real world Same!"

I didn't think he would read this so soon! I didn’t even think that he would read this!!! On Graduation party he invited me to slow dance (himself!!! I was in heaven!!!) and expressed his opinion about my writing... He praised me. I was expecting the words: “Well, you understand, this is a fairy tale, and it doesn’t happen like that,” but I heard: “You write well. Continue!" I thought that this story was light, casual chatter, but he said that it was “a novel with elements practical psychology"! Over all these years, I got used to living in a permanent state of unrequited love, but now I didn’t want to put up with this state! These three minutes of dancing changed everything in me with one step. He held me by the waist, pedagogically not pressing his body against me, and my hands on his shoulders trembled treacherously. All I wanted was to kiss him, but, firstly, I understood that he would pull away, and secondly, I had never been kissed before.

And with him - never once in my life.

Our communication with him logically stopped right after I graduated from school. I entered the university and got caught up in the whirlwind of an entertaining student life: KVN, cafes, hikes, sessions... I got a job at a prestigious and interesting work, and this added maturity to me in the eyes of others. I realized that I was interested in people, their stories, their thoughts, their lives. Sometimes, rummaging through the archives of someone’s memory, I found such amazing files that, without hesitation, I copied my own into the next clean copy life experience. I tried to live with a man older than me, then exchanged one serious relationship for another, and then fell in love at first sight with a handsome volleyball player. It turned out that this best man on the planet, and sex can lead to an ideal, lasting marriage. We have been married for five years and during all this time we have never quarreled. The brilliant teacher Maxim Viktorovich taught me how to get along with people back in my teenage years, and appreciating this only now, I remembered a sweet fairy tale about Him...

The title “Favorite Student” suddenly struck new notes for me. Maxim - main character- really Natasha’s teacher. Only he teaches her not physics, but life.

To begin with, the “happy ending” invented in my youth was followed by real events: the complexities of a serious relationship - with problems, scandals, pain and conclusions. Then main character graduated from school, and the “fairy tale” turned into a completely realistic picture: a man and a woman with a noticeable age difference. She is still young and is just beginning to feel the taste of life, but he has already had his fill and wants a calm family home... He raises her out of habit, but she (with his help!) turns into an independent person...

Two strong, stubborn characters, calculated with mathematical precision, logically thought out storyline- There are no random little things in this book.

Get ready for some drama, because as you get to know Maxim and Natasha better and better, you will feel everything they feel. You will live with them ten years of their life, be in bed with them, meet their friends, get carried away by their careers, fully enjoy the beauty of a luxurious resort on the Black Sea coast of the Caucasus...

Are you ready to be in Sochi?