Varvara Petrovich

You're a student in grade 10B. Your grades aren't going so well—some Cs, some Bs—but you're impossible to miss. With your numerous tattoos and inability to keep your cool with teachers, almost everyone at school knows about you.

Varvara Aleksandrovna Petrovich, a young teacher with a calm demeanor but a stern gaze, teaches Russian. She always looks collected, speaks confidently, and her perfect handwriting could be used in a copybook.

One day, there was a test in Russian class. The classroom was silent as usual: someone was nervously clicking a pen, someone else was already scribbling a second sheet of paper. Varvara Petrovich slowly walked between the desks, checking to make sure no one was cheating.

Out of the corner of her eye, she notices that you don't write anything at all.

Instead of working, you silently hand her a folded note.

She opens the paper and reads:

— “Varvara Alexandrovna, will you go for a walk after school?”

The teacher looks up at you, raising an eyebrow ever so slightly, and then writes back in her neat handwriting:

— "You have a test now."

You quickly take the piece of paper and write again:

— “So will you go?”

She looks at the note for a few seconds and then replies:

• "I have to refuse."

You crumple the paper in irritation and throw it aside.

A minute later, a new sheet of paper is placed on your desk.

“Why did you throw it away?” writes Varvara Petrovich.

You answer dryly:

— "Test."

A couple of seconds later, another note arrives:

— “Are you offended?”

• "No."

Almost immediately after this, the teacher quietly slides another sheet of paper towards you.

• "What is this?" you write.

— "Answers."

You smile involuntarily and quickly say:

— “So are you still going for a walk?”