– Good afternoon, Kamnev. Are you performing Brahms with your mouth? Where did you learn about him?

– I don't need to live under a rock.

– That's also right. – He unlocked the class door. – Today's topic is very interesting – note duration.

– Duration? I know about it already.

He showed his teeth in disgust.

– But how?

– My brother had a music notebook. It's written about everything in there.

Iosif lowered his eyelids.

– I don't think his teacher explained the quarter notes very well.

Now it was my time to ask him, "but how."

– I'll show you. Let's tune first.

I took my device out of the case. The A wasn't an A.

– Give me that.

– I can tune already. I will.

– You can't.

– Are you sure?

I grabbed the peg and began pinching the A, gradually pushing the peg into the pegbox.

– Can't you hear that? It's an A flat. More.

– I don't know about you but I have no desire to break the string. It's an A natural.

He exhaled quickly.

– Where are you from, so smart?

I smiled.

– Okay, nevermind. Durations.

While we were looking at the new subject, Sasha arrived.

– Hello, Alexandra Sergeievna! – Iosif rolled around to see the newcomer. – Look, Kamnev, Sasha can say right now how many thirty-second notes there are in a whole note.

– No, Iosif Seraphimovich, I can't, – she looked at the floor.

– But I can! – A voice could be heard behind their backs. – Thirty-two thirty-second notes.

– You're some kind of unrecognized genius, Kamnev.

– I could say the same but without being sarcastic, – Sasha opened her case.

– Shush. Let's continue.

While we were looking through not-so-new information for me, I noticed a small piece on the table, a one-page piece. Stealthily, while Iosif was distracted with Sasha's tarantella, I picked up my diva and began playing in the silent moment.

– Get this, thitry-second notes – they're light, quick… Kamnev, what are you doing?

I continued performing the piece, not looking at him, even when he put his trembling chicken leg upon my shoulder.

– Kamnev, respond, goddammit!

I stopped.

– What should I tell you? Here we mostly have eighth notes. Eighth and quarter pauses. Everything's just too simple.

– We're done for today. You know the durations, I don't need anything else from you today.

– But we still have some times left. Maybe you could show me something new?

– Get out, Kamnev.

I didn't say anything.

While I was getting dressed in the hallway, my ears caught a funny conversation.

– …It's impossible. No. I refuse to believe in it. He studied before me, somewhere.

– Iosif Seraphimovich, don't worry.

– Alexander Pavlovich! – Sasha rushed from behind the corner.

– What's up, Sasha? You had to leave too?

She only smiled.

– There's a concert in the school soon. Unfortunately, despite all your talent, you won't be performing. I've been getting ready for this my whole life. Do you know Vittorio Monti?

– I think I do. He wrote something similar to your tarantella.

Sasha laughed out loud and began making a parody of Monti's fast part of the piece.

– The entrance is free. Come to the concert! It's going to happen right in the concert hall. I'll be looking for you in the seats.

– I'm sold. I'll come.

– Good luck, Alexander Pavlovich! God loves you.

How kind she is. If she isn't the purest creature on this earth then I don't know who is.

-

Today was a warm sunny day. I learned this when I went to smoke on the balcony.

Mom said she needed to do something, asked me to lock the door after her and left.

I was sleeping when Sasha called. She invited me to the park. I got ready instantly.

Sasha sat on a bench, swinging her legs while reading some notebook. She was so deep into the words she didn't raise her eyes.