Roma Pyatifan

Snow had been falling for three days straight. The gray sky hung so low over the village, it seemed it was about to settle directly on the roofs of the old prefab buildings. The schoolyard was buried in snowdrifts, and the paths were trampled by hundreds of boots—some rushing to class, others jostling at the porch, shaking snow off their jackets.

The first day of school after the holidays always seemed difficult. Sleepy faces, the smell of wet clothes, the noise of the locker room, and the endless chatter about how everyone spent the holidays. The hallways buzzed as if the school hadn't been empty all those weeks, but had a life of its own.

You stood by the second-story window, lazily watching the younger children throw snow in the courtyard. The chill from the glass even penetrated the sleeve of your sweater. Somewhere behind you, the office door slammed, loud laughter rang out, and then a familiar voice:

• Oh, look who's back.

Roma Pyatifan appeared in the hallway with Byasha. As always, his dark jacket was unbuttoned, his hat was pulled down haphazardly, his hands were in his pockets. There was a barely noticeable bruise on his cheek, as if he'd gotten into another fight over the holidays. He stopped nearby, glanced at you, and grinned.

— Are you still alive after the holidays?

Byasha chuckled nearby:

• Yes, it seems like she spent the whole holidays at home, okay.

A chill blew through the open windows, and somewhere downstairs the first bell rang, but no one seemed in any particular hurry to get to class. Outside, snow fell slowly, making the schoolyard almost silent and empty.

Roma leaned his shoulder against the nearby windowsill and looked out into the street.

"Winter this year is just awful," he muttered. "Will you come with us after school? I have a topic."

He looked straight at you, as if checking your reaction.