2.
YANA. I wanted to move and talk and dress in a new way. Was flirting with the boys, yes I was. So what? In class, Lisa would make fun of my heels and her sing-alongs claimed I was laughing too loud. I was doing my best to hit back at them. The others took some time to take Lisa’s side. At first, they looked up to me, in admiration. In the changing room, Vera would examine my new push-up bra that I’d secretly bought with my pocket money. Mom doesn’t understand it, she only wears sports bras that make everything flat. I thought at least Masha would stick by my side – we’d spent a few years at one desk. But Lisa crooked her finger at her. And Masha became a part of her flock… Didn’t call me to join in for the movie night. Then I didn’t let her take a pic of my notebook for her gram. I was pissed. I even cried in the toilet. And it all seemed fun to Lisa. I don’t even know, what did she care? And then everyone, even those who seemed normal, started making comments, talking. They’d shut up when they saw me. And hiss…
BITCHES. Yana-Hole.
YANA. Once they tossed a condom in my bag. And I yelled at them, “As if it’s my fault that you’re horny and nobody wants you.” I know it wasn’t the boys, it was the bitches who sent that drawing around the class after my first time.
Geography class. Our teacher’s a bit off the rails and old. She’s going through menopause, thus sweating all the time. A wizened cleavage is always wet. Her cheeks are red and her makeup’s running down her face, the mascara, the blush. She’s trying to fix it, but her hands are always covered in chalk, so it only gets worse.
I notice a wave along the left row. Giggling, writing something very intently with their tongues out. Not a class synopsis, can’t be. I can even see their mouths drooling. Masha’s sitting over there with Vera. They exchange glances and Vera draws a zigzag on the sheet. Masha’s eyes meet mine for a split second. But she touches the guy in front of her by the shoulder and passes the sheet on. More and more of them are blushing, moving restlessly, covering their mouths with their hands. The sheet is about to reach me too. Next, like in slow-mo, I see the teacher rip that checkered copybook sheet out of someone’s hands and freeze. She turns white. Then purple. Then starts to scream.
TEACHER. Degenerates. Shame. School. Imbeciles. To the principal. I’ll neuter you. I’m leaving. Filth. Never again. Never.
YANA. We’re fucked. She breaks her pointer and throws it at us, we duck down. She keeps throwing things, there goes the register, the atlases. Holy craaap. Both scary and fun. She yells so hard we can’t make out the words. She basically has articulation issues. She clutches at her heart…
But no. The sheet reaches me. It was not the geography teacher they had drawn on that copybook sheet – it was me with my legs spread, captioned, ‘Yana: “I’m in heat.” – and next, ‘Add details and pass on.’ There were a lot of details added. I sucked air into my lungs. Nadezhda Nikolaevna shouted.
TEACHER. Quiet over there.
YANA. And I kept on writing my synopsis. Fuck you all… And then goes…
TEACHER. Zalesskaya, put your phone away!
YANA. I turn around and see Lisa filming and giggling.