Сумерки

           Myhomeworkwasdone-theproductofaslowsociallife-buttherewereafewTrigproblemsIwasn’tsureIhadright.Itookoutmybookindustriously,buthalfwaythroughrecheckingthefirstproblemIwasdaydreaming,watchingthesunlightplayonthered-barkedtrees.Isketchedinattentivelyalongthemarginsofmyhomework.Afterafewminutes,IsuddenlyrealizedI’ddrawnfivepairsofdarkeyesstaringoutofthepageatme.Iscrubbedthemoutwiththeeraser.

           "Bella!"Iheardsomeonecall,anditsoundedlikeMike.

           IlookedaroundtorealizethattheschoolhadbecomepopulatedwhileI’dbeensittingthere,absentminded.Everyonewasint-shirts,someeveninshortsthoughthetemperaturecouldn’tbeoversixty.MikewascomingtowardmeinkhakishortsandastripedRugbyshirt,waving.

           "Hey,Mike,"Icalled,wavingback,unabletobehalfheartedonamorninglikethis.

           Hecametositbyme,thetidyspikesofhishairshininggoldeninthelight,hisgrinstretchingacrosshisface.Hewassodelightedtoseeme,Icouldn’thelpbutfeelgratified.

           "Inevernoticedbefore-yourhairhasredinit,"hecommented,catchingbetweenhisfingersastrandthatwasflutteringinthelightbreeze.

           "Onlyinthesun."

           Ibecamejustalittleuncomfortableashetuckedthelockbehindmyear.

           "Greatday,isn’tit?"

           "Mykindofday,"Iagreed.

           "Whatdidyoudoyesterday?"Histonewasjustabittooproprietary.

           "Imostlyworkedonmyessay."Ididn’taddthatIwasfinishedwithit-noneedtosoundsmug.

           Hehithisforeheadwiththeheelofhishand.