"And what about your school scholarship? You got into our gymnasium precisely because you earned it."
"Unlike me," I added honestly, never having hidden the fact that my place there was my father's doing. If it weren't for him, I would have finished an ordinary school with a standard curriculum. In Xertonia, though—despite the whole hospital incident—I managed to prepare well for my final exams and score high enough to compete for a state-funded place at the local institute. Had I stayed in Rostov, I doubt I would have achieved the same results. Still, the price I paid for the move was unimaginably high. The obligations now weighing on my shoulders would stay with me for the rest of my life. There was nothing anyone could do to change that.
Transferring to another school after tenth grade, with exams looming, is no easy task—one that's notoriously hard to pull off. The only real alternative is homeschooling, provided you're disciplined enough and know how to search for the right materials online. I'd read that for some people this format works even better: the internet is full of videos explaining the same topic in different ways. All you have to do is find a lecturer who suits you, and everything clicks. Still, I was wary of that path. I tended to get lost in my own thoughts too easily. I focused much better sitting in a classroom with other students than lying on my bed at home in pajamas.
"The school gave you a place, not the scholarship itself," Dasha added. "I don't see anything terrible about that. Technically, you're not taking anyone else's scholarship spot."
"Dasha, that's a double standard," Viola said, ruffling her friend's cap. "You're fine with me applying straight to paid tuition because I can afford it, but the moment Asya's father helped her get into the gymnasium, suddenly there's nothing wrong with it."
"That's different!"
"Not at all. I don't want to take someone else's place either."
"But your father would praise you! He'd see that you're smart."
"Is that why you're trying so hard? The competitions, the scholarship—just so your parents will praise you?"
"Of course not," Dasha protested loudly, her eyes turning sad. "My family just doesn't have the money."
"But you do have ambition," Viola observed, watching her for a moment before giving a dissatisfied snort. "I just hope you're doing this for yourself, not to impress someone else."
"Oh, if I wanted to impress my parents, I would've introduced them to my boyfriend a long time ago."
"Hold on—back up a little," I cut in, because getting anything out of Dasha about the mysterious university student she'd started dating last year was usually impossible. "When are we finally going to meet him?"
Dasha immediately broke into a smile, unable to hide her feelings, and dropped her gaze shyly to the ground. She clasped her hands behind her back, suddenly stepped around me to face me, and continued walking backward along the path.
"At prom," she said, then added conspiratorially, lowering her voice, "or maybe even today."
Viola blinked in confusion.
"Today? How would he even get onto the grounds?"
"He's already here," Dasha laughed brightly, clearly pleased with herself. "He's part of the Novosibirsk wrestling association, even though he's been living and studying here in Xertonia for a year now. His coach called and invited him to join the training camp, if he could manage it alongside his studies. As soon as he heard where the camp would be held, he agreed—so we could spend more time together."
Viola narrowed her eyes.
"Doesn't look like you've been spending much time together at all."
Dasha pressed her lips together and lifted her hands helplessly.
"We kind of forgot about Tatyana. She drags me everywhere with her, and introducing them…" She waved vaguely in the air.
"I thought you were best friends," I said, surprised. "You mean Rostova still hasn't met him?"
"Honestly, I'm afraid to introduce them. You know what Tanya can be like in public."
Viola laughed.
"In public? I'd bet she's just as unbearable when she's alone."
"Viola!" Dasha snapped, stomping her foot. "Stop talking about her like that."
Viola winced, but still made an effort to rein herself in. I remembered all too well how she had taken a dislike to Tanya back when she was dating Stas, so it hardly surprised me. If anything, Viola was sharp-tongued and brutally honest—she said exactly what she thought, straight to your face. Better that than scheming behind someone's back, the way Tatyana did. I had never managed to understand what held Dasha's friendship with Tanya together, no matter how many times I tried.
"As you wish," Viola added curtly and turned toward the forest, folding her arms across her chest.
From somewhere in the distance came the clear, rhythmic thud of a ball being hit, but I didn't rush to share this discovery. Viola must have heard it too, and as for Dasha, I suspected her hearing wasn't quite sharp enough yet. So instead, I asked to be sure:
"How much farther do we have to go?"
Dasha turned and stepped to the side, placing me squarely between herself and Viola. Usually, she stayed closer to her. Had she taken offense at what Viola said about Tanya?
"At that bend we turn left, and then in about six hundred meters there'll be a sand volleyball court with bleachers."
"Bleachers?" My eyes widened as I tried to understand why Tanya's father would invest so much money in a volleyball court and seating on the grounds of a spa complex hardly anyone in the city even knew about.
"They're leftovers from the Soviet era, like a lot of things around here. This used to be a children's health camp. The outdated buildings were torn down and replaced with modern ones. Some of the sports grounds were completely rebuilt; others were just patched up and repainted."
"Tanya told you all that, didn't she?"
"Yeah. She showed me around on the first day while we were walking."
"Looks like everyone but me has had time to explore this place properly," I said with a smirk, and Viola muttered quietly,
"And whose fault is that?"
Arguing with her would have been difficult—especially now that her mood had once again darkened without any obvious reason.
The rest of the way, we talked about which faculties we wanted to apply to, pleased to discover that both Dasha and I were choosing between philology and journalism. I hoped we'd end up in the same one; it would be comforting to see a familiar face in classrooms where everything else would be foreign and new. After the open house, I hadn't been back to Xertonia State University even once—I couldn't bring myself to relive that day. But time was running out fast. The prom was approaching, and after it, I would go submit my applications in person.
Now, when things between Stas and me had finally entered a happy chapter, I sincerely regretted not buying the dress Diana had urged me to get. The price had been painfully high, and back then I simply couldn't justify spending that much on something I saw no point in—at the time, prom had meant nothing to me.
Later, I hadn't even planned to go at all. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to control myself and that I'd end up hurting someone.
How quickly my life had changed. If someone had told me just two days ago that I would start enjoying life again, that I would stop being afraid to get close to my friends, I would have laughed in their face. It would have sounded impossible. Yet now, walking beside Viola, I could breathe deeply, drawing in the fresh air laced faintly with the scent of vampire blood—and feel no burning thirst clawing at my throat.
After the incident at the pool, I hadn't turned. I hadn't killed Stas. I had held myself back and brought the accumulated fury under control, even without fully understanding how. That moment alone gave me such confidence that life began to seem not only bearable, but almost… normal.
The sticky feeling of anxiety still followed close behind, whispering that this artificial calm was fragile, like a house of cards: one gust of wind, and kings would tumble just as easily as twos and threes. I pushed the thought away, asking the universe for just one ordinary day. A day of simple, human problems and friends' laughter. Of whispered conversations about boys and dreamy thoughts of prom.
I needed it like air. I needed, if only for a little while, to feel normal—and to believe in something better, before the darkness swallowed me whole.