Then I fancied there was somebody in the corner breathing hard. I
looked round and saw Romashka. I don't know what made him breathe
so hard, but he had a very ugly look on his face. Naturally, he saw at
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once that we had spotted him. He muttered something and came up
with a queasy smile.
"Why don't you introduce me, Grigoriev?"
I stood up. I must have looked anything but affable, because he
blinked in a scared sort of way and went out. It was rather funny, the
way he took sudden fright. We both started giggling, and Katya said that
he not only resembled Uriah Heep, but he was like an owl, a ginger owl
with a hook-nose and round eyes. She had guessed right— Romashka
was sometimes teased at school by being called Owl. We went back into
the hall.
The dancing was over and the concert part of the programme had
started with scenes from The Government Inspector, which our theatre
was rehearsing.
Katya and I sat together in the third row, but we heard nothing. At
least, I didn't. And I don't think she did either. I whispered to her:
"We'll have another talk. Yes?"
She looked at me gravely and nodded.
CHAPTER NINE
MY FIRST DATE. INSOMNIA
It wasn't the first time it happened with me that life, after moving in
one direction—in a straight line, let's say—suddenly made a sharp turn,
executing "Immelmanns" and "Barrels". (Figures in aerobatics).
This happened when, a boy of eight, I had lost my penknife near the
murdered watchman on the pontoon bridge. This happened at the
Education Department's reception centre, when, out of sheer boredom,
I had begun to model figure-work. This happened when I found myself a
reluctant witness to the conspiracy against Korablev and was
ignominiously ejected from the Tatarinov home. And this is what
happened now, when I was expelled again-this time for good!
The new turn in my life started this way. Katya and I had arranged to
meet in Oruzheiny Street, outside the tinsmith's shop, but she did not
turn up.
Everything seemed to have gone wrong that sad day. I ran away from
the sixth lesson-it was silly, because Likho had said he would give back
our homework after the lesson. I wanted to think over our conversation.
But how could I think when, after a few minutes, I was frozen stiff and
all I could do was stamp my feet and rub my nose and ears like mad.
Yet it was all devilishly interesting! What an extraordinary change had
come about since the previous day! Yesterday, for instance, I could say:
"Katya's a stupid head!" But not today. Yesterday I could have ticked her
off for being late, but not today. But most interesting of all was to think
that this was the very same Katya who had once asked me whether I had
read Helen Robinson, who had busted the lactometer and got it in the
neck from me. Could this be her?
"Yes!" I thought joyfully.
But she was not she now, and I was not I.
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A whole hour had passed, though. It was quiet in that street, and only
the small tinsmith with the big nose came out of his workshop several
times and eyed me suspiciously. I turned my back on him, but this only
seemed to deepen his suspicions. I crossed to the other side of the road,
but he still stood in the doorway amid clouds of vapour, like God on the
ceiling of the cathedral at Ensk. I was obliged to move away, down
towards the Tverskaya.
They had had dinner by the time I got back to the school. I went into
the kitchen to warm myself and got told off by the cook, who gave me a
plate of lukewarm potatoes. I ate the potatoes and went off in search of
Valya. But Valya was at the Zoo. Likho had given my homework to
Romashka.
Being upset, I did not notice the state of excitement Romashka was
thrown into when he saw me. He went all of a dither when I came into
the library where we were in the habit of doing our homework. He
laughed several times without apparent reason and hastily handed me
my homework.
" 'Old Moke' at it again," he said ingratiatingly. "If I were you, I'd
complain."
I thumbed through my work. Down the side of every page was drawn
a red line and at the bottom it was written: "Idealism. Extremely poor."
"Fathead," I commented coolly and walked out. Romashka came
running after me. I was surprised at the way he fawned on me that day,
running ahead of me and peering into my face. I suppose he was glad
that I had done so badly with my homework. The real reason for this
behaviour never occurred to me.
I was in bed before the boys had returned from their excursion. I
really should not have gone to bed so early. Sleep fled my eyes the
moment I shut them and turned over on my side.
It was the first case of insomnia in my life. I lay very still, thinking.
About what? About everything under the sun, I believe. About Korablev
and how I would take my homework to him tomorrow and ask him to
read it. About the tinsmith who had taken me for a thief. About Katya's
father's booklet Causes of the Failure of the Greely Expedition.
But whatever my thoughts, they always came back to her. I began to
doze, and all of a sudden found myself thinking of her with such
tenderness that it took my breath away and my heart started beating
slowly and loudly. I saw her more distinctly than if she had been at my
side. I could feel the touch of her hand on my eyes.
"Ah, well, if you've fallen in love, you've fallen in love. Now let's get
some sleep, my dear chap," I said to myself.
But now that I was feeling so happy I thought it a pity to go to sleep,
though I did feel a bit sleepy. I fell asleep when day began to break and
Uncle Petya in the kitchen started grumbling at Makhmet, our kitten.
CHAPTER TEN
TROUBLES
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The first date and first insomnia, though something new, were still
part of the good old life. The troubles started the next day, however.
I phoned Katya after breakfast, but had no luck. Nikolai Antonich
answered the phone.
"Who wants her?"
"A friend."
"What friend?" I was silent.
"Well?"
I hung up.
At eleven I entrenched myself in a greengrocer's shop from which I
could see the whole length of Tverskaya-Yamskaya. Nobody took me for
a thief this time. I pretended to be using the phone, bought some
pickled apples and hung around the doorway with a casual air. I was
waiting for Nina Kapitonovna. I knew from previous years exactly when
she returned from the market. At last she appeared small, bent, in her
green velvet coat, carrying her umbrella—in such a frost'-and the
invariable shopping bag.
"Nina Kapitonovna!"
She glanced at me coldly and walked on without saying a word. I was
dumbfounded.
"Nina Kapitonovna!"
She set her bag down, straightened up and looked at me resentfully.
"Look here, young man," she said sternly, "I shouldn't like to quarrel
with you for old time's sake. But don't let me see or hear you any more."
Her head shook slightly.
"You go this way, we go that! And no writing or phoning, please! I