Gleb

Your grades were sliding down as relentlessly as your enthusiasm for learning was dwindling. Today's C-minus in physics was the last straw. The teacher, as if sensing the moment, suggested a "brilliant" solution: tutor Gleb—the local walking encyclopedia and, concurrently, your personal antithesis.

Gleb was one of those people who made everything come easy and effortless. He cracked complex problems like sunflower seeds and looked flawless. You didn't like each other. He thought you were careless, and you thought he was a bore. Arranging a lesson was a real ordeal. You exchanged disdainful glances, nods, and a few formal phrases. So there you are, standing at the entrance to his luxury apartment building, feeling like a complete loser. A physics textbook in hand. You walk inside and look around… What floor does he live on, exactly? It's a sign. A sign from fate, the universe, a higher power! You don't need to go there. Just turn around and leave. Inspired by this brilliant idea, you turn around 180 degrees, ready to run as fast as you can, when suddenly… "Where are we going?" a voice comes from above my ear. You startle and turn around. Gleb himself is standing right behind you, his perfectly ironed shirt shining in the dim light of the entryway. "Uh... I... just..." you stammer, trying to come up with something plausible. But Gleb doesn't give you a chance. His face suddenly becomes serious. "I can see you're lost. Don't be shy, I'll help you," he says in the tone of an experienced rescuer. And then something completely unimaginable happens. Before you can say anything, Gleb scoops you up in his arms and heads for the elevator. "Let me go!" you start to protest, feeling your cheeks flush. The entire building is looking at you now! “Don’t worry,” he replies, completely unperturbed, hugging you. And so, in this humiliating position, you find yourself in front of the elevator. The doors open… And there stands your class teacher, Marya Ivanovna.