Rhythm of rebellion

Simran and Jack haven’t seen each other since.We know the paradox of the universe - the more you want to see each other, the less you get together. Simran and Jack were victims of this axiom and both could not wait for new meetings. If you look at the clock without blinking, you can feel the weight of time and how slowly it runs away, thereby encouraging you to move; but once you start moving, it will also move from a dead point and never stand still. Similarly, September matures into October: it was dark earlier, and in the evenings I wanted to throw on my shoulders a warm blanket. There are fewer leaves in the trees, but no green ones at all. Much has changed in October. Nancy kept her word and found the money to rent the apartment. Benny could not accept them - and how, if the fate itself gives you such generous gifts? He returned to his previous home, abandoned in the pleasure of rats and cockroaches, and met less often with friends. He came to the rehearsal in a bad mood, spoke little and played poorly, excessively falsified. Benny did not even ask where the average schoolgirl had such an indecent amount for her age. Moreover, he waited and hoped that Nancy would keep her promise. He doesn’t care how hard it is to get out of the worthless Harlem, where it was easy to face the mafia with whom he had an unfriendly relationship. When he got his way, Benny moved south and did not leave the apartment for a long time. He still had some cocaine stashed away on a «black» day, and after retiring to his modest room, he bought a few bottles of water in advance and lined them up by his bed. Smelled, went into the gums, then lay down. A music player of old pattern, but not lost relevance, made the sounds of a defective instrument. Obviously, there was a problem with the needle that went down on the plate and played music. The voice of the talented singer came out crooked, but this did not bother Benny at all - in his head now played other songs... And while he gave in to his passions, Nancy, naively assuming she had done a good deed, made a terrible mistake. First of all, she stole money from her father’s savings. Mr Gan has been saving up for a new car, because the current one has not been able to cope with its duties for a long time and has often failed on the road: sometimes it gets stuck, then oil leaks, the seat breaks… "Old lady, you’re mine, old lady," cried Mr. Gan at such moments and shook his head sadly. The disappearance of money in the house was not known to anyone except Nancy herself until her grandmother became ill with the heart. In the hospital, it became clear that she had suffered a heart attack; a long recovery and proper care were required. That evening, Mr. Gan reached into his wardrobe and, to his shock, pulled out an empty jar, which was now full of tattered bills and change. How much the dry tired face has warped in panic terror, the lips have closed as if in silent protest, say, no! Believe it or not, there must be a reasonable explanation! Where is my money? Mr Gun is doomed to turn in his hand, watching as the glimmer of hope turns into nothing. He sat down on the edge of a metal bed, the mattress bent under his weight, and held the back side of a rough palm over his wet forehead. It was minutes before he had the strength to call his daughter. - Nancy! Get in here! Nancy ran reluctantly and suddenly stopped on the doorstep of her parents' bedroom. Dressed in corduroy trousers and a warm sweater, she immediately noticed the familiar tin, from which she used to pull out a couple of papers for girls' needs. Knowing, Nancy, in order to avoid suspicion, quickly reported: - I packed a bag at the hospital. I put everything I needed, but she tried to distract her angry father by talking. Mr. Gun is a gentle man, but until then he is respected and obeyed. And only occasionally did a merciless beast awaken in it. - What is it? - Mr Gan shook an empty can. - I don’t know. - Don’t you know? Don’t lie to me! he snapped, and Nancy puffed. - Honestly, I don’t know! - There was money. Now it’s gone. Dorothy didn’t know about it, so you took it! - No, I didn’t... I didn’t take the money! When he got out of bed, Mr Gan threw the can on the pillow and grabbed his daughter under the elbow. - What have you done with them?! What nonsense did you do? How can I now pay for hospital bills?! What money to buy medicines?! And if she doesn’t get back on her feet, how can I pay the nurse?! Or maybe you’ll look after your grandmother, eh?! Don’t shut up, you idiot! - he was shaking it just as hard as a storm would shake the overhead power lines. A terrible intonation, accompanied by a strong jolt, pressed Nancy with a titanic force: in the end she cried and was scared, not thinking of opposing her father. His state of mind, which he had kept under imaginary control all week, was suddenly disturbed. Mr Gan screamed and went mad; his eyes, swollen from sleepless nights, were filled with blood and then tears. He no longer screamed, and as if squealing - the breath in the gooseberry, it seems, was flying. He could only be pitied, but rarely the fate of his kind is pitiful. It is cruel, of course, to the good of others. Nancy, pulling out her wet eye, watched her father with a mixture of fear and remorse. It seems that only now did she realize the plight in which they found themselves. Without Dorothy the house will wither, the old order will be broken, there will be no comfort and hearth. And the recovery of health takes a lot of money, patience and strength, but none of this they had. Grasping her head, Nancy felt her knees tremble. She again cried loudly and admitted her guilt. - I’ll get them back, I promise! - God damn it! Mr. Gan stepped back and brushed his top. He did that every time to calm his nerves. - I needed them urgently... - Nancy, oh, Nancy! What did you spend it on? - I... I can’t say. It’s personal. But I’ll pay you back. I just need some time. - Do you think I’ll take money from you? Nancy, how stupid are you? Anyway, what am I asking? It is obvious that as unashamed as she is, the steel notes have shone in her father’s intonation. He clenched his hands in fists, suppressing the desire to slap his daughter. Nancy whimpered and shook her mouth. - I won’t be home for 24 hours. I’ll go to work, and from there to the hospital. I hope you can cook yourself dinner and visit your grandmother at least once? They didn’t look each other in the eye. One was ashamed to do it, and the other was terribly disappointed. Nancy was not an exemplary daughter, yet Mr Gun did not allow himself to be fooled into thinking that his daughter was a thief. That evening, after dinner, Nancy called Benny. It took her nine tries before he answered the phone. Apparently, the drugs were coming to an end and he, having emptied his stomach, picked up the phone lazily. - I messed up like hell, - the brunette cried and put her feet up. The light was on only in the living room, the TV was switched off. Around the light bulb, which was given by a yellow fly, a fat fly whirled. - Baby, are you crying? - Benny was hard on him and he didn’t hide it. His voice sounded with pauses and shortness of breath. - I need money. - Money... - said the man as if he didn’t know the meaning of the words, and then remembered. - Money! How much? - A lot. Neither of us have one. - Then why are you telling me? - Because I’m in trouble, and you’re my boyfriend! - Nancy said annoyingly. She didn’t like it when Benny didn’t understand the obvious things. However, that’s how it is - what he understands if in his understanding everything is exactly the opposite. - Oh, yeah... - Come to my place. Will you come? I’m all alone. - No, baby, you can’t. - You always answer like that! Those of yours won’t kill you... - she cut herself off at the margin, as if she had lost all her powers to speak. She thought it was pointless to argue. Benny wouldn’t come on her own request. She’d like to put her arms around his chest and give him a big hug so she could forget. It’s funny that some people find solace in their loved ones, when they are like the beloved ones in their own weaknesses. - I’m not afraid of anyone! The blonde snarled into the pipe, taking a foreign remark for a claim. - In that case, come! -For God’s sake, baby... - You don’t love me! Don’t love me! Don’t love me! - Nancy, shut up, please! Baby... - Do not love! she shed fresh tears again, which broke on the thigh of her palm. The girl howled plaintively and didn’t understand why it was so cold inside. Unwittingly, Jack’s words came to mind in her memory. He must have been telling the truth. As if she understood, accepted, passed through this thought and was ready to cut the threads that bind them with Benny, but suddenly he said in a decisive way: - Okay! I’m coming! - and hung up. Nancy jumped joyfully on the spot and easily let go of the suspicions that had arisen. She liked the illusions much more than the obvious truth. Love is a complex science, and it is either understood or created by the appearance of full sensory output. Nancy was pleased to have such a good-looking person, such a talented musician with her. The feeble temperament of their dynamic relationship was imbued with pearls; she felt mature in his arms; the difference in age, though not so great, stirred up her feminine imagination, based on Gothic novels about unequal marriages. Anyway, Nancy wanted to keep Benny around at all costs because he was perfect for her preferences. Soon the blonde arrived. They made love first in the living room, then in her room, and there they fell asleep. It was nine o'clock when their heavy eyes closed after passionate touches. Alas for both of them, the sleep was restless and superficial, whether from forgetting the open window, passing a cold draught, or from the uncomfortable posture in which they slept. The clock showed three nights, they caressed each other and whispered the follies of couples; they were full of love. Nancy found peace in him, and he used it and rarely gave anything in return - and he had nothing to give - only hot kisses. - My grandmother in the hospital... - whispered to Nancy as the blonde rubbed her cheek with his thumb. Because of the darkness at night, she could vaguely see his face. - Is that why you need the money? -Yes. I really do. - I don’t have any. - If you were, would you help me? - Like two fingers on the pavement, Benny moaned and went for a kiss just to end his unpleasant conversation. - My cousin... he’s... let me get to it - breathing heavily, trying to get away from the annoying touches of Nancy, but they didn’t listen. The musician strapped a thin waist, pulled closer to himself and kissed with short kisses tender young skin from ear to collarbone. Slippery tongue, leaving the path wet, skillfully touched the right points, causing the girl next to me to tremble and give out quiet sighs. - ... My cousin was in jail, and he got out six months ago... He sold marijuana. - What? Do you think we’re alike? - Wow! I don’t mean that at all! - said the schoolgirl, and Benny laughed softly. - I’m just teasing you. He bit her ear. Nancy peed. - Well... he was making a lot of money... I don’t know if he’s doing it now, but do you think... maybe I could try this once? The boy’s lips are frozen. He stopped caressing his girlfriend, squinted in the dark, trying to see her features and his pause as if to emphasize the importance of the moment. Was she serious, or was she just throwing words at the desperate hour? Benny stepped away and slightly pulled out from under the blanket. - Are you crazy? Are you trying to sell drugs? - Only once! - I threw Nancy in defense. - Huckster decided to become? Milk on the lips is not dried. Yes, you will not take... Although through girls it is easier to push stuff. I know. He has been nagging at the chicks, but, you know, they do not live long. They are either removed or they throw the skates themselves. When she listened carefully, Nancy bit her lip thoughtfully. After a second, torn by the same fervor, she insultingly pushed the blonde on her shoulder and turned away. - Nothing like that... My cousin won’t hurt me. - Are you so friendly with him? -What does that have to do with it? - In addition to the fact that in such cases kinship ties do not work - violently cut off Benny and also lay down to sleep. He put his hand under the pillow and stared at the ceiling, unable to stop thinking about the bright future that Nancy was opening for him. If she does get involved with drugs, it will allow him to take a percentage not only of the sales but also of the substances themselves. Having thought about it, he decided not to change his habits always think only of his own benefit and gently push the girlfriend to the edge of the cliff. - In principle... it’s not that hard. You could try, baby,' he added softly, still looking at the ceiling, 'and I’ll be there to guide you if you need me. - Really? - Have I ever lied to you? - Never, Nancy hugged him and kissed him tenderly - stay close to me. - Since you’re asking… *** At times, Jack experienced a decline in strength. During these periods, which were often caused by internal crises, depressions or a common cold, he became withdrawn and rude. Whatever he did not take, fell out of his hands. The songs were not written, the poems were not composed, and his great novel, on which he had been working for years, was put on the back burner. Yet in literature class, Mr Bing insisted that writing is a discipline, a long and consistent process, and that the inspiration to which authors usually refer is nothing but an excuse for their laziness. Well, Jack totally disagreed with that view then and he disagrees now. Being an author who faced a creative crisis, threw his manuscripts to the «best idea», he did not consider himself lazy. Brilliant ideas come out suddenly, in chaos, and the opposite systematic nature kills them. Jack visited the muse in the person of Simran, and our genius composed an entire album, wrote his diary with verses, and added paragraphs to the novel. This creative rise, to his regret, lasted for a short time - until the twenty-first of October. Important date!. But before that, Jack was killing hours at the beatniks' club: they held poetic evenings, smoked, played pot, listened to each other, shared a philosophy that could unpleasantly shock the ears. The savagery of some hypotheses, the outlook on life, values - this is what distinguished beatniks from gray mass, but at the same time became a mark. Immorality in every thought repulsed the society, so beatniks created their own. Then he played with the band in the garage, performed in pubs, squares and parks. It was time for the recording of the first album. But it was October 21st. Nothing foreshadowed trouble, as it often happens. He woke up, washed himself, shaved his bristle, cut his cheek with a dull machine. Had breakfast with what was in the small fridge. After Benny moved in, the cost of groceries dropped sharply, allowing him to put together a few pockets for his new blouses. Wearing a coat with a high collar, he went for updates and passing by the newsstand, bought himself a newspaper. Not that he would be interested in news, just on the turns you can find funny jokes and scoop cells. This time, however, his attention was drawn to something else, something gloomy and beastly. Jack stopped abruptly, and the couple that was walking behind him almost hit him in the back. He squeezed the paper with his two hands, as if he feared that the wind would tear off the necessary page; he sank into the text with mad eyes. They, glazed, meticulously passed through each printed letter. In the obituary, in the bottom left corner of the newspaper, is a picture of a man. Tall, with clear eyes, young enough and handsome. It was D. Kerouac - the beloved writer and poet of Rockfree; the one who inspired him to a new life, who changed his thinking, by whom he connected his life with literature. - No way! Jack Kerouac is dead! cried out in horror. And only the wanderer, who had been scratching in the bin, turned his scattered gaze upon him. The old man, having scratched his flat head, got on the same level as Jack and glanced at the pages of the newspaper. He was a little tall and wept with urine, but the musician, stunned by the tragic news, seemed as if he had not heard what was coming from the stinking wanderer. - Kerouac? - said the old man, with indifference looking at the portrait of the poet. - Your dad? This nonsense caused Jack to wake up from his hypnosis. He, pale and angry, cast a surprised glance at the stray near him and looked as if it were the devil himself. The old man seemed to be unfazed, and with a lazy hand he said: - Do you have a few cents in your pocket? For vodka. To remember the deceased, so to speak? Jack growled with anger. He was in a terrible state of rage and despair. Without giving an account of his actions, the boy grabbed the tramp by the chopping block and pushed him back into the bin. - Aah! You son of a bitch! Aah! Bandit! - these cries were made by the fact that the old man fell head down into the garbage and could not get out for a long time, losing his balance. Jack got to the place where his fellow poets were gathering and ran into the hall, catching three others playing checkers. - Kerouac is dead! he shouted, throwing a newspaper at someone else’s knees. Mary was the one who read the obituary aloud and then cried with her heart. -I was in love with him. -You need a drink. - Call the others right now! -said the third. By noon, fifteen people dressed in dark clothes were drinking beer and sitting around the infamous newspaper with an obituary. Next to her in a pile lay the same books of different editions, flowers and all sorts of trifles. Beatniks, paying tribute to their ideal, built a memorial right in the middle of the hall. Paul, a more or less successful author whose arrogance was mistaken for character, stood in front of the podium. He read poems by Kerouac. <...>You just get the credit for Heaven -- Heaven Will be indifferent to this Indifferent God (Even, frankly speaking, indifference -- It’s better than hypocrisy) ...honestly - He was my invisible life teacher, Jack sighed. He sat on the stairs and smoked, gazing with detachment at the crack in the bottom steps. The sun occasionally illuminated his sad expression - he did not cry, but was close to it. Suddenly he remembered the words of the tramp, "Your dad?" to some extent. Jack could agree with him. He loved the work of Kerouac and himself as his mentor, teacher, friend, father... The sense of loss knocked him down. He no longer felt that he was a good writer, and his future was full of hope. As if with the death of Kerouac he had lost his talent and passion. The very thought of writing and composing brought him to a deep dismay. It is as if a perfectly healthy person had been told about an incurable disease. And that this news, then - for him a complete absurdity - is in the first second - the thought of the inevitable is assimilated by the brain; and the complete absurdity seems no longer to be a thought, but everything in which there was ever confidence. You can’t even imagine how easy it is to lose her... Jack seemed to have sunk into the sea, touched the rocks and minerals. At first it is good for him, and then unbearably cold. A feeling that can drive a person crazy. Meanwhile, as Rockfree grew more and more introverted, the reddish leaves began to fall on the dry edge. He followed his gaze up to the crown, out of there. - A final touch in your honor, brother - held the cigarette to the sky. - What was he like as a brother to you? - said a hoarse voice behind him. Mary flopped beside him and hid her hands in the pockets of a warm black cardigan. When she was quiet, she snatched a cigarette from Jack and pulled it deep into her throat; when there was only one straw left, she easily got rid of it: aiming for the trash can, Mary threw the beak, but it did not reach its destination. - Damn. Missed. How are you, Jack-i? - Full. - I see, I see. We’re all sad today, so don’t pull the blanket on yourself... or what? - You didn’t love him like I did. - You can’t argue. You talked about him like a Chinaman about the Buddha. Here’s my word, I never understood this devotion of yours, Jack-and... For as long as I’ve known you, you never told me how you got to know his work, - paused Mary, thinking he was going to reveal himself, but Jack kept absolutely silent and then she went on with less enthusiasm: - His time had come... Apparently, he was ready to move on to the next life. We have to accept his death, you know? For us - it’s the end, for him - another beginning. One day we’ll all die, baby. And there won’t be anyone left on the ground. - Is that supposed to make me feel better? - Of course! It’s nice to know that you’re not the only one leaving this world, which would be unfair. I wrote about it. Listen, Mary kicked him with her foot and coughed: - Night is coming, and the moon will not shine... I... we all need to think more about death; death has cold breath, but warm hands... give it as a bride in marriage. The last line needs finishing… Jack listened to her, nodded and stroked the top of his head, which was hidden under a thick winter hat. Lovely Mary... Jack saw in her a sexy, valued woman. She had many lovers; many of them behind this door, drinking in memory of the late writer. And she always looked at him with warmth and was burning passion for him alone. Funny thing, living one day, as advised by Kerouac, Ginsberg, Burrows... Mary was like a disco ball: shiny, bright, playful, but there was something deep behind this booyball. Her charms, flirtations, which she used in a convenient moment, made life easier for her. In this city that never sleeps, life is hard for anyone who looks at the world with his own eyes. Other people’s eyes are blinded. Jack suddenly touched her cheek, hitting a big mole that looked like a small island in the middle of a milky ocean. Mary, in turn, held her breath. Under the unseen pressure of thickened air around them, they stepped forward and kissed. Their hot mouths merged, and their tongues, joined in slippery hugs, trembled convulsively. The girl’s chest swelled under layers of clothing: she longed to be naked in his arms, but senselessly understood that for Jack this kiss was nothing but a moment of weakness. And indeed, a moment later, Rockfree pulled away from Mary and, in a crushing collapse, put his head on her shoulder. - If you ask for forgiveness, I will fight with you, she said without joking, it would mean that you are sorry. - It was nice to kiss, only Jack said. - Are you in love with someone? He laughed, but it turned out to be very dry. - No, you tell me - are you in love? - Love is not free. - Idiot,' Mary gave him a slap on the back of his head, 'one like you,' Jackie, I mean, break good girls' hearts. Roscoe grumbled thoughtfully. He was flattered that Mary had put him on the same foot as Kerouac. - Well, then it’s a good thing you’re not one of them. *** Dusk was approaching. The warm evening wind whipped away the shriveled leaves in the corners. It was humid. Simran just finished her homework and said goodbye to her friends from the chess club to go home. Her categorical words about the city tournament became prophetic: Simran passed the next round, however, refused to participate further, arguing that she had renounced. Meanwhile, the school administration strongly insisted that Simran show up for the competition. First, if it wins, Hanshir-Foy Knoll’s rating will rise a notch higher, which will undoubtedly elevate it among other similar institutions. Second, the bonus for Simran herself, the winner was attached a cash prize of $50. For high school students it is a good pocket for shopping or spending time with friends. Eventually, Kiwi, under pressure from the teachers and after talking to his mother, decided to play on... And she almost managed to break into the semi-final, only more experienced, with a little rating, the chess player put her mate after six moves. Simran lost and returned home. She was not upset or angry, rather repressed by her own righteousness: Kiwi assured everyone that she would lose and in response to her «we know you can». To disappoint other people’s expectations is as unpleasant as not fulfilling their own. Deep down, she hoped that she was wrong about herself. - Defeat brings you one step closer to victory, Kiwi,' said Mr Moss, brushing his silky hair. The girl lay in bed and listened to her father’s breath, whose voice was a little crispy either from the autumn chill or from the fact that he screamed on duty. Sometimes, during the night raids, Benjamin lost his voice or lost it completely. He became emotional and impulsive at times when the offenders treated him unfairly. - Learn from your mistakes. - I warned my mom that I was too weak. - Let’s do it. - Oh, don’t say such things in a calm tone, Dad, please! - Simran slipped under the blanket and buzzed under it: I disappointed everyone! -Kiwi, this is your first tournament and you’ve already shown how clever you are - Mr Moss kindly extended his hand and climbed up from the edge of the bed - I’m personally proud of you. - It can’t be. - Yeah, maybe. - I don't believe it. - Stubbornness doesn’t suit you, he chuckled. Simran whispered something like «no», but Benjamin had already closed the door behind him and was cramming with twins on the couch. Charlie and Marley filled the house with laughter. Meanwhile, autumn brought with it not only damp and gloomy clouds, but also the charm of traditional holidays, both state and school. Candy Day, which was celebrated on the third Saturday of October, then Halloween, Thanksgiving, when the whole family gathers together for a pompous dinner. These days, the city is full of music, parades and good things - people donate to charities, feed the homeless, give out hot drinks and warm clothes. In the run-up to this important holiday, schools organize dance fairs. Performances are put on, the school choir performs with a hymn in the auditorium. Simran liked the atmosphere that brought Thanksgiving to life. She felt a spiritual rise, was full of responsibility and gladly helped the organizers with the decoration of the hall. On Friday, having finished the performance of the nine-year-olds, the pupils left their classes and went home to prepare for dancing. Nancy, noticed Simran, was surprisingly fussy and walked away from her girlfriends. This goes on for a while, and Kiwi has often thought that the reason for the sharp change in Nancy’s behavior was her relationship with the musician. No, Simran wasn’t quite sure, it’s just a hypothesis, but isn’t it suspicious that Nancy began to look like a bundle of loose nerves after revealing the love mystery. She herself, by the way, was silent about her affair with Benny. Judging from the observer, Kiwi had nothing to say about Benny as a man; she saw him a couple of times, never exchanged lines or wanted to. Benny gave the impression of being a prude, unable to take responsibility for his actions. They are also called rascals, and often assholes. But Simran hardly had the right to judge other people’s love affairs, having no idea what these two represent in their private state. We all open up in a new way, if we are alone with the right person. -Who are you going to the dance with? - That’s what Jodie said. She also noticed how hard it had become to be with Nancy and tried less to talk to her. Simran frowned deeply. -He invited me, and I couldn’t say no. - Who is he? Mason Carter? - The blonde didn’t even wonder and looked at Kiwi: - How did you agree? - I had no choice. I owe him. - Because you besieged him that day at the strike? I think he deserved it. - It’s just dancing. -Yes, exactly. Just make sure that Mason doesn’t try to steal your kiss. First kiss, I understand. - I will not kiss him, even under the threat of death! Simran groped and scowled the grimace from which Joe had a nervous laugh. They went into the ladies' room, catching up with Nancy; she was already behind the door of the stall. From the poorly washed-out walls with soapy pitches bounced squeaky sound, as if they had been stripped of duct tape. Simran and Jodi looked at each other. With her hands under the pressure of hot water, Kiwi looked at the booth through the mirror, but stopped asking a question about each squeaky sound. Then Rain intervened, pulling up warm tights and trying to see what was going on inside from under the door slit. - Nancy? - I’m coming. - What are you doing there? Emergency waxing? - hoped that a silly joke would defuse the blonde’s mood, but she was the only one who laughed. There was an ominous silence outside the stall door. Simran wiped her wet hands on her skirt and stared at Jody. They were both torn apart by curiosity and settled inside fear for their friend, who had changed so dramatically in behavior. Suddenly there was a toilet flush, and the door creaked, opening with such monstrous force that it almost knocked down Nancy’s unsuspecting act. She miraculously jumped aside. - I’ll see you at the dance, the brunette hurried down and the furry ran out of the ladies' room. Joe shouted in anger: - Is she crazy?! Did you see? Did you see?! She almost broke my nose! - Yeah, I did. - No, really! What happened to her? She hasn’t been herself for a month. Does she have premature PMS? - Did you talk to her? Here Rain awkwardly bit her lip and, with a heavy sigh, sat down on the windowsill, opening the palm of the hem of his dress. - I called her. She didn’t pick up the phone. Last time we talked about today’s dance. It took us a long time to decide who would perform. - You mean? - Simran wondered. - We need music for dancing. - Obviously. - But our school choir with its spiritual instruments is a bad candidate. And the school has no money to invite a decent music group. - I didn’t think about it at all... I thought those nuances were settled long ago. - Well, not without a laugh from Nancy - solemnly and even proudly announced the blonde. - What are you saying? - in her mind, Simran already knew exactly what Jodie was going to say to her, but the strange nervousness still tormented her joints mercilessly. She felt a pain in her knees and later realized that they were shaking. - Nancy asked the principal to invite «Inday». Do you remember them? «Try to forget them, when one sleeps with your girlfriend, and the other suddenly plays good,» - almost escaped from Simran. - Independents of the day? These... thieves? - Come on! They gave you your money back. - It doesn’t change what they are. They didn’t rob me alone. - But they are beautiful and their music is cool, so I supported Nancy’s idea. And the director too. Also, for the concert they took about a hundred all evening. Isn’t that great? Simran did not share her friend’s exultation; instead, she was upset at first, then angry, then glad to see Jack, and then angry again that she was happy about it. Confused in his own emotions, Kiwi nodded and rolled her eyes. -Draw a lot. - If you’re interested, I’m going to the dance with Richard. -That’s the one who broke the aquarium in the biology room last week? Jody did not like the slur that slipped into her friend’s intonation, so in defense of her boyfriend she strongly said: - It was an accident! - Do you know who Nancy’s going with? - Simran cleverly changed the subject and looked into Joe’s eyes. She chatted without silence and in different emotional states, obviously why the silence that arose so suddenly after her chatter seemed so strangely deafening. Jody’s cheeks blushed - she was definitely hiding something. - You know exactly,' said Kiwi, angrily, feeling as though she had been holding on to the inside all this time, stepped out. - She asked me to keep quiet. I found out recently. Just when I called her about the dance... Not that she was purposely hiding it from you, just that I think she was shy or maybe scared... - sounded like a broken alarm clock again. Simran noticed that Rain has a bad habit of justifying everyone. -Who is he anyway? - Just swear you won’t tell her what I told you! - Oh, my God. - Swear, Simran. And put your hand to your heart. Ceding to the blonde, Kiwi took an oath. When she got her way, Jody jumped off the ledge and whispered the name in her ear. It was the same name that Simran had already heard from someone else. So, Jack didn’t lie. -This is the handsome guitar player. He came to school with yours, who gave you your money back. - I get it... replied Simran in a vague way and didn’t want to talk about Nancy and her affairs anymore. Everyone knew about it except her alone... Why did Nancy hide her relationship from her? Why? Because she studied in the Holy Mary? Or because I have kept my chastity until now? Frustrated with his old self, Simran stubbornly kept silent all the way to the bus stop. However, Jody did not notice this change and enthusiastically told which beautiful dress to wear in the evening.