Anastasia Prokopyevna Kopylova

Strange: why do we, just like before our parents, every time feel guilty before our teachers? And not for what happened at school - no, but for what happened to us after.

I went to the fifth grade in forty-eight. It would be more correct to say, I went: in our village there was only elementary School, therefore, in order to study further, I had to equip myself from home fifty kilometers away to the regional center. A week earlier, my mother had gone there, agreed with her friend that I would lodge with her, and on the last day of August, Uncle Vanya, the driver of the only lorry on the collective farm, unloaded me on Podkamennaya Street, where I was to live, helped bring a bundle of bed, patted him on the shoulder reassuringly and drove off. So, at the age of eleven, my independent life began.

The hunger that year had not yet let go, and my mother had three of us, I was the oldest. In the spring, when it was especially hard, I swallowed myself and forced my sister to swallow the eyes of sprouted potatoes and grains of oats and rye in order to dilute the plantings in the stomach - then you would not have to think about food all the time. All summer we diligently watered our seeds with pure Angarsk water, but for some reason we did not wait for the harvest, or it was so small that we did not feel it. However, I think that this idea is not entirely useless and someday it will come in handy for a person, and due to inexperience, we did something wrong there.

It is hard to say how my mother decided to let me go to the district (the district center was called the district). We lived without a father, lived very badly, and she, apparently, reasoned that it would not be worse - there was nowhere. I studied well, I went to school with pleasure, and in the village I was recognized as a literate person: I wrote for old women and read letters, went through all the books that ended up in our unprepossessing library, and in the evenings told all sorts of stories from them to the children, adding more from myself. But they especially believed in me when it came to bonds. People accumulated a lot of them during the war, the tables of winnings came often, and then the bonds were carried to me. I thought I had a lucky eye. Winnings really did happen, most often small ones, but the collective farmer in those years was happy with any penny, and here completely unexpected luck fell out of my hands. The joy from her involuntarily fell to me. I was singled out from the village children, they even fed me; Once Uncle Ilya, in general, a stingy, tight-fisted old man, having won four hundred rubles, hastily piled a bucket of potatoes for me - in the spring it was considerable wealth.

And all because I understood bond numbers, mothers said:

Your brainy guy is growing. You are ... let's teach him. Gratitude will not go to waste.

And my mother, in spite of all the misfortunes, gathered me together, although before that no one from our village in the region had studied. I was first. Yes, I did not understand properly what was ahead of me, what trials awaited me, my dear, in a new place.

I studied here and it's good. What was left for me? - then I came here, I didn’t have anything else to do here, and then I still didn’t know how to treat everything that was entrusted to me in a slipshod manner. I would hardly have dared to go to school if I had not learned at least one lesson, so in all subjects except French, I kept fives.

I didn't get along well with French because of the pronunciation. I easily memorized words and phrases, quickly translated, coped well with the difficulties of spelling, but pronunciation with a head betrayed all my Angarsk origin right up to the last generation, where no one ever pronounces foreign words if at all suspected of their existence. I sputtered in French in the manner of our village tongue twisters, swallowing half of the sounds as unnecessary, and blurting out the other half in short barking bursts. Lidia Mikhailovna, the French teacher, listened to me, wincing helplessly and closing her eyes. Of course, I've never heard of anything like it. Again and again she showed how to pronounce nasals, vowel combinations, asked me to repeat - I was lost, my tongue in my mouth became stiff and did not move. Everything was wasted. But the worst thing happened when I came home from school. There I was involuntarily distracted, all the time I had to do something, there the guys bothered me, together with them - like it or not - I had to move, play, and in the classroom - work. But as soon as I was left alone, melancholy immediately piled up - longing for home, for the village. Never before, even for a day, had I been absent from my family and, of course, I was not ready to live among strangers. I felt so bad, so bitter and disgusted! - worse than any disease. I wanted only one thing, I dreamed of one thing - home and home. I lost a lot of weight; my mother, who arrived at the end of September, was afraid for me. With her, I strengthened myself, did not complain and did not cry, but when she began to leave, I could not stand it and chased the car with a roar. Mother waved her hand to me from the back so that I would be behind, not to disgrace myself and her, I did not understand anything. Then she made up her mind and stopped the car.

Get ready,” she demanded as I approached. Enough, weaned, let's go home.

I came to my senses and ran away.

But I lost weight not only because of homesickness. In addition, I was constantly malnourished. In the autumn, while Uncle Vanya was taking bread on his lorry to Zagotzerno, which was not far from the district center, food was sent to me quite often, about once a week. But the problem is that I missed her. There was nothing there but bread and potatoes, and occasionally her mother stuffed cottage cheese into a jar, which she took from someone for something: she did not keep a cow. They bring it - it seems a lot, you'll miss it in two days - it's empty. I very soon began to notice that a good half of my bread was disappearing somewhere in the most mysterious way. Checked - it is: it was - no. The same thing happened with potatoes. Whether it was Aunt Nadya, a noisy, overwrought woman who was running around alone with three children, one of her older girls or her younger one, Fedka, I didn’t know, I was afraid to even think about it, let alone follow. It was just a shame that my mother, for my sake, tears the last thing from her own, from her sister and brother, but it still goes by. But I forced myself to come to terms with it. It will not be easier for the mother if she hears the truth.

The famine here was not at all like the famine in the countryside. There, always, and especially in autumn, it was possible to intercept, pluck, dig, lift something, fish walked in the Angara, a bird flew in the forest. Here everything around me was empty: strange people, strange vegetable gardens, strange land. A small river for ten rows was filtered with nonsense. I once sat with a fishing rod all day on Sunday and caught three small, about a teaspoon, minnows - you won’t get good from such fishing either. I didn’t go anymore - what a waste of time to translate! In the evenings, he hung around at the teahouse, at the market, remembering what they sell for how much, choked on saliva and walked back with nothing. Aunt Nadia had a hot kettle on the stove; throwing boiled water over the naked man and warming his stomach, he went to bed. Back to school in the morning. And so he lived up to that happy hour, when a lorry and a half drove up to the gate and Uncle Vanya knocked on the door. Hungry and knowing that my grub would still not last long, no matter how much I saved it, I ate to satiety, to pain and stomach, and then, after a day or two, again planted my teeth on the shelf.

Once, back in September, Fedka asked me:

Are you afraid to play "chika"?

In what "chika"? - I did not understand.

The game is like that. For money. If we have money, let's go play.

And I don't have. Let's go, let's take a look. See how great it is.

Fedka took me to the gardens. We walked along the edge of an oblong, ridged hill, completely overgrown with nettles, already black, tangled, with drooping poisonous clusters of seeds; We approached. The guys were worried. All of them were about the same age as me, except for one - tall and strong, noticeable for his strength and power, a guy with a long red bang. I remembered: he went to the seventh grade.

Why else did you bring this? he said discontentedly to Fedka.

He is his own, Vadik, his own, - Fedka began to justify himself. - He lives with us.

Will you play? - Vadik asked me.

There is no money.

Here's another! - I was offended.

It didn't cost anything to figure out the game. Each staked ten kopecks on the bet, a stack of coins was lowered tails up onto a platform bounded by a bold line about two meters from the cash register, and on the other side, from a boulder that had grown into the ground and served as an emphasis for the front foot, they threw a round stone washer. You had to throw it in such a way that it rolled as close as possible to the line, but did not go beyond it - then you got the right to be the first to break the cash register. They beat him with the same puck, trying to turn it over. eagle coins. Turned over - yours, beat further, no - give this right to the next one. But it was considered most important of all when throwing the puck to cover the coins, and if at least one of them turned out to be on the eagle, the entire cash register went into your pocket without talking, and the game began again.

Vadik was cunning. He walked to the boulder after everyone else, when the full picture of the turn was before his eyes and he saw where to throw to get ahead. The money went first, it rarely reached the last. Probably, everyone understood that Vadik was cunning, but no one dared to tell him about it. True, he played well. Approaching the stone, he crouched a little, squinted, aimed the puck at the target and slowly, smoothly straightened up - the puck slipped out of his hand and flew where he was aiming. With a quick movement of his head, he tossed the bangs that had gone down, casually spat to the side, showing that the deed was done, and with a lazy, deliberately slow step stepped towards the money. If they were in a heap, he hit sharply, with a ringing sound, but he touched single coins with a puck carefully, with a knurling, so that the coin would not beat and spin in the air, but, not rising high, would just roll over to the other side. Nobody else could do that. The guys hit at random and took out new coins, and those who had nothing to get, turned into spectators.

It seemed to me that if I had money, I could play. In the countryside, we fiddled with grandmothers, but even there you need an accurate eye. And besides, I liked to invent for myself amusements for accuracy: I'll pick up a handful of stones, find a harder target and throw it at it until I get the full result - ten out of ten. He threw both from above, from behind his shoulder, and from below, hanging a stone over the target. So I had some flair. There was no money.

Mother sent me bread because we had no money, otherwise I would have bought it here too. Where can they get on the collective farm? Nevertheless, twice she put me five in a letter - for milk. For the present it is fifty kopecks, you can’t get hold of it, but all the same, money, you could buy five half-liter cans of milk at the market, at a ruble per jar. I was ordered to drink milk from anemia, I often suddenly felt dizzy for no reason at all.

But, having received a five for the third time, I did not go for milk, but exchanged it for a trifle and went to the dump. The place here was chosen sensibly, you can’t say anything: the clearing, closed by hills, was not visible from anywhere. In the village, in full view of adults, such games were chased, threatened by the director and the police. Nobody bothered us here. And not far, in ten minutes you will reach.

The first time I lost ninety kopecks, the second - sixty. Of course, it was a pity for the money, but I felt that I was adjusting to the game, my hand was gradually getting used to the puck, I was learning to release exactly as much force as needed to make the puck go right, my eyes also learned to know in advance where it would fall and how much more roll across the ground. In the evenings, when everyone left, I returned here again, took out the puck hidden by Vadik from under the stone, raked out my change from my pocket and threw it until it got dark. I made sure that out of ten throws, three or four guessed exactly for the money.

And finally the day came when I won.

Autumn was warm and dry. Even in October it was so warm that one could walk in a shirt, the rains fell rarely and seemed random, inadvertently brought from somewhere out of bad weather by a weak tail breeze. The sky was turning blue quite like summer, but it seemed to have become narrower, and the sun was setting early. In clear hours the air smoked over the hills, carrying the bitter, intoxicating smell of dry wormwood, distant voices sounded clearly, flying birds screamed. The grass in our clearing, yellowed and smoky, nevertheless remained alive and soft, free from the game, or rather, lost guys, were busy on it.

Now I come here every day after school. The guys changed, newcomers appeared, and only Vadik did not miss a single game. She didn't start without him. Behind Vadik, like a shadow, followed a big-headed, short-haired, stocky guy, nicknamed Ptah. At school, I had never met Ptah before, but, looking ahead, I’ll say that in the third quarter, he suddenly, like snow on his head, fell on our class. It turns out that he stayed in the fifth for the second year and, under some pretext, gave himself a vacation until January. Ptakha also usually won, although not in the same way as Vadik, less, but did not remain at a loss. Yes, because, probably, he did not stay, because he was at the same time with Vadik and he slowly helped him.

From our class, Tishkin sometimes ran into the clearing, a fussy boy with blinking eyes who liked to raise his hand in class. Knows, does not know - still pulls. Called - silent.

Why did you raise your hand? - ask Tishkin.

He slapped his little eyes:

I remembered, but by the time I got up, I forgot.

I didn't make friends with him. From timidity, taciturnity, excessive rural isolation, and most importantly - from wild homesickness, which did not leave any desires in me, I did not yet get along with any of the guys. They were not attracted to me either, I remained alone, not understanding and not singling out loneliness from my bitter situation: alone - because here, and not at home, not in the village, I have many comrades there.

Tishkin didn't even seem to notice me in the clearing. Having quickly lost, he disappeared and did not appear again soon.

And I won. I began to win constantly, every day. I had my own calculation: no need to roll the puck around the court, seeking the right to the first shot; when there are many players, it is not easy: the closer you reach for the line, the greater the danger of going over it and remaining last. It is necessary to cover the cash register when throwing. So I did. Of course, I took a risk, but with my skill it was a justified risk. I could lose three, four times in a row, but on the fifth, having taken the cashier, I returned my loss three times. Lost again and returned again. I rarely had to hit the puck on the coins, but even here I used my own trick: if Vadik rolled over myself, on the contrary, I baled away from myself - it was so unusual, but the puck held the coin in this way, did not let it spin and, moving away, turned over after itself.

Now I have money. I did not allow myself to get too carried away with the game and hang around in the clearing until the evening, I needed only a ruble, every day for a ruble. Having received it, I ran away, bought a jar of milk at the market (the aunts grumbled, looking at my bent, beaten, torn coins, but they poured milk), dined and sat down for lessons. All the same, I didn’t eat my fill, but the mere thought that I was drinking milk added strength to me and subdued my hunger. It seemed to me that my head was now spinning much less.

At first, Vadik was calm about my winnings. He himself was not at a loss, and from his pockets it is unlikely that I got anything. Sometimes he even praised me: here, they say, how to quit, study, muffins. However, soon Vadik noticed that I was leaving the game too quickly, and one day he stopped me:

What are you - zagreb cash desk and tear? Look what a smart one! Play.

I need to do my homework, Vadik, - I began to excuse myself.

Who needs to do homework, he does not go here.

And Bird sang:

Who told you that this is how they play for money? For this, you want to know, they beat a little. Understood?

Vadik didn't give me the puck before him anymore and let me get to the stone only last. He shot well, and often I reached into my pocket for a new coin without touching the puck. But I threw better, and if I got the opportunity to throw, the puck, like a magnet, flew like a money. I myself was surprised at my accuracy, I should have guessed to hold it back, play more inconspicuously, but I ingenuously and ruthlessly continued to bomb the box office. How was I to know that no one has ever been forgiven if he is ahead in his work? Then do not expect mercy, do not seek intercession, for others he is an upstart, and the one who follows him hates him most of all. I had to comprehend this science in my own skin that autumn.

I had just hit the money again and was going to collect it when I noticed that Vadik had stepped on one of the scattered coins. All the rest were upside down. In such cases, when throwing, they usually shout “to the warehouse!” In order - if there is no eagle - to collect the money in one pile for the strike, but, as always, I hoped for luck and did not shout.

Not in the warehouse! Vadik announced.

I approached him and tried to move his foot off the coin, but he pushed me away, quickly grabbed it from the ground and showed me tails. I managed to notice that the coin was on the eagle - otherwise he would not have closed it.

You flipped her, I said. - She was on an eagle, I saw.

He thrust his fist under my nose.

Didn't you see this? Smell what it smells like.

I had to reconcile. It was pointless to insist on one's own; if a fight starts, no one, not a single soul will intercede for me, not even Tishkin, who was spinning right there.

Vadik's evil, narrowed eyes looked at me point-blank. I bent down, tapped the nearest coin softly, turned it over and moved the second one. “Hluzda will lead you to the truth,” I decided. “I’m going to take them all now anyway.” Again he pointed the puck for a hit, but he didn’t have time to lower it: someone suddenly gave me a strong knee from behind, and I awkwardly, bowed my head down, poked into the ground. Laughed around.

Behind me, smiling expectantly, stood Bird. I was taken aback:

What are you?!

Who told you it was me? he answered. - Dreamed, or what?

Come here! - Vadik extended his hand for the puck, but I did not give it away. Resentment overwhelmed me with fear of nothing in the world, I was no longer afraid. For what? Why are they doing this to me? What did I do to them?

Come here! - demanded Vadik.

You flipped that coin! I called out to him. - I saw it turned over. Saw.

Come on, repeat," he asked, advancing on me.

You turned it over,” I said more quietly, knowing full well what would follow.

First, again from behind, I was hit by Ptah. I flew at Vadik, he quickly and deftly, without trying on, poked me with his head in the face, and I fell, blood spurted from my nose. As soon as I jumped up, Ptah attacked me again. It was still possible to break free and run away, but for some reason I did not think about it. I twirled between Vadik and Ptah, almost not defending myself, holding my hand to my nose, from which blood was gushing, and in despair, adding to their rage, stubbornly shouting the same thing:

Flipped over! Flipped over! Flipped over!

They beat me in turn, one and a second, one and a second. Someone third, small and vicious, kicked my legs, then they were almost completely covered with bruises. I tried only not to fall, not to fall again for anything, even in those moments it seemed to me a shame. But in the end they knocked me to the ground and stopped.

Get out of here while you're alive! - ordered Vadik. - Quickly!

I got up and, sobbing, tossing my dead nose, trudged up the mountain.

Just blather to someone - we'll kill! - Vadik promised me after.

I didn't answer. Everything in me somehow hardened and closed in resentment, I did not have the strength to get a word out of myself. And, only having climbed the mountain, I could not resist and, as if foolish, I shouted at the top of my lungs - so that the whole village probably heard:

Flip-u-st!

Ptakha was about to rush after me, but he immediately returned - apparently, Vadik decided that enough was enough for me, and stopped him. For about five minutes I stood and, sobbing, looked at the clearing, where the game began again, then went down the other side of the hill to a hollow, tightened around with black nettles, fell on the hard dry grass and, not holding back any longer, wept bitterly, sobbing.

There was not and could not be in the whole wide world a person more unfortunate than me.

In the morning I looked at myself in the mirror with fear: my nose was swollen and swollen, there was a bruise under my left eye, and below it, on my cheek, there was a fat bloody abrasion. I had no idea how to go to school in this form, but somehow I had to go, skipping classes for whatever reason, I did not dare. Let’s say that people’s noses and naturally happen to be cleaner than mine, and if it weren’t for the usual place, you would never guess that this is a nose, but nothing can justify an abrasion and a bruise: it’s immediately obvious that they show off here not of my good will.

Shielding my eye with my hand, I darted into the classroom, sat down at my desk and lowered my head. The first lesson, unfortunately, was French. Lidia Mikhailovna, by right of a class teacher, was more interested in us than other teachers, and it was difficult to hide anything from her. She came in, greeted us, but before seating the class, she had a habit of carefully examining almost each of us, making supposedly playful, but obligatory remarks. And, of course, she immediately saw the marks on my face, even though I hid them as best I could; I realized this because the guys began to turn around on me.

Well, - said Lidia Mikhailovna, opening the magazine. “There are wounded among us today.

The class laughed, and Lidia Mikhailovna looked up at me again. They mowed at her and looked as if past, but by that time we had already learned to recognize where they were looking.

What happened? she asked.

Fell, - I blurted out, for some reason not having guessed in advance to come up with even the slightest degree of decent explanation.

Oh, how unfortunate. Did it crash yesterday or today?

Today. No, last night when it was dark.

Hee fell! shouted Tishkin, choking with joy. - This was brought to him by Vadik from the seventh grade. They played for money, and he began to argue and earned, I saw it. He says he fell.

I was dumbfounded by such betrayal. Does he not understand anything at all or is it on purpose? For playing for money, we could be expelled from school in no time. Finished it. In my head everything was alarmed with fear and buzzed: it was gone, now it was gone. Well, Tishkin. Here is Tishkin so Tishkin. Pleased. Brought clarity - nothing to say.

I wanted to ask you, Tishkin, something completely different, - without being surprised and without changing her calm, slightly indifferent tone, Lidia Mikhailovna stopped him. - Go to the blackboard, since you're talking, and get ready to answer. She waited until the bewildered, who immediately became unhappy Tishkin came out to the blackboard, and briefly said to me: - You will stay after the lessons.

Most of all, I was afraid that Lidia Mikhailovna would drag me to the director. This means that, in addition to today's conversation, tomorrow I will be taken out in front of the school line and forced to tell what prompted me to do this dirty business. The director, Vasily Andreevich, asked the guilty one, no matter what he did - broke a window, got into a fight or smoked in the restroom: “What prompted you to do this dirty business?” He paced in front of the ruler, throwing his hands behind his back, moving his shoulders forward in time with his broad steps, so that it seemed as if the tightly buttoned, protruding dark jacket was moving independently a little ahead of the director, and urged: “Answer, answer. We are waiting. look, the whole school is waiting for you to tell us.” The student began to mutter something in his defense, but the director interrupted him: “You answer my question, answer my question. How was the question asked? - "What prompted me?" - That's it: what prompted? We listen to you." The case usually ended in tears, only after that the director calmed down, and we went to classes. It was more difficult with high school students who did not want to cry, but could not answer Vasily Andreevich's question either.

Once our first lesson started ten minutes late, and all this time the director was interrogating one ninth-grader, but, having not achieved anything intelligible from him, he took him to his office.

And what, interestingly, I will say? It would have been better to get kicked out right away. I briefly touched on this thought and thought that then I would be able to return home, and then, as if burned, I was frightened: no, you can’t go home with such a shame. Another thing is if I myself had left school ... But even then you can say about me that I am an unreliable person, since I could not stand what I wanted, and then everyone would shun me altogether. No, just not like that. I would still be patient here, I would get used to it, but you can’t go home like that.

After the lessons, trembling with fear, I waited for Lidia Mikhailovna in the corridor. She left the staff room and nodded as she led me into the classroom. As always, she sat down at the table, I wanted to sit at the third desk, away from her, but Lidia Mikhailovna pointed to the first one, right in front of her.

Is it true that you play for money? she started right away. She asked too loudly, it seemed to me that at school it was necessary to talk about it only in a whisper, and I was even more scared. But there was no point in locking myself up, Tishkin managed to sell me with giblets. I mumbled:

So how do you win or lose? I hesitated, not knowing which was better.

Let's tell it like it is. Are you losing, perhaps?

You… win.

Okay, anyway. You win, that is. And what do you do with money?

At first, at school, for a long time I could not get used to Lidia Mikhailovna's voice, it confused me. In our village they spoke, wrapping their voice deep in their guts, and therefore it sounded to their heart's content, while Lidia Mikhailovna's voice was somehow shallow and light, so that one had to listen to it, and not from impotence at all - she could sometimes say to her heart's content , but as if from secrecy and unnecessary savings. I was ready to blame everything on French: of course, while I was studying, while I was adjusting to someone else's speech, my voice sat without freedom, weakened, like a bird in a cage, now wait for it to disperse again and get stronger. And now Lidia Mikhailovna asked as if she was at that time busy with something else, more important, but she still couldn’t get away from her questions.

Well, so what do you do with the money you win? Do you buy candy? Or books? Or are you saving up for something? After all, you probably have a lot of them now?

No, not much. I only win a ruble.

And you don't play anymore?

And the ruble? Why ruble? What are you doing with it?

I buy milk.

She sat in front of me neat, all smart and beautiful, beautiful in clothes, and in her feminine young pore, which I vaguely felt, the smell of perfume from her reached me, which I took for my very breath; besides, she was not a teacher of some kind of arithmetic, not of history, but of the mysterious French language, from which something special, fabulous, beyond the control of anyone, everyone, like, for example, me, came from. Not daring to raise my eyes to her, I did not dare to deceive her. And why, after all, should I lie?

She paused, examining me, and I felt with my skin how, at the glance of her squinting, attentive eyes, all my troubles and absurdities really swell and fill with their evil strength. There was, of course, something to look at: in front of her, crouched on a desk, was a skinny, wild boy with a broken face, untidy without a mother and alone, in an old, washed-out jacket on sagging shoulders, which was just right on his chest, but from which his arms protruded far; in light green trousers made from his father's breeches and tucked into teal, with traces of yesterday's fight. Even earlier I had noticed with what curiosity Lidia Mikhailovna was looking at my shoes. Of the entire class, I was the only one wearing teals. Only the next autumn, when I flatly refused to go to school with them, did my mother sell the sewing machine, our only asset, and buy me tarpaulin boots.

And yet, you don’t need to play for money, ”said Lidia Mikhailovna thoughtfully. - How would you manage without it. Can you get by?

Not daring to believe in my salvation, I easily promised:

I spoke sincerely, but what can you do if our sincerity cannot be tied with ropes.

In fairness, I must say that in those days I had a very bad time. In the dry autumn, our collective farm settled early with the delivery of grain, and Uncle Vanya did not come again. I knew that at home my mother did not find a place for herself, worrying about me, but this did not make it easier for me. A sack of potatoes brought in last time uncle Vanya, evaporated so quickly, as if they were feeding, at least, cattle. It’s good that, having remembered, I guessed to hide a little in an abandoned shed standing in the yard, and now I lived only with this hiding place. After school, sneaking like a thief, I darted into the shed, put a few potatoes in my pocket, and ran out into the hills to start a fire somewhere in a comfortable and hidden lowland. I was hungry all the time, even in my sleep I felt convulsive waves rolling through my stomach.

Hoping to stumble upon a new group of players, I began to slowly explore the neighboring streets, wandered through wastelands, followed the guys who were drifting into the hills. It was all in vain, the season was over, the cold October winds were blowing. And only in our clearing the guys continued to gather. I was circling nearby, I saw how the puck flashed in the sun, how, waving his arms, Vadik was in command and familiar figures were leaning over the cash register.

In the end, I could not stand it and went down to them. I knew that I was going to be humiliated, but it was no less humiliating to accept once and for all the fact that I was beaten and kicked out. I was itching to see how Vadik and Ptah would react to my appearance and how I could behave. But most of all, it was hunger. I needed a ruble - no longer for milk, but for bread. I didn't know of any other way to get it.

I approached, and the game paused by itself, everyone stared at me. The bird was wearing a cap with turned-up ears, sitting, like everyone else on him, carefree and bold, in a checkered, loose-fitting shirt with short sleeves; Vadik forsil in a beautiful thick jacket with a lock. Nearby, piled in one heap, lay sweatshirts and coats, on them, huddled in the wind, sat a small boy, five or six years old.

Bird met me first:

What came? Haven't beaten in a while?

I came to play, - I answered as calmly as possible, looking at Vadik.

Who told you that with you, - Bird cursed, - they will play here?

What, Vadik, will we hit right away or will we wait a bit?

Why are you sticking to a man, Bird? - squinting at me, Vadik said. - Understood, a man came to play. Maybe he wants to win ten rubles from you and me?

You don't have ten rubles each, - just so as not to seem like a coward to myself, I said.

We have more than you dreamed of. Set, don't talk until Bird gets angry. And he is a hot man.

Give it to him, Vadik?

No, let him play. - Vadik winked at the guys. - He plays great, we are no match for him.

Now I was a scientist and understood what it was - Vadik's kindness. Apparently, he was tired of a boring, uninteresting game, therefore, in order to tickle his nerves and feel the taste of a real game, he decided to let me into it. But as soon as I touch his vanity, I'll be in trouble again. He will find something to complain about, next to him is Ptah.

I decided to play carefully and not to covet the cashier. Like everyone else, in order not to stand out, I rolled the puck, afraid of inadvertently hitting the money, then quietly bale the coins and look around to see if Ptah had come in from behind. In the first days I did not allow myself to dream of a ruble; twenty or thirty kopecks for a piece of bread, and that's good, and then give it here.

But what was supposed to happen sooner or later, of course, happened. On the fourth day, when, having won a ruble, I was about to leave, they beat me again. True, this time it was easier, but one trace remained: my lip was very swollen. At school, I had to bite her constantly. But no matter how I hid it, no matter how I bit it, Lidia Mikhailovna saw it. She deliberately called me to the blackboard and made me read the French text. I wouldn't be able to pronounce it correctly with ten healthy lips, and there's nothing to say about one.

Enough, oh, enough! - Lidia Mikhailovna was frightened and waved at me, as if at evil spirit, hands. - Yes, what is it? No, you will have to work separately. There is no other way out.

Thus began a painful and awkward day for me. Since the very morning, I have been waiting with fear for the hour when I will have to be alone with Lidia Mikhailovna, and, breaking my tongue, repeat after her words that are inconvenient for pronunciation, invented only for punishment. Well, why else, if not for mockery, merge three vowels into one thick viscous sound, the same “o”, for example, in the word “veaisoir” (a lot), which you can choke on? Why, with some kind of priston, let sounds through the nose, when from time immemorial it has served a person for a completely different need? What for? There must be limits to reason. I was covered with sweat, blushed and choked, and Lidia Mikhailovna, without respite and without pity, made me callous my poor tongue. And why me alone? There were all sorts of guys at school who spoke French no better than I did, but they walked free, did what they wanted, and I, like a damned one, took the rap for everyone.

It turned out that this is not the worst thing. Lidia Mikhailovna suddenly decided that we were running out of time at school until the second shift, and told me to come to her apartment in the evenings. She lived near the school, in teachers' houses. On the other, larger half of Lidia Mikhailovna's house, the director himself lived. I went there like torture. Already by nature timid and shy, lost at any trifle, in this clean, tidy apartment of the teacher, at first I literally turned to stone and was afraid to breathe. I had to speak so that I undressed, went into the room, sat down - I had to be moved like a thing, and almost by force to extract words from me. It didn't help my French at all. But, strange to say, we did less here than at school, where the second shift supposedly interfered with us. Moreover, Lidia Mikhailovna, bustling about the apartment, asked me questions or told me about herself. I suspect that she deliberately invented for me that she went to the French department only because she was not given this language at school either, and she decided to prove to herself that she could master it no worse than others.

Hiding in a corner, I listened, not waiting for tea when they let me go home. There were a lot of books in the room, a large beautiful radio set on the bedside table by the window; with a player - rare for those times, but for me it was an unprecedented miracle. Lidia Mikhailovna put on records, and the dexterous male voice again taught French. One way or another, there was nowhere for him to go. Lidia Mikhailovna, in a simple house dress, in soft felt shoes, walked around the room, making me shudder and freeze when she approached me. I could not believe that I was sitting in her house, everything here was too unexpected and unusual for me, even the air, saturated with light and unfamiliar smells of a different life than I knew. Involuntarily, a feeling was created, as if I were peeping into this life from the outside, and out of shame and embarrassment for myself, I wrapped myself even deeper into my short jacket.

Lidia Mikhailovna was then probably twenty-five or so; I remember well her regular and therefore not too lively face, with her eyes screwed up to hide the pigtail in them; tight, rarely revealed to the end smile and completely black, short hair. But with all this, one could not see the harshness in her face, which, as I later noticed, becomes over the years almost a professional sign of teachers, even the most kind and gentle by nature, but there was some kind of cautious, cunningly, bewilderment related to to herself and seemed to say: I wonder how I ended up here and what I'm doing here? Now I think that by that time she had managed to be married; in her voice, in her walk - soft, but confident, free, in her whole behavior, courage and experience were felt in her. And besides, I have always been of the opinion that girls who study French or Spanish become women earlier than their peers who study, say, Russian or German.

I am ashamed now to remember how frightened and lost I was when Lidia Mikhailovna, having finished our lesson, called me to supper. If I were a thousand times hungry, every appetite immediately jumped out of me like a bullet. Sit down at the same table with Lydia Mikhailovna! No no! I'd better learn all French by heart by tomorrow so that I never come here again. A piece of bread would probably really get stuck in my throat. It seems that before that I did not suspect that Lidia Mikhailovna, like all of us, eats the most ordinary food, and not some kind of manna from heaven - she seemed to me an extraordinary person, unlike everyone else.

I jumped up and, mumbling that I was full, that I didn’t want to, backed up along the wall to the exit. Lidia Mikhailovna looked at me with surprise and resentment, but it was impossible to stop me by any means. I ran. This was repeated several times, then Lidia Mikhailovna, in despair, stopped inviting me to the table. I breathed more freely.

Once I was told that downstairs, in the locker room, there was a package for me that some guy brought to school. Uncle Vanya, of course, is our driver - what a man! Probably, our house was closed, and Uncle Vanya could not wait for me from the lessons - so he left me in the locker room.

I hardly endured until the end of classes and rushed downstairs. Aunt Vera, the school cleaning lady, showed me a white plywood box in the corner, in which mail parcels are packed. I was surprised: why in a drawer? - Mother used to send food in an ordinary bag. Maybe it's not for me at all? No, my class and my last name were printed on the lid. Apparently, Uncle Vanya already wrote here - so as not to be confused for whom. What is this mother thought up to nail food in a box ?! Look how intelligent she has become!

I could not carry the parcel home without knowing what was in it: not that kind of patience. It is clear that there are no potatoes. For bread, the container is also, perhaps, too small, and inconvenient. In addition, bread was sent to me recently, I still had it. Then what is there? Immediately, at school, I climbed under the stairs, where, I remembered, there was an ax, and, having found it, I tore off the lid. It was dark under the stairs, I climbed back out and, furtively looking around, put the box on the nearest windowsill.

Looking into the parcel, I was stunned: on top, neatly covered with a large white sheet of paper, lay pasta. Blimey! Long yellow tubes, laid one to the other in even rows, flashed in the light with such wealth, which nothing more expensive for me existed. Now it’s clear why my mother packed the box: so that the pasta would not break, crumble, they would arrive to me safe and sound. I carefully took out one tube, looked, blew into it, and, unable to restrain myself any longer, began to grunt greedily. Then, in the same way, I took up the second, the third, thinking about where I could hide the box so that the pasta would not get to the overly voracious mice in my mistress's closet. Not for that mother bought them, spent the last money. No, I won't go for pasta that easily. This is not some potato for you.

And suddenly I choked. Pasta… Really, where did mother get pasta? We never had them in our village, you can't buy them there for any money. What is it then? Hastily, in desperation and hope, I sorted through the pasta and found at the bottom of the box several large lumps of sugar and two hematogen tiles. Hematogen confirmed that the parcel was not sent by the mother. Who, in this case, who? I looked at the lid again: my class, my last name - me. Interesting, very interesting.

I pressed the nails of the lid into place and, leaving the box on the windowsill, went up to the second floor and knocked on the staff room. Lidia Mikhailovna has already left. Nothing, we'll find it, we know where he lives, we've been. So, here's how: if you don't want to sit down at the table, get food at home. So yes. Will not work. No one else. This is not a mother: she would not forget to put a note, she would tell where, from what mines such wealth came from.

When I sideways climbed in with the parcel through the door, Lidia Mikhailovna pretended not to understand anything. She looked at the box, which I placed on the floor in front of her, and asked in surprise:

What's this? What is it you brought? What for?

You did it,” I said in a trembling, breaking voice.

What have I done? What are you talking about?

You sent this package to the school. I know you.

I noticed that Lidia Mikhailovna blushed and became embarrassed. This was the only, apparently, case when I was not afraid to look her straight in the eye. I didn't care if she was a teacher or my second cousin. Then I asked, not she, and asked not in French, but in Russian, without any articles. Let him answer.

Why did you think it was me?

Because we don't have any pasta there. And there is no hematogenous.

How! Doesn't happen at all? She was so sincerely surprised that she betrayed herself completely.

It doesn't happen at all. It was necessary to know.

Lidia Mikhailovna suddenly laughed and tried to hug me, but I pulled away. from her.

Indeed, you should have known. How am I like this?! She thought for a moment. - But here it was hard to guess - honestly! I'm a city person. Are you saying it doesn't happen at all? What happens to you then?

Peas happen. Radish happens.

Peas ... radish ... And we have apples in the Kuban. Oh, how many apples are there now. Today I wanted to go to the Kuban, but for some reason I came here. Lidia Mikhailovna sighed and glanced at me. - Do not get mad. I wanted the best. Who knew you could get caught eating pasta? Nothing, now I'll be smarter. Take this pasta...

I won’t take it,” I interrupted her.

Well, why are you like this? I know that you are hungry. And I live alone, I have a lot of money. I can buy whatever I want, but I'm the only one ... I eat a little, I'm afraid to get fat.

I'm not hungry at all.

Please don't argue with me, I know. I spoke to your mistress. What's wrong if you take this pasta now and cook yourself a good dinner today. Why can't I help you - for the only time in my life? I promise not to send any more packages. But please take this one. You have to eat enough to study. There are so many well-fed loafers in our school who don’t understand anything and probably never will, and you are a capable boy, you can’t leave school.

Her voice began to have a soporific effect on me; I was afraid that she would persuade me, and, angry with myself for understanding Lidia Mikhailovna's rightness, and for the fact that I was going to not understand her after all, I, shaking my head and muttering something, ran out the door.

Our lessons did not stop there, I continued to go to Lidia Mikhailovna. But now she took me for real. She apparently decided: well, French is French. True, the sense of this came out, gradually I began to pronounce French words quite tolerably, they no longer broke off at my feet with heavy cobblestones, but, ringing, tried to fly somewhere.

Good, - Lydia Mikhailovna encouraged me. - In this quarter, the five will not work yet, but in the next - for sure.

We did not remember the parcel, but just in case, I kept my guard. You never know what Lidia Mikhailovna will undertake to come up with? I knew from my own experience: when something doesn’t work out, you will do everything to make it work out, you just won’t give up. It seemed to me that Lidia Mikhailovna was looking at me expectantly all the time, and looking closely, chuckles at my wildness - I was angry, but this anger, oddly enough, helped me to be more confident. I was no longer that meek and helpless boy who was afraid to take a step here, little by little I got used to Lidia Mikhailovna and her apartment. Still, of course, I was shy, hiding in a corner, hiding my teals under a chair, but the former stiffness and oppression receded, now I myself dared to ask Lidia Mikhailovna questions and even enter into disputes with her.

She made another attempt to put me at the table - in vain. Here I was adamant, stubbornness in me was enough for ten.

Probably, it was already possible to stop these classes at home, I learned the most important thing, my tongue softened and moved, the rest would eventually be added at school lessons. Years and years ahead. What will I do then if I learn everything in one go from beginning to end? But I did not dare to tell Lidia Mikhailovna about this, and she, apparently, did not at all consider our program completed, and I continued to pull my French strap. However, a webbing? Somehow involuntarily and imperceptibly, without expecting it myself, I felt a taste for the language and in my free moments, without any prodding, I climbed into the dictionary, looked into the texts farther in the textbook. Punishment turned into pleasure. Ego also spurred me on: if it didn’t work out, it will work out, and it will work out - no worse than the best. From another test, or what? If it were not yet necessary to go to Lidia Mikhailovna ... I myself, myself ...

Once, about two weeks after the story with the parcel, Lidia Mikhailovna, smiling, asked:

So you don't play for money anymore? Or are you going somewhere on the sidelines and playing?

How to play now?! I wondered, looking out the window where the snow lay.

And what was that game? What is it?

Why do you need? I got worried.

Interesting. We used to play as children, so I want to know if this is a game or not. Tell me, tell me, don't be afraid.

I told him, omitting, of course, about Vadik, about Ptah and about my little tricks that I used in the game.

No, - Lidia Mikhailovna shook her head. - We played in the "wall". Do you know what it is?

Look. - She easily jumped out from behind the table at which she was sitting, found coins in her purse and pushed the chair away from the wall. - Come here, look. I bang the coin against the wall. - Lidia Mikhailovna lightly hit, and the coin, clinking, flew off to the floor in an arc. “Now,” Lidia Mikhailovna thrust a second coin into my hand, “you strike. But keep in mind: you need to beat so that your coin is as close as possible to mine. So that they can be measured, get them with the fingers of one hand. In another way, the game is called: freezing. If you get it, then you win. Bay.

I hit - my coin, hitting the edge, rolled into a corner.

Oh, - Lidia Mikhailovna waved her hand. - Long away. Now you are starting. Keep in mind: if my coin touches yours, even a little, by the edge, I win doubly. Understand?

What is not clear here?

Let's play?

I didn't believe my ears:

How can I play with you?

What is it?

You are a teacher!

So what? The teacher is a different person, isn't it? Sometimes you get tired of being only a teacher, teaching and teaching endlessly. Constantly pulling yourself up: this is impossible, this is impossible, - Lidia Mikhailovna screwed up her eyes more than usual and looked out the window thoughtfully, aloof. “Sometimes it’s useful to forget that you’re a teacher, otherwise you’ll become such a badass and beech that living people will get bored with you. Perhaps the most important thing for a teacher is not to take himself seriously, to understand that he can teach very little. - She shook herself and immediately cheered up. - And I was a desperate girl in childhood, my parents suffered with me. Even now I still often want to jump, jump, rush somewhere, do something not according to the program, not according to the schedule, but at will. I'm here, it happens, I jump, I jump. A person ages not when he lives to old age, but when he ceases to be a child. I would love to jump every day, but Vasily Andreevich lives behind the wall. He is a very serious person. In no case should he find out that we are playing "freeze".

But we don't play any "freezes". You just showed me.

We can play as easy as they say, make-believe. But you still don't betray me to Vasily Andreevich.

Lord, what is going on in the world! How long have I been scared to death that Lidia Mikhailovna would drag me to the director for playing for money, and now she asks me not to give her away. Doomsday - not otherwise. I looked around, frightened for some reason, and blinked my eyes in confusion.

Well, shall we try? If you don't like it - leave it.

Come on, I agreed hesitantly.

Get started.

We took the coins. It was evident that Lydia Mikhailovna had really played at one time, and I was just trying on the game, I had not yet figured out for myself how to beat a coin against a wall - whether edgewise or flat, at what height and with what force when is it better to throw . My blows went blind; if they had kept score, I would have lost quite a lot in the first minutes, although there was nothing tricky in these “squabbles”. Most of all, of course, what embarrassed and oppressed me, did not allow me to get used to the fact that I was playing with Lidia Mikhailovna. Not a single dream could dream of such a thing, not a single bad thought to think about it. I did not come to my senses immediately and not easily, but when I came to my senses and began to look at the game little by little, Lidia Mikhailovna took it and stopped it.

No, that's not interesting, - she said, straightening up and brushing her hair that had fallen over her eyes. - Play - so real, but the fact that we are like three-year-old kids.

But then it will be a game for money, - I timidly reminded.

Certainly. What are we holding in our hands? There is no other way to replace gambling with money. This is good and bad at the same time. We can agree on a very small rate, but there will still be interest.

I was silent, not knowing what to do and how to be.

Are you afraid? Lidia Mikhailovna encouraged me.

Here's another! I'm not afraid of anything.

I had some small things with me. I gave the coin to Lidia Mikhailovna and took mine out of my pocket. Well, let's play for real, Lidia Mikhailovna, if you like. Something to me - I was not the first to start. Vadik had zero attention to me either, and then he came to his senses, climbed with his fists. Learned there, learn here. It's not French, and I'll get French to my teeth soon.

I had to accept one condition: since Lydia Mikhailovna’s hand is larger and her fingers are longer, she will measure with her thumb and middle finger, and I, as expected, with my thumb and little finger. It was fair and I agreed.

The game restarted. We moved from the room to the hallway, where it was freer, and beat on a smooth wooden fence. They beat, knelt down, crawled on the floor, touching each other, stretched their fingers, measuring the coins, then again rising to their feet, and Lidia Mikhailovna announced the score. She played noisily: she screamed, clapped her hands, teased me - in a word, she behaved like an ordinary girl, not a teacher, I even wanted to shout at times. But nevertheless she won, and I lost. Before I had time to come to my senses, eighty kopecks ran into me, with great difficulty I managed to knock off this debt to thirty, but Lidia Mikhailovna from a distance hit mine with her coin, and the account immediately jumped to fifty. I started to worry. We agreed to pay at the end of the game, but if things continue like this, my money will not be enough very soon, I have a little more than a ruble. So, you can’t go over the ruble - otherwise it’s a shame, shame and shame for life.

And then I suddenly noticed that Lidia Mikhailovna was not even trying to beat me at all. When measuring, her fingers hunched over, not stretching out to their full length - where she allegedly could not reach the coin, I reached out without any effort. This offended me, and I got up.

No, I said, I don't play like that. Why are you playing along with me? It's not fair.

But I really can’t get them,” she began to refuse. - I have wooden fingers.

Okay, okay, I'll try.

I don't know how it is in mathematics, but in life the best proof is by contradiction. When the next day I saw that Lidia Mikhailovna, in order to touch the coin, surreptitiously pushes it to her finger, I was stunned. Looking at me and for some reason not noticing that I perfectly see her pure fraud, she continued to move the coin as if nothing had happened.

What are you doing? - I was indignant.

I AM? And what am I doing?

Why did you move her?

No, she was lying there, - in the most shameless way, with some kind of even joy, Lidia Mikhailovna opened the door no worse than Vadik or Ptakha.

Blimey! The teacher is called! I saw with my own eyes at a distance of twenty centimeters that she was touching a coin, and she assures me that she did not touch it, and even laughs at me. Does she take me for a blind man? For a little one? French language teaches, is called. I immediately completely forgot that just yesterday Lidia Mikhailovna tried to play along with me, and I only made sure that she did not deceive me. Well well! Lidia Mikhailovna, is called.

On this day we studied French for fifteen or twenty minutes, and then even less. We have another interest. Lidia Mikhailovna made me read the passage, made comments, listened to the comments again, and without delay we moved on to the game. After two small losses, I began to win. I quickly got used to the "freezes", figured out all the secrets, knew how and where to hit, what to do as a point guard, so as not to substitute my coin under the freeze.

And again I have money. Again I ran to the market and bought milk - now in ice cream mugs. I carefully cut off the influx of cream from the mug, put the crumbling ice slices into my mouth and, feeling their full sweetness all over my body, closed my eyes in pleasure. Then he turned the circle upside down and hollowed out the sweetish milk sludge with a knife. He allowed the leftovers to melt and drank them, eating them with a piece of black bread.

Nothing, it was possible to live, but in the near future, as soon as we heal the wounds of the war, they promised a happy time for everyone.

Of course, accepting money from Lidia Mikhailovna, I felt embarrassed, but each time I was reassured by the fact that this was an honest win. I never asked for a game, Lidia Mikhailovna suggested it herself. I didn't dare refuse. It seemed to me that the game gives her pleasure, she was cheerful, laughed, disturbed me.

We would like to know how it all ends ...

We are playing in the "wall", - Lydia Mikhailovna calmly answered.

Do you play for money with this? .. - Vasily Andreevich pointed his finger at me, and with fear I crawled behind the partition to hide in the room. - Are you playing with a student? Did I understand you correctly?

Right.

Well, you know... - The director was suffocating, he did not have enough air. - I'm at a loss to immediately name your act. It is a crime. Corruption. Seduction. And more, more ... I have been working at school for twenty years, I have seen everything, but this ...

And he raised his hands above his head.

Three days later, Lidia Mikhailovna left. The day before, she met me after school and walked me home.

I'll go to my place in the Kuban, - she said, saying goodbye. - And you study calmly, no one will touch you for this stupid case. It's my fault here. Learn, - she patted me on the head and left.

And I never saw her again.

In the middle of winter, after the January holidays, a parcel arrived at school by mail. When I opened it, taking out the ax again from under the stairs, there were tubes of pasta in neat, dense rows. And below, in a thick cotton wrapper, I found three red apples.

I used to see apples only in pictures, but I guessed that they were.

2 var. Night, fragrant…….

2. Control test work on the topic "Compound sentence" 21.10

Text

1. I studied well, but I didn’t get along well with French because of the pronunciation.2. I easily memorized the words, but the heady pronunciation betrayed my Angaran origin. 3. Lydia Mikhailovna, the French teacher, grimaced helplessly and closed her eyes.

4. “No, you will have to study separately,” she said.

5. So the painful days began for me. 6. I was covered with sweat, blushed and choked, and Lidia Mikhailovna, without respite, made me callous my poor tongue. Gradually, I began to pronounce French words quite tolerably, and they no longer broke off at my feet in heavy cobblestones, but, tinkling, tried to fly somewhere.

8. Probably, it was already possible to stop these classes at home, but I did not dare to tell Lidia Mikhailovna about this, and she, apparently, did not consider our program completed. 9. And I continued to pull my French strap.

10. However, is it a webbing? 11. Somehow, involuntarily and imperceptibly, I felt a taste for the language, and in my free moments, without any coercion, I climbed into the dictionary, looking into the distant texts of the textbook. 12. Punishment turned into pleasure. (According to V. Rasputin) (151 words)

Test

1. Indicate the erroneous judgment:

A) SSP is a sentence, the parts of which are connected by coordinating unions.

B) Parts of the SSP are separated by a comma, semicolon, dash.

C) A comma is not put between parts of the SSP if there is a common minor member.

D) Unions or, either in SSP express connecting relations.

2. Among sentences 1-7, find the SSP with opposing unions.

3. Indicate the number of grammatical bases in SSP No. 8

4. Specify the sentence corresponding to the scheme: [-=], and [-=].

5. Write down the grammatical foundations in the SSP No. 6.

7. Specify the number of SSPs in the text:

A) 4 B) 5 C) 6 D) 7

8. Indicate the correct description of sentence No. 1

A) simple;

B) simple, complicated by homogeneous members;

C) complex non-union;

D) SSP.

9. Find a sentence that matches the characteristic: this is a complex sentence consisting of two parts with a connecting union. The first sentence is simple, two-part, common, the second is two-part, common, complicated by homogeneous predicates and a circumstance expressed by a gerund.

10. Prove, using the example of one SSP from the text, that in such constructions it is possible to rearrange both parts without violating the meaning and structure of the complex whole.

3. Brief summary of the text journalistic style 18.11.

Listen to the text and write a concise summary. Please note that you must convey the main content of both each microtopic and the entire text as a whole. The volume of presentation is not less than 70 words.

Nothing is valued by the people around us as dearly as politeness and delicacy. But in life we ​​have to deal with rudeness, harshness, disrespect. The reason here is that we underestimate the culture of human behavior, his manners.

Manners are a way to behave, an external form of behavior, expressions used in speech, tone. Intonation, gestures and even facial expressions. In society, modesty and restraint, the ability to control one's actions, to communicate carefully and tactfully with other people are considered good manners. It is customary to consider bad manners to be swagger in gestures and behavior, slovenliness in clothes, rudeness, manifested in disregard for other people's interests and requests, in the shameless imposition of one's will and desires on other people, in the inability to restrain one's irritation, in tactlessness, foul language, the use of humiliating nicknames, nicknames.

A. In order to truly play any role, you first need to find the grain of the artistic image.

B. I especially like the nightingale's singing, when the stars shine overhead and everything in the forest falls silent.

Q. When asked questions, Dersu explained that if the fog rises in calm weather, one must definitely expect a lingering rain.

11. Write down the sentence, put punctuation marks.

The ability to say exactly what is needed and just so that we are listened to and understood is without a doubt a great skill that is given to very few and which no one has the right to neglect.

12. Come up with beginnings and write down the suggestions received.

Ah… as if he wanted to tell me something.

B. ... that they listened without saying a word.

13. Complete a complex sentence. Specify the type of adjective.

A. Please find out…

B. Since we settled by the lake, ...

B. The girl smiled so sweetly, ...

G. I like songs…

I Ioption

1. Find a complex sentence.

A. Truth is as necessary to a man as a guide is to a blind man.

B. The bridge was demolished during the flood, and we had to make a big detour.

V. The stork, as popular belief says, guards happiness, keeping out trouble.

G. Who is not lazy to plow, that bread will be born.

2. Read the sentence Only by exploring some piece of our land, one can understand how our hearts are attached to each of its paths, springs and even the timid squeaking of a forest bird. The adverbial clause in it is ...

Russian language lesson in 9th grade.

Repetition and generalization of what was studied on the topic "Compound sentence".

Target:

1) to know the distinguishing features of a compound sentence, to understand the semantic relationships between the parts of the BSC, to determine the means of their expression;

2) develop the skills of punctuation and syntactic analysis of the BSC, linguistic analysis of the text, including from the point of view of the syntax of the BSC;

3) develop skills in creating oral and written monologues on moral and ethical topics using the BSC;

4) to cultivate a sense of artistic taste, respect and love for native nature, the ability to listen and hear someone else's opinion.

Lesson type: lesson of systematization and generalization of knowledge.

Equipment: multimedia presentation for the lesson, printouts of texts.

During the classes:

1. Organizing time. Introduction by the teacher. (Slide 1)

Good morning, guys! With the beginning of a new working quarter! I hope you had a good holiday and had a good rest. With renewed vigor, we begin our lesson. Fall on the calendar. How not to remember the lines of S. Yesenin:

The golden grove dissuaded Beryozov, cheerful language, Cranes, sadly flying, Do not regret anyone else. I stand alone in the middle of the naked plain, And the wind carries the cranes away, I am full of thoughts about my cheerful youth, But I do not regret anything in the past.

What is the poem about? What is the theme of this poem? (Theme: autumn) Not every person can appreciate the beauty that surrounds us. But for a poet, an artist, nature is a source of joy and inspiration. And for our lessons works of art- practical material for work.

Are there compound sentences in these lines? Find them.

For some time we have been talking about compound sentences. In the next lesson, we will write a control dictation on this topic. Try to formulate the purpose of our today's lesson. (Setting the goals of the lesson by the students themselves).

Teacher:

You have the opportunity to show your knowledge, as well as the ability to work in a team.

Work in a notebook. Record the topic of the lesson: Repetition and generalization on the topic "Compound sentence" (Slide 2)

Teacher: Formulate the objectives of our lesson. 1. Recall what complex sentences are, what are the signs of a compound sentence and the means of communication between parts of the BSC.

2. Work on the topic of the lesson.

- Tell us about the main types of complex sentences. (Slide 3)

Here is a slide with suggestions. Name a compound sentence. Justify your answer. Let's write down the sentence, highlight the basis, indicate the meaning of the union.

A) The moon was shining, the September night was quiet, a breeze occasionally rose, a slight rustle ran through the entire forest.

B) Through the window, I saw a large gray bird perched on a maple branch in the garden.

C) High on the tops of the trees, a bright golden light trembled in some places and shimmered like a rainbow in the webs of a spider.

D) Autumn modestly entered the birch grove, lay down, and immediately everything around was dressed in a golden outfit.

- Tell us about groups of coordinating conjunctions. (Slide 4)

you see on the slide simple sentences. It is necessary to make compound sentences from them with unions of different groups. Specify the value of the union.

a) It is quiet in the forest. It smells of mushrooms and rotten needles.

B) A gray web twists. You can feel the breath of autumn.

C) Too cold. It is raining slightly.

It is necessary to divide these proposals into 3 groups:

1 row - write down sentences in which coordinating conjunctions connect both homogeneous members and simple sentences; highlight the grammatical basis and homogeneous members of sentences.

2nd row - write down sentences in which coordinating conjunctions connect homogeneous members of the sentence, highlight the grammatical basis and conjunctions.

3rd row - write down sentences in which coordinating conjunctions connect simple sentences and form compound structures, highlight grammatical foundations and conjunctions.

1. Winter modestly entered the birch grove, subsided, and immediately everything around sparkled and turned white.

2. There was a large, fluffy snow and painted the pavement, horse backs, cab drivers' hats in white. (A.P. Chekhov)

3. The moon was shining, the July night was quiet, a breeze occasionally rose, and a slight rustle ran throughout the garden. (A.S. Pushkin)

4. The rain lost its constancy and went in gusts, turning into a downpour, then into a drizzle (V.K. Arseniev)

5. Again, there was a calm on the lake, and the sun plunged into the gray ash of clouds (K.G. Paustovsky)

6. The forest smells like oak and pine.

During the summer it dried up from the sun,

And autumn is a quiet widow

He enters his motley tower. (A.S. Pushkin)

We continue to work with proposals. It is necessary to rebuild simple sentences with homogeneous members into compound sentences. (Slide 5)

1. It started to rain heavily and quickly wet everything around.

2. Roses bloomed wonderfully and delighted the little mistress.

3. The moon shone through the window and filled the room with cold light.

Is there always a comma between parts of a compound sentence? (Slide 6)

From the proposed compound sentences, you need to choose one in which a comma is not placed between the parts. (No punctuation marks).

A) It began to rain heavily and everything around quickly got wet.

B) At this time of the year, mountain rivers are treacherous and the water in them is especially cold and clear.

C) Summer comes out of spring and leaves late in autumn.

D) The water receded and the pavement opened when the rains ended.

Try to compose such a complex sentence yourself, in which a comma is not placed between the parts. Who will write the sentence on the blackboard?

We are preparing for the final certification. Let me remind you of the algorithm for completing task B7 of the GIA in the Russian language, which tests your knowledge on the topic of the BSC.

Algorithm:

Read the task carefully, pay attention to the key words:

Number or numbers

Between parts of the SSP!

Find coordinating conjunctions

Determine the type of sentence (simple or complex)

Pay attention to punctuation marks.

See what the coordinating conjunctions link.

Write the number or numbers.

1. In the sentences below, all commas are numbered. Write down the numbers denoting commas between parts of a compound sentence.

The boy followed the rare clouds with his eyes, (1) and his gaze slid over the tops of tall pines, (2) along the ridges of the roofs. The gaze fell lower, (3) lower, (4) stopped on a small parachute, (5) and it seemed to me (6) that the boy had already known the answer to this question for a long time.

2. In the sentences below, all commas are numbered. Write down the number indicating the comma between the parts of the compound sentence.

The guys left, (1) and the house became emphatically quiet; (2) Baba Nastasya returned to the table, sat down on a bench. Before her lay a letter,(3) which she knew by heart.

- While they were making sentences, the teacher distributes cards with sentences.

It is necessary to distribute these proposals into 3 groups according to the types of unions:

1 row finds sentences with connecting unions,

2 row - with opposing unions,

3 row - with opposing alliances

1. Not only was there no fish, but the rod did not even have a fishing line.

2. Either eat a fish or run aground.

3. Ivan Petrovich left, but I stayed.

4. It rained in the morning, but now a clear sky shone above us.

5. Her face is pale, slightly parted lips also turned pale.

6. Not that he envied Natalia, not that he regretted him.

7. He didn’t like jokes, and they left her alone with him.

8. I didn’t eat anything, but I didn’t feel hungry.

9. Whether the silence affected him, or he suddenly

looked with different eyes at the situation that had become familiar.

- Now we will write down the sentences and build their schemes. We work at the blackboard and in notebooks.

1. The days of late autumn are usually scolded, but she is sweet to me, dear reader.

2. The stars were burning in the sky and the moon was shining.

3. Now it seemed to fall like a fog, then suddenly it allowed an oblique heavy rain.

- Independent work with text.

I studied well, but with French I did not get along because of the pronunciation. I easily memorized the words, but the heady pronunciation betrayed my Angaran origin. Lidia Mikhailovna, the French teacher, grimaced helplessly and closed her eyes.

“No, you will have to study separately,” she said.

Thus began my painful days. I was covered with sweat, blushed and choked, and Lidia Mikhailovna, without respite, made me callous on my poor tongue. Gradually, I began to pronounce French words quite tolerably, and they no longer broke off at my feet in heavy cobblestones, but, tinkling, tried to fly somewhere.

It was probably already possible to stop these classes at home, but I did not dare to tell Lydia about this.

Mikhailovna, but apparently she did not consider our program completed. And I kept pulling on my French strap.

However, a webbing? Somehow, involuntarily and imperceptibly, I felt a taste for the language, and in my free moments, without any coercion, I climbed into the dictionary, looking into the distant texts of the textbook. Punishment turned into pleasure.

(According to V. Rasputin)

1. Determine the topic and idea of ​​the text, type and style. (A text about the difficulties of learning French. The idea is that gradually the punishment turned into pleasure. The type of speech is narrative, artistic style).

2. Find the SSP in the text, underline their grammatical foundations, indicate the meaning of unions ..

3. Find a sentence that matches the characteristic: this is a complex sentence consisting of two parts with a connecting union. (The first sentence is simple, two-part, common, the second is two-part, common, complicated by homogeneous predicates and a circumstance expressed by a gerund.)

4. Parse it. Sketch it out.

- Creative task.

Write compound sentences with different conjunctions using these words and phrases. Try to get the text right. Of all the words, you choose those that will match the topic of your text.

Autumn. Leaf fall. Golden time. Flocks of birds. Rain of leaves. Cloudy sky. Light cold rain. Mushroom time. The indescribable smell of the forest. Harsh wind. Clear sun. Farewell chirping of cranes. Puddles covered with brittle ice. Bright brushes of mountain ash and viburnum. Thick fog.

3. Homework: repeat everything about SSP, execute test on the topic "Compound sentence" 1. Define a complex sentence. A) Great, true deeds are always simple, modest. C) The Cossack does not want to rest either in an open field, or in an oak forest, or at a dangerous crossing. C) Everything is clear to him: the noise of the forest, and the brilliance of the water on the river, and the blue of the sky. D) Deeds are not created for thought, but thoughts are created for deeds. E) Among the birds, insects, in dry grass - in a word, the approach of autumn was felt everywhere. 2. Define a compound sentence. A) It is very difficult to describe the feeling that I experienced at that time. C) But the river itself was not visible: it was hiding behind a grove. C) The green light went out, and no shadows could be seen. E) I passed by a bush where a nightingale sang. 3. Define a compound sentence in which events occur simultaneously. A) The life of birds began to fade, but the life of large tetrapods began to wake up. C) Either the sun shines dimly, then a black cloud hangs. C) Either I don't understand, or you don't want to understand me. D) Nina looks first at Lyubka, then at Olya. E) People were very hungry, the horses also needed rest. 4. Define a compound sentence with a connecting union: A) The illuminated window on the third floor knocked and opened, and we saw the dark head of Asya. C) The hunter laid and carried stones without rest. C) The forest is silent, but this silence is not the same, but alive, waiting. D) They looked first at us, then at the smoke from the hearths rising into the sky. E) Either it was early morning, or it was already evening. 5. Define a compound sentence with an adversative conjunction: A) Thunder passed through the sky, and the clouds, like birds, rushed against the wind with a cry. C) Either it was early morning, or it was already evening. C) The wind rustled in the acacias, and thunder swept over the sea like a cannon blow. D) The wind will blow, and the pines will hum like bells. E) That dim sun shines, then a black cloud hangs. 6. Define a compound sentence with a separating union: A) The lilac begins to smell, and the yellow acacia blossoms. C) Blue silence hung in the trees, and weeping birches lowered their green braids down. C) Only occasionally will the old willows rustle, or the plane hoots high above the house. D) The first frost is enough, but it is dripping from the sky from somewhere. E) Distant mountains looming, and gently sloping hills turn yellow. 7. Define a complex sentence. A) There was not a single fire anywhere in the city, not a single living soul. C) All day the pelican wandered around us, hissed and screamed, but did not give up. C) She spoke dull or tired, very slowly and distinctly. D) Go to the fire for the honor of the motherland, for beliefs, for love. E) By evening, the sky cleared of clouds, and the night promised to be cold. 8. Define a compound sentence with only a connecting union. A) The nightingales had long ceased to sing, and the drowsy whistle of a startled bird only aggravated the silence. C) The music is blaring and the dancing couples are spinning faster and faster. C) Either the wind will blow and touch the tops of the birches, or the frogs will rustle in last year's grass. D) The night has just embraced the sky, and Bulba has already gone to bed. E) The sea was thrown with yellow foam, and by noon it rose in muddy smooth waves. 9. Define a compound sentence. A) I walked past a bush where a nightingale sang. C) It is very difficult to describe the feeling I experienced at that time. C) The grove did not make a sound, and something proud, strong, mysterious was felt in this silence. D) It was not in vain that the winds blew, it was not in vain that there was a thunderstorm. E) But the river itself was not visible: it was hiding behind a grove 10. Define a compound sentence with a connecting union: A) Frosts all the time were crackling, and the winter dragged on. C) Either it was early morning, or it was already evening. C) They looked first at us, then at the smoke from the hearths rising into the sky. D) The forest is silent, but this silence is not the same, but alive, waiting. E) The hunter laid and carried stones without rest. Key to the test

Strange: why do we, just like before our parents, every time feel guilty before our teachers? And not for what happened at school - no, but for what happened to us after.

I went to the fifth grade in forty-eight. It would be more correct to say, I went: in our village there was only an elementary school, therefore, in order to study further, I had to equip myself from a house fifty kilometers away to the regional center. A week earlier, my mother had gone there, agreed with her friend that I would lodge with her, and on the last day of August, Uncle Vanya, the driver of the only lorry on the collective farm, unloaded me on Podkamennaya Street, where I was to live, helped bring a bundle of bed, patted him on the shoulder reassuringly and drove off. So, at the age of eleven, my independent life began.

The hunger that year had not yet let go, and my mother had three of us, I was the oldest. In the spring, when it was especially hard, I swallowed myself and forced my sister to swallow the eyes of sprouted potatoes and grains of oats and rye in order to dilute the plantings in the stomach - then I would not have to think about food all the time. All summer we diligently watered our seeds with pure Angarsk water, but for some reason we did not wait for the harvest, or it was so small that we did not feel it. However, I think that this idea is not entirely useless and someday it will come in handy for a person, and due to inexperience, we did something wrong there.

It is hard to say how my mother decided to let me go to the district (the district center was called the district). We lived without a father, lived very badly, and she, apparently, reasoned that it would not be any worse - there was nowhere. I studied well, I went to school with pleasure, and in the village I was recognized as a literate person: I wrote for old women and read letters, went through all the books that ended up in our unprepossessing library, and in the evenings told all sorts of stories from them to the children, adding more from myself. But they especially believed in me when it came to bonds. People accumulated a lot of them during the war, the tables of winnings came often, and then the bonds were carried to me. I thought I had a lucky eye. Winnings really did happen, most often small ones, but the collective farmer in those years was happy with any penny, and here completely unexpected luck fell out of my hands. The joy from her involuntarily fell to me. I was singled out from the village children, they even fed me; Once, Uncle Ilya, a generally stingy, stingy old man, having won four hundred rubles, in the heat of the moment he gave me a bucket of potatoes - in the spring it was a considerable wealth.

And all because I understood bond numbers, mothers said:

- Your brainy guy is growing. You are ... let's teach him. Gratitude will not go to waste.

And my mother, in spite of all the misfortunes, gathered me together, although before that no one from our village in the region had studied. I was first. Yes, I did not understand properly what was ahead of me, what trials awaited me, my dear, in a new place.

I studied here and it's good. What was left for me? - then I came here, I didn’t have anything else to do here, and then I still didn’t know how to treat everything that was entrusted to me in a slipshod manner. I would hardly have dared to go to school if I had not learned at least one lesson, so in all subjects except French, I kept fives.

I didn't get along well with French because of the pronunciation. I easily memorized words and phrases, quickly translated, coped well with the difficulties of spelling, but pronunciation with a head betrayed all my Angaran origin right up to the last generation, where no one ever pronounces foreign words, if at all suspected of their existence. I sputtered in French in the manner of our village tongue twisters, swallowing half of the sounds as unnecessary, and blurting out the other half in short barking bursts. Lidia Mikhailovna, the French teacher, listened to me, wincing helplessly and closing her eyes. Of course, I've never heard of anything like it. Again and again she showed how to pronounce nasals, vowel combinations, asked me to repeat - I was lost, my tongue was stiff in my mouth and did not move. Everything was wasted. But the worst thing happened when I came home from school. There I was involuntarily distracted, all the time I had to do something, there the guys bothered me, together with them - like it or not - I had to move, play, and in the classroom - work. But as soon as I was left alone, melancholy immediately piled up - longing for home, for the village. Never before, even for a day, had I been absent from my family and, of course, I was not ready to live among strangers. I felt so bad, so bitter and disgusted! - worse than any disease. I wanted only one thing, I dreamed of one thing - home and home. I lost a lot of weight; my mother, who arrived at the end of September, was afraid for me. With her, I strengthened myself, did not complain and did not cry, but when she began to leave, I could not stand it and chased the car with a roar. Mother waved her hand to me from the back so that I would be behind, not to disgrace myself and her, I did not understand anything. Then she made up her mind and stopped the car.

"Come on," she demanded as I approached. Enough, weaned, let's go home.

I came to my senses and ran away.

But I lost weight not only because of homesickness. In addition, I was constantly malnourished. In the autumn, while Uncle Vanya was taking bread on his lorry to Zagotzerno, which was not far from the district center, food was sent to me quite often, about once a week. But the problem is that I missed her. There was nothing there but bread and potatoes, and occasionally her mother stuffed cottage cheese into a jar, which she took from someone for something: she did not keep a cow. They bring it - it seems a lot, you'll miss it in two days - it's empty. I very soon began to notice that a good half of my bread was disappearing somewhere in the most mysterious way. Checked - it is: it was - no. The same thing happened with potatoes. Whether it was Aunt Nadya, a noisy, overwrought woman who was running around alone with three children, one of her older girls or her younger one, Fedka, I didn’t know, I was afraid to even think about it, let alone watch. It was just a shame that my mother, for my sake, tears the last thing from her own, from her sister and brother, but it still goes by. But I forced myself to come to terms with it. It will not be easier for the mother if she hears the truth.

The famine here was not at all like the famine in the countryside. There, always, and especially in autumn, it was possible to intercept, pluck, dig, lift something, fish walked in the Angara, a bird flew in the forest. Here everything around me was empty: strange people, strange vegetable gardens, strange land. A small river for ten rows was filtered with nonsense. I once sat with a fishing rod all day on Sunday and caught three small, about a teaspoon, minnows - you won’t get good from such fishing either. I didn’t go anymore - what a waste of time to translate! In the evenings, he hung around at the teahouse, at the market, remembering what they sell for how much, choked on saliva and walked back with nothing. Aunt Nadia had a hot kettle on the stove; throwing boiled water over the naked man and warming his stomach, he went to bed. Back to school in the morning. And so he lived up to that happy hour, when a lorry and a half drove up to the gate and Uncle Vanya knocked on the door. Hungry and knowing that my grub would still not last long, no matter how much I saved it, I ate to satiety, to pain and stomach, and then, after a day or two, again planted my teeth on the shelf.

Once, back in September, Fedka asked me:

- Are you afraid to play "chika"?

- In what "chika"? I didn't understand.

- This is the game. For money. If we have money, let's go play.

- I don't have either. Let's go, let's take a look. See how great it is.

Fedka took me to the gardens. We walked along the edge of an oblong, ridged hill, completely overgrown with nettles, already black, tangled, with drooping poisonous clusters of seeds; We approached. The guys were worried. All of them were about the same age as me, except for one - a tall and strong, noticeable for his strength and power, a guy with a long red bang. I remembered: he went to the seventh grade.

Why did you bring this one? he said discontentedly to Fedka.

“He is his own, Vadik, his own,” Fedka began to justify himself. - He lives with us.

- Will you play? Vadik asked me.

- There is no money.

“Look, don’t yell to anyone that we’re here.

- Here's another! I was offended.

No one paid any more attention to me, I stepped aside and began to observe. Not everyone played - sometimes six, sometimes seven, the rest just stared, rooting mainly for Vadik. He was in charge here, I understood it at once.

It didn't cost anything to figure out the game. Each staked ten kopecks on the bet, a stack of coins was lowered tails up onto a platform bounded by a bold line about two meters from the cash register, and on the other side, from a boulder that had grown into the ground and served as an emphasis for the front foot, they threw a round stone washer. You had to throw it in such a way that it rolled as close as possible to the line, but did not go beyond it - then you got the right to be the first to break the cash register. They beat him with the same puck, trying to turn it over. eagle coins. Turned over - yours, beat further, no - give this right to the next one. But it was considered most important of all when throwing the puck to cover the coins, and if at least one of them turned out to be on the eagle, the entire cash register went into your pocket without talking, and the game began again.

Vadik was cunning. He walked to the boulder after everyone else, when the full picture of the turn was before his eyes and he saw where to throw to get ahead. The money went first, it rarely reached the last. Probably, everyone understood that Vadik was cunning, but no one dared to tell him about it. True, he played well. Approaching the stone, he squatted a little, squinted, pointed the puck at the target and slowly, smoothly straightened up - the puck slipped out of his hand and flew where he was aiming. With a quick movement of his head, he tossed the bangs that had gone down, casually spat to the side, showing that the deed was done, and with a lazy, deliberately slow step stepped towards the money. If they were in a heap, he hit sharply, with a ringing sound, but he touched single coins with a puck carefully, with a knurling, so that the coin would not beat and spin in the air, but, not rising high, would just roll over to the other side. Nobody else could do that. The guys hit at random and took out new coins, and those who had nothing to get, turned into spectators.

It seemed to me that if I had money, I could play. In the countryside, we fiddled with grandmothers, but even there you need an accurate eye. And besides, I liked to invent for myself amusements for accuracy: I will pick up a handful of stones, find a harder target and throw it at it until I achieve the full result - ten out of ten. He threw both from above, from behind his shoulder, and from below, hanging a stone over the target. So I had some flair. There was no money.

Mother sent me bread because we had no money, otherwise I would have bought it here too. Where can they get on the collective farm? Still, twice she put me five in a letter - for milk. For the present it is fifty kopecks, you can’t get hold of it, but all the same, money, you could buy five half-liter cans of milk at the market, at a ruble per jar. I was ordered to drink milk from anemia, I often suddenly felt dizzy for no reason at all.

But, having received a five for the third time, I did not go for milk, but exchanged it for a trifle and went to the dump. The place here was chosen sensibly, you can’t say anything: the clearing, closed by hills, was not visible from anywhere. In the village, in full view of adults, such games were chased, threatened by the director and the police. Nobody bothered us here. And not far, in ten minutes you will reach.

The first time I lost ninety kopecks, the second - sixty. Of course, it was a pity for the money, but I felt that I was adjusting to the game, my hand was gradually getting used to the puck, I was learning to release exactly as much force as needed to make the puck go right, my eyes also learned to know in advance where it would fall and how much more roll across the ground. In the evenings, when everyone left, I returned here again, took out the puck hidden by Vadik from under the stone, raked out my change from my pocket and threw it until it got dark. I made sure that out of ten throws, three or four guessed exactly for the money.

And finally the day came when I won.

Autumn was warm and dry. Even in October it was so warm that one could walk in a shirt, the rains fell rarely and seemed random, inadvertently brought from somewhere out of bad weather by a weak tail breeze. The sky was turning blue quite like summer, but it seemed to have become narrower, and the sun was setting early. In clear hours the air smoked over the hills, carrying the bitter, intoxicating smell of dry wormwood, distant voices sounded clearly, flying birds screamed. The grass in our clearing, yellowed and smoky, nevertheless remained alive and soft, free from the game, or rather, lost guys, were busy on it.

Now I come here every day after school. The guys changed, newcomers appeared, and only Vadik did not miss a single game. She didn't start without him. Behind Vadik, like a shadow, followed a big-headed, short-haired, stocky guy, nicknamed Ptah. At school, I had never met Ptah before, but, looking ahead, I’ll say that in the third quarter, he suddenly, like snow on his head, fell on our class. It turns out that he stayed in the fifth for the second year and, under some pretext, gave himself a vacation until January. Ptakha also usually won, although not in the same way as Vadik, less, but did not remain at a loss. Yes, because, probably, he did not stay, because he was at the same time with Vadik and he slowly helped him.

From our class, Tishkin sometimes ran into the clearing, a fussy boy with blinking eyes who liked to raise his hand in class. He knows, he doesn't know, he still pulls. Called - silent.

Why did you raise your hand? Tishkin is asked.

He slapped his little eyes:
- I remembered, but while I was getting up, I forgot.

I didn't make friends with him. From timidity, taciturnity, excessive rural isolation, and most importantly - from wild homesickness, which did not leave any desires in me, I did not get along with any of the guys then. They were not drawn to me either, I remained alone, not understanding and not singling out loneliness from my bitter situation: alone - because here, and not at home, not in the village, I have many comrades there.

Tishkin didn't even seem to notice me in the clearing. Having quickly lost, he disappeared and did not appear again soon.

And I won. I began to win constantly, every day. I had my own calculation: no need to roll the puck around the court, seeking the right to the first shot; when there are many players, it is not easy: the closer you reach for the line, the greater the danger of going over it and remaining last. It is necessary to cover the cash register when throwing. So I did. Of course, I took a risk, but with my skill it was a justified risk. I could lose three, four times in a row, but on the fifth, having taken the cashier, I returned my loss three times. Lost again and returned again. I rarely had to hit the puck on the coins, but even here I used my own trick: if Vadik rolled over myself, on the contrary, I baled away from myself - it was so unusual, but the puck held the coin in this way, did not let it spin and, moving away, turned over after itself.

Now I have money. I did not allow myself to get too carried away with the game and hang around in the clearing until the evening, I needed only a ruble, every day for a ruble. Having received it, I ran away, bought a jar of milk at the market (the aunts grumbled, looking at my bent, beaten, torn coins, but they poured milk), dined and sat down for lessons. All the same, I didn’t eat my fill, but the mere thought that I was drinking milk added strength to me and subdued my hunger. It seemed to me that my head was now spinning much less.

At first, Vadik was calm about my winnings. He himself was not at a loss, and from his pockets it is unlikely that I got anything. Sometimes he even praised me: here, they say, how to quit, study, muffins. However, soon Vadik noticed that I was leaving the game too quickly, and one day he stopped me:

- What are you - grabbing the cash register and tearing up? Look what a smart one! Play.
“I need to do my homework, Vadik,” I began to make excuses.
Whoever needs to do homework doesn't come here.

And Bird sang:
- Who told you that they play for money like that? For this, you want to know, they beat a little. Understood?

Vadik didn't give me the puck before him anymore and let me get to the stone only last. He shot well, and often I reached into my pocket for a new coin without touching the puck. But I threw better, and if I got the opportunity to throw, the puck, like a magnet, flew like a money. I myself was surprised at my accuracy, I should have guessed to hold it back, play more inconspicuously, but I ingenuously and ruthlessly continued to bomb the box office. How was I to know that no one has ever been forgiven if he is ahead in his work? Then do not expect mercy, do not seek intercession, for others he is an upstart, and the one who follows him hates him most of all. I had to comprehend this science in my own skin that autumn.

I had just hit the money again and was going to collect it when I noticed that Vadik had stepped on one of the scattered coins. All the rest were upside down. In such cases, when throwing, they usually shout “to the warehouse!”, so that - if there is no eagle - to collect the money in one heap for the strike, but, as always, I hoped for luck and did not shout.

- Not in the warehouse! Vadik announced.

I approached him and tried to move his foot off the coin, but he pushed me away, quickly grabbed it from the ground and showed me tails. I managed to notice that the coin was on the eagle - otherwise he would not have closed it.

“You turned her over,” I said. - She was on an eagle, I saw.

He thrust his fist under my nose.

- Didn't you see this? Smell what it smells like.

I had to reconcile. It was pointless to insist on one's own; if a fight starts, no one, not a single soul will intercede for me, not even Tishkin, who was spinning right there.

Vadik's evil, narrowed eyes looked at me point-blank. I bent down, tapped the nearest coin softly, turned it over and moved the second one. “Hlizda will lead you to the truth,” I decided. “I’ll take them all now anyway.” Again he pointed the puck for a hit, but he didn’t have time to lower it: someone suddenly gave me a strong knee from behind, and I awkwardly, bowed my head down, poked into the ground. Laughed around.

Behind me, smiling expectantly, stood Bird. I was taken aback:

— What-about you?!
Who told you it was me? he answered. - Did you dream, or what?
- Come here! - Vadik extended his hand for the puck, but I did not give it away. Resentment overwhelmed me with fear of nothing in the world, I was no longer afraid. For what? Why are they doing this to me? What did I do to them?
- Come here! Vadik demanded.
You flipped that coin! I called out to him. - I saw that it turned over. Saw.
“Come on, repeat it,” he asked, advancing on me.
“You turned her over,” I said more quietly, knowing full well what would follow.

First, again from behind, I was hit by Ptah. I flew at Vadik, he quickly and deftly, without trying on, poked me with his head in the face, and I fell, blood spurted from my nose. As soon as I jumped up, Ptah attacked me again. It was still possible to break free and run away, but for some reason I did not think about it. I twirled between Vadik and Ptah, almost not defending myself, holding my hand to my nose, from which blood was gushing, and in despair, adding to their rage, stubbornly shouting the same thing:

- Flipped over! Flipped over! Flipped over!

They beat me in turn, one and a second, one and a second. Someone third, small and vicious, kicked my legs, then they were almost completely covered with bruises. I tried only not to fall, not to fall again for anything, even in those moments it seemed to me a shame. But in the end they knocked me to the ground and stopped.

"Get out of here while you're alive!" Vadik commanded. - Quickly!

I got up and, sobbing, tossing my dead nose, trudged up the mountain.

“Just blather to someone—we’ll kill you!” Vadik promised me after.

I didn't answer. Everything in me somehow hardened and closed in resentment, I did not have the strength to get a word out of myself. And, only having climbed the mountain, I could not resist and, as if foolish, I shouted at the top of my lungs - so that the whole village probably heard:

- I'll turn it over!

Ptakha was about to rush after me, but immediately returned - apparently, Vadik decided that enough was enough for me, and stopped him. For about five minutes I stood and, sobbing, looked at the clearing, where the game began again, then went down the other side of the hill to a hollow, tightened around with black nettles, fell on the hard dry grass and, not holding back any longer, wept bitterly, sobbing.

There was not and could not be in the whole wide world a person more unfortunate than me.

In the morning I looked at myself in the mirror with fear: my nose was swollen and swollen, there was a bruise under my left eye, and below it, on my cheek, there was a fat bloody abrasion. I had no idea how to go to school in this form, but somehow I had to go, skipping classes for whatever reason, I did not dare. Let’s say that people’s noses and naturally happen to be cleaner than mine, and if it weren’t for the usual place, you would never guess that this is a nose, but nothing can justify an abrasion and a bruise: it’s immediately obvious that they show off here not of my good will.

Shielding my eye with my hand, I darted into the classroom, sat down at my desk and lowered my head. The first lesson, unfortunately, was French. Lidia Mikhailovna, by right of a class teacher, was more interested in us than other teachers, and it was difficult to hide anything from her. She came in, greeted us, but before seating the class, she had a habit of carefully examining almost each of us, making supposedly playful, but obligatory remarks. And, of course, she immediately saw the marks on my face, even though I hid them as best I could; I realized this because the guys began to turn around on me.

"Well, here you are," said Lidia Mikhailovna, opening the magazine. “There are wounded among us today.

The class laughed, and Lidia Mikhailovna looked up at me again. They mowed at her and looked as if past, but by that time we had already learned to recognize where they were looking.

- What happened? she asked.

“He fell,” I blurted out, for some reason not guessing in advance to come up with even the slightest degree of decent explanation.

- Oh, how unfortunate. Did it crash yesterday or today?

- Today. No, last night when it was dark.

- Hee, fell! shouted Tishkin, choking with joy. - Vadik from the seventh grade brought it to him. They played for money, and he began to argue and earned, I saw it. He says he fell.

I was dumbfounded by such betrayal. Does he not understand anything at all or is it on purpose? For playing for money, we could be expelled from school in no time. Finished it. In my head everything was alarmed with fear and buzzed: it was gone, now it was gone. Well, Tishkin. Here is Tishkin so Tishkin. Pleased. Brought clarity - nothing to say.

“I wanted to ask you, Tishkin, something completely different,” Lidia Mikhailovna stopped him, not surprised and without changing her calm, slightly indifferent tone. - Go to the blackboard, since you're talking, and get ready to answer. She waited until the bewildered, who immediately became unhappy Tishkin came out to the blackboard, and briefly said to me: - After the lessons you will stay.

Most of all, I was afraid that Lidia Mikhailovna would drag me to the director. This means that, in addition to today's conversation, tomorrow I will be taken out in front of the school line and forced to tell what prompted me to do this dirty business. The director, Vasily Andreevich, would ask the offender, no matter what he did, whether he broke a window, got into a fight or smoked in the restroom: “What prompted you to do this dirty business?” He paced in front of the ruler, throwing his hands behind his back, moving his shoulders forward in time with his broad steps, so that it seemed as if the tightly buttoned, protruding dark jacket was moving independently a little ahead of the director, and urged: “Answer, answer. We are waiting. look, the whole school is waiting for you to tell us.” The student began to mutter something in his defense, but the director interrupted him: “You answer my question, answer my question. How was the question asked? “What prompted me?” - That's it: what prompted? We listen to you." The case usually ended in tears, only after that the director calmed down, and we went to classes. It was more difficult with high school students who did not want to cry, but could not answer Vasily Andreevich's question either.

Once our first lesson started ten minutes late, and all this time the director was interrogating one ninth-grader, but, having not achieved anything intelligible from him, he took him to his office.

And what, interestingly, I will say? It would have been better to get kicked out right away. I briefly touched on this thought and thought that then I would be able to return home, and then, as if burned, I was frightened: no, you can’t go home with such a shame. Another thing is if I myself had left school ... But even then you can say about me that I am an unreliable person, since I could not stand what I wanted, and then everyone would shun me altogether. No, just not like that. I would still be patient here, I would get used to it, but you can’t go home like that.

After the lessons, trembling with fear, I waited for Lidia Mikhailovna in the corridor. She left the staff room and nodded as she led me into the classroom. As always, she sat down at the table, I wanted to sit at the third desk, away from her, but Lidia Mikhailovna pointed to the first one, right in front of her.

— Is it true that you play for money? she started right away. She asked too loudly, it seemed to me that at school it was necessary to talk about it only in a whisper, and I was even more scared. But there was no point in locking myself up, Tishkin managed to sell me with giblets. I mumbled:

- Truth.

So how do you win or lose? I hesitated, not knowing which was better.

- Let's tell it like it is. Are you losing, perhaps?

“You… win.

- Okay, anyway. You win, that is. And what do you do with money?

At first, at school, for a long time I could not get used to Lidia Mikhailovna's voice, it confused me. In our village they spoke, wrapping their voice deep in their guts, and therefore it sounded to their heart's content, but with Lidia Mikhailovna it was somehow small and light, so that you had to listen to it, and not from impotence at all - she sometimes could say to her heart's content , but as if from secrecy and unnecessary savings. I was ready to blame everything on French: of course, while I was studying, while I was adjusting to someone else's speech, my voice sat without freedom, weakened, like a bird in a cage, now wait for it to disperse again and get stronger. And now Lidia Mikhailovna asked as if she was at that time busy with something else, more important, but she still couldn’t get away from her questions.

“Well, so what do you do with the money you win?” Do you buy candy? Or books? Or are you saving up for something? After all, you probably have a lot of them now?

- No, not much. I only win a ruble.

"And you don't play anymore?"

— And the ruble? Why ruble? What are you doing with it?

- I buy milk.

- Milk?

She sat in front of me neat, all smart and beautiful, beautiful in clothes, and in her feminine young pore, which I vaguely felt, the smell of perfume from her reached me, which I took for my very breath; besides, she was not a teacher of some kind of arithmetic, not of history, but of the mysterious French language, from which something special, fabulous, beyond the control of anyone, everyone, like, for example, me, came from. Not daring to raise my eyes to her, I did not dare to deceive her. And why, after all, should I lie?

She paused, examining me, and I felt with my skin how, at the glance of her squinting, attentive eyes, all my troubles and absurdities really swell and fill with their evil strength. There was, of course, something to look at: in front of her, crouched on a desk, was a skinny, wild boy with a broken face, untidy without a mother and alone, in an old, washed-out jacket on sagging shoulders, which was just right on his chest, but from which his arms protruded far; in light green trousers made from his father's breeches and tucked into teal, with traces of yesterday's fight. Even earlier I had noticed with what curiosity Lidia Mikhailovna was looking at my shoes. Of the entire class, I was the only one wearing teals. Only the next autumn, when I flatly refused to go to school with them, did my mother sell the sewing machine, our only asset, and buy me tarpaulin boots.

"Still, you shouldn't play for money," said Lidia Mikhailovna thoughtfully. “Would you manage somehow without it.” Can you get by?

Not daring to believe in my salvation, I easily promised:

I spoke sincerely, but what can you do if our sincerity cannot be tied with ropes.

In fairness, I must say that in those days I had a very bad time. In the dry autumn, our collective farm settled early with the delivery of grain, and Uncle Vanya did not come again. I knew that at home my mother did not find a place for herself, worrying about me, but this did not make it easier for me. The sack of potatoes brought for the last time by Uncle Vanya evaporated so quickly, as if they were fed, at least, to livestock. It’s good that, having remembered, I guessed to hide a little in an abandoned shed standing in the yard, and now I lived only with this hiding place. After school, sneaking like a thief, I darted into the shed, put a few potatoes in my pocket, and ran out into the hills to start a fire somewhere in a comfortable and hidden lowland. I was hungry all the time, even in my sleep I felt convulsive waves rolling through my stomach.

Hoping to stumble upon a new group of players, I began to slowly explore the neighboring streets, wandered through wastelands, followed the guys who were drifting into the hills. It was all in vain, the season was over, the cold October winds were blowing. And only in our clearing the guys continued to gather. I was circling nearby, I saw how the puck flashed in the sun, how, waving his arms, Vadik was in command and familiar figures were leaning over the cash register.

In the end, I could not stand it and went down to them. I knew that I was going to be humiliated, but it was no less humiliating to accept once and for all the fact that I was beaten and kicked out. I was itching to see how Vadik and Ptah would react to my appearance and how I could behave. But most of all, it was hunger. I needed a ruble - no longer for milk, but for bread. I didn't know of any other way to get it.

I approached, and the game paused by itself, everyone stared at me. The bird was wearing a cap with turned-up ears, sitting, like everyone else on him, carefree and bold, in a checkered, loose-fitting shirt with short sleeves; Vadik forsil in a beautiful thick jacket with a lock. Nearby, piled in one heap, lay sweatshirts and coats, on them, huddled in the wind, sat a small boy, five or six years old.

Bird met me first:

- Why did you come? Haven't beaten in a while?

“I came to play,” I answered as calmly as possible, looking at Vadik.

“Who told you that with you,” Bird cursed, “they will play here?”

- What, Vadik, will we hit right away or will we wait a bit?

- Why did you stick to a man, Bird? - Vadik said, squinting at me. “Understood, a man came to play. Maybe he wants to win ten rubles from you and me?

“You don’t have ten rubles each,” I said, just so as not to seem like a coward to myself.

We have more than you dreamed of. Set, don't talk until Bird gets angry. And he is a hot man.

- Give it to him, Vadik?

No need, let him play. Vadik winked at the guys. - He plays great, we are no match for him.

Now I was a scientist and I understood what it was - Vadik's kindness. Apparently, he was tired of a boring, uninteresting game, therefore, in order to tickle his nerves and feel the taste of a real game, he decided to let me into it. But as soon as I touch his vanity, I'll be in trouble again. He will find something to complain about, next to him is Ptah.

I decided to play carefully and not to covet the cashier. Like everyone else, in order not to stand out, I rolled the puck, afraid of inadvertently hitting the money, then quietly bale the coins and look around to see if Ptah had come in from behind. In the first days I did not allow myself to dream of a ruble; twenty or thirty kopecks for a piece of bread, and that's good, and then give it here.

But what was supposed to happen sooner or later, of course, happened. On the fourth day, when, having won a ruble, I was about to leave, they beat me again. True, this time it was easier, but one trace remained: my lip was very swollen. At school, I had to bite her constantly. But no matter how I hid it, no matter how I bit it, Lidia Mikhailovna saw it. She deliberately called me to the blackboard and made me read the French text. I wouldn't be able to pronounce it correctly with ten healthy lips, and there's nothing to say about one.

“Enough, oh, enough! - Lidia Mikhailovna was frightened and waved her hands at me, as if at an evil spirit. — Yes, what is it? No, you will have to work separately. There is no other way out.

Thus began a painful and awkward day for me. Since the very morning, I have been waiting with fear for the hour when I will have to be alone with Lidia Mikhailovna, and, breaking my tongue, repeat after her words that are inconvenient for pronunciation, invented only for punishment. Well, why else, if not for mockery, merge three vowels into one thick viscous sound, the same “o”, for example, in the word “veaisoir” (a lot), which you can choke on? Why, with some kind of priston, let sounds through the nose, when from time immemorial it has served a person for a completely different need? What for? There must be limits to reason. I was covered with sweat, blushed and choked, and Lidia Mikhailovna, without respite and without pity, made me callous my poor tongue. And why me alone? There were all sorts of guys at school who spoke French no better than I did, but they walked free, did what they wanted, and I, like a damned one, took the rap for everyone.

It turned out that this is not the worst thing. Lidia Mikhailovna suddenly decided that we were running out of time at school until the second shift, and told me to come to her apartment in the evenings. She lived near the school, in teachers' houses. On the other, larger half of Lidia Mikhailovna's house, the director himself lived. I went there like torture. Already by nature timid and shy, lost at any trifle, in this clean, tidy apartment of the teacher, at first I literally turned to stone and was afraid to breathe. I had to speak so that I could undress, go into the room, sit down - I had to be moved around like a thing, and almost by force to get words out of me. It didn't help my French at all. But, strange to say, we did less here than at school, where the second shift supposedly interfered with us. Moreover, Lidia Mikhailovna, bustling about the apartment, asked me questions or told me about herself. I suspect that she deliberately invented for me that she went to the French department only because she was not given this language at school either, and she decided to prove to herself that she could master it no worse than others.

Hiding in a corner, I listened, not waiting for tea when they let me go home. There were a lot of books in the room, a large beautiful radio set on the bedside table by the window; with a player - rare for those times, but for me it was an unprecedented miracle. Lidia Mikhailovna put on records, and the dexterous male voice again taught French. One way or another, there was nowhere for him to go. Lidia Mikhailovna, in a simple house dress, in soft felt shoes, walked around the room, making me shudder and freeze when she approached me. I could not believe that I was sitting in her house, everything here was too unexpected and unusual for me, even the air, saturated with light and unfamiliar smells of a different life than I knew. Involuntarily, a feeling was created, as if I were peeping into this life from the outside, and out of shame and embarrassment for myself, I wrapped myself even deeper into my short jacket.

Lidia Mikhailovna was then probably twenty-five or so; I remember well her regular and therefore not too lively face, with her eyes screwed up to hide the pigtail in them; tight, rarely revealed to the end smile and completely black, short hair. But with all this, one could not see the harshness in her face, which, as I later noticed, becomes over the years almost a professional sign of teachers, even the most kind and gentle by nature, but there was some kind of cautious, cunningly, bewilderment related to to herself and seemed to say: I wonder how I ended up here and what I'm doing here? Now I think that by that time she had managed to be married; in her voice, in her gait - soft, but confident, free, in her whole behavior, courage and experience were felt in her. And besides, I have always been of the opinion that girls who study French or Spanish become women earlier than their peers who study, say, Russian or German.

I am ashamed now to remember how frightened and lost I was when Lidia Mikhailovna, having finished our lesson, called me to supper. If I were a thousand times hungry, every appetite immediately jumped out of me like a bullet. Sit down at the same table with Lydia Mikhailovna! No no! I'd better learn all French by heart by tomorrow so that I never come here again. A piece of bread would probably really get stuck in my throat. It seems that before that I did not suspect that Lidia Mikhailovna, like all of us, eats the most ordinary food, and not some kind of manna from heaven - she seemed to me an extraordinary person, unlike everyone else.

I jumped up and, mumbling that I was full, that I didn’t want to, backed up along the wall to the exit. Lidia Mikhailovna looked at me with surprise and resentment, but it was impossible to stop me by any means. I ran. This was repeated several times, then Lidia Mikhailovna, in despair, stopped inviting me to the table. I breathed more freely.

Once I was told that downstairs, in the locker room, there was a package for me that some guy brought to school. Uncle Vanya, of course, is our driver - what a man! Probably, our house was closed, and Uncle Vanya could not wait for me from the lessons - so he left me in the locker room.

I hardly endured until the end of classes and rushed downstairs. Aunt Vera, the school cleaning lady, showed me a white plywood box in the corner, in which mail parcels are packed. I was surprised: why in a drawer? - Mother used to send food in an ordinary bag. Maybe it's not for me at all? No, my class and my last name were printed on the lid. Apparently, Uncle Vanya already wrote here - so as not to be confused for whom. What is this mother thought up to nail food in a box ?! Look how intelligent she has become!

I could not carry the parcel home without knowing what was in it: not that kind of patience. It is clear that there are no potatoes. For bread, the container is also, perhaps, too small, and inconvenient. In addition, bread was sent to me recently, I still had it. Then what is there? Immediately, at school, I climbed under the stairs, where, I remembered, there was an ax, and, having found it, I tore off the lid. It was dark under the stairs, I climbed back out and, furtively looking around, put the box on the nearest windowsill.

Looking into the parcel, I was stunned: on top, neatly covered with a large white sheet of paper, lay pasta. Blimey! Long yellow tubes, laid one to the other in even rows, flashed in the light with such wealth, which nothing more expensive for me existed. Now it’s clear why my mother packed the box: so that the pasta would not break, crumble, they would arrive to me safe and sound. I carefully took out one tube, looked, blew into it, and, unable to restrain myself any longer, began to grunt greedily. Then, in the same way, I took up the second, the third, thinking about where I could hide the box so that the pasta would not get to the overly voracious mice in my mistress's closet. Not for that mother bought them, spent the last money. No, I won't go for pasta that easily. This is not some potato for you.

And suddenly I choked. Pasta… Really, where did mother get pasta? We never had them in our village, you can't buy them there for any money. What is it then? Hastily, in desperation and hope, I sorted through the pasta and found at the bottom of the box several large lumps of sugar and two hematogen tiles. Hematogen confirmed that the parcel was not sent by the mother. Who, in this case, who? I looked at the lid again: my class, my surname - to me. Interesting, very interesting.

I pressed the nails of the lid into place and, leaving the box on the windowsill, went up to the second floor and knocked on the staff room. Lidia Mikhailovna has already left. Nothing, we'll find it, we know where he lives, we've been. So, here's how: if you don't want to sit down at the table, get food at home. So yes. Will not work. No one else. This is not a mother: she would not forget to put a note, she would tell where, from what mines such wealth came from.

When I sideways climbed in with the parcel through the door, Lidia Mikhailovna pretended not to understand anything. She looked at the box, which I placed on the floor in front of her, and asked in surprise:

- What is it? What is it you brought? What for?

“You did it,” I said in a trembling, breaking voice.

- What have I done? What are you talking about?

You sent this package to the school. I know you.

I noticed that Lidia Mikhailovna blushed and became embarrassed. This was the only, apparently, case when I was not afraid to look her straight in the eye. I didn't care if she was a teacher or my second cousin. Then I asked, not she, and asked not in French, but in Russian, without any articles. Let him answer.

Why did you think it was me?

Because we don't have any pasta there. And there is no hematogenous.

- How! Doesn't happen at all? She was so genuinely surprised that she betrayed herself completely.

- It doesn't happen at all. It was necessary to know.

Lidia Mikhailovna suddenly laughed and tried to hug me, but I pulled away. from her.

“Really, you should have known. How am I like this?! She thought for a moment. “But here it was hard to guess—honestly! I'm a city person. Are you saying it doesn't happen at all? What happens to you then?

- Peas happen. Radish happens.

- Peas ... radishes ... And we have apples in the Kuban. Oh, how many apples are there now. Today I wanted to go to the Kuban, but for some reason I came here. Lidia Mikhailovna sighed and glanced at me. - Do not get mad. I wanted the best. Who knew you could get caught eating pasta? Nothing, now I'll be smarter. Take this pasta...

"I won't," I interrupted her.

- Well, why are you like this? I know that you are hungry. And I live alone, I have a lot of money. I can buy whatever I want, but I'm the only one ... I eat a little, I'm afraid to get fat.

- I'm not hungry at all.

Don't argue with me, I know. I spoke to your mistress. What's wrong if you take this pasta now and cook yourself a good dinner today. Why can't I help you, for the only time in my life? I promise not to send any more packages. But please take this one. You have to eat enough to study. There are so many well-fed loafers in our school who don’t understand anything and probably never will, and you are a capable boy, you can’t leave school.

Her voice began to have a soporific effect on me; I was afraid that she would persuade me, and, angry with myself for understanding Lidia Mikhailovna's rightness, and for the fact that I was going to not understand her after all, I, shaking my head and muttering something, ran out the door.

Our lessons did not stop there, I continued to go to Lidia Mikhailovna. But now she took me for real. She apparently decided: well, French is French. True, the sense of this came out, gradually I began to pronounce French words quite tolerably, they no longer broke off at my feet with heavy cobblestones, but, ringing, tried to fly somewhere.

“Good,” Lidia Mikhailovna encouraged me. - In this quarter, the five will not work yet, but in the next - for sure.

We did not remember the parcel, but just in case, I kept my guard. You never know what Lidia Mikhailovna will undertake to come up with? I knew from my own experience: when something doesn’t work out, you will do everything to make it work out, you just won’t give up. It seemed to me that Lidia Mikhailovna was looking at me expectantly all the time, and looking at me, laughing at my wildness - I was angry, but this anger, oddly enough, helped me to be more confident. I was no longer that meek and helpless boy who was afraid to take a step here, little by little I got used to Lidia Mikhailovna and her apartment. Still, of course, I was shy, hiding in a corner, hiding my teals under a chair, but the former stiffness and oppression receded, now I myself dared to ask Lidia Mikhailovna questions and even enter into disputes with her.

She made another attempt to seat me at the table - in vain. Here I was adamant, stubbornness in me was enough for ten.

Probably, it was already possible to stop these classes at home, I learned the most important thing, my tongue softened and moved, the rest would eventually be added at school lessons. Years and years ahead. What will I do then if I learn everything in one go from beginning to end? But I did not dare to tell Lidia Mikhailovna about this, and she, apparently, did not at all consider our program completed, and I continued to pull my French strap. However, a webbing? Somehow involuntarily and imperceptibly, without expecting it myself, I felt a taste for the language and in my free moments, without any prodding, I climbed into the dictionary, looked into the texts farther in the textbook. Punishment turned into pleasure. Ego also spurred me on: if it didn’t work out, it will work out, and it will work out - no worse than the best. From another test, or what? If it were not yet necessary to go to Lidia Mikhailovna ... I myself, myself ...

Once, about two weeks after the story with the parcel, Lidia Mikhailovna, smiling, asked:

“Well, you don’t play for money anymore?” Or are you going somewhere on the sidelines and playing?

- How to play now? I wondered, looking out the window where the snow lay.

- What was that game? What is it?

- Why do you need? I got worried.

- Interesting. We used to play as children, so I want to know if this is a game or not. Tell me, tell me, don't be afraid.

I told him, omitting, of course, about Vadik, about Ptah and about my little tricks that I used in the game.

“No,” Lidia Mikhailovna shook her head. - We played in the "wall". Do you know what it is?

- Look. - She easily jumped out from behind the table at which she was sitting, found coins in her purse and pushed the chair away from the wall. - Come here, look. I bang the coin against the wall. - Lidia Mikhailovna lightly struck, and the coin, clinking, flew off to the floor in an arc. “Now,” Lidia Mikhailovna thrust the second coin into my hand, “you strike. But keep in mind: you need to beat so that your coin is as close as possible to mine. So that they can be measured, get them with the fingers of one hand. In another way, the game is called: freezing. If you get it, then you win. Bay.

I hit - my coin, hitting the edge, rolled into the corner.

“Oh, oh,” Lidia Mikhailovna waved her hand. - Long away. Now you are starting. Keep in mind: if my coin touches yours, even a little, by the edge, I win doubly. Understand?

- What is not clear here?

- Shall we play?

I didn't believe my ears:

How can I play with you?

— What is it?

- You're a teacher!

- So what? The teacher is a different person, isn't it? Sometimes you get tired of being only a teacher, teaching and teaching endlessly. Constantly pulling yourself up: this is impossible, this is impossible, - Lidia Mikhailovna screwed up her eyes more than usual and looked thoughtfully, aloof, out the window. “Sometimes it’s useful to forget that you’re a teacher, otherwise you’ll become such a buffoon and buzzard that living people will get bored with you.” For a teacher, perhaps the most important thing is not to take himself seriously, to understand that he can teach very little. She shook herself and immediately cheered up. - And in my childhood I was a desperate girl, my parents suffered with me. Even now I still often want to jump, jump, rush somewhere, do something not according to the program, not according to the schedule, but at will. I'm here, it happens, I jump, I jump. A person ages not when he lives to old age, but when he ceases to be a child. I would love to jump every day, but Vasily Andreevich lives behind the wall. He is a very serious person. In no case should he find out that we are playing "freeze".

“But we don't play any 'fucks'. You just showed me.

- We can play as simply as they say, make-believe. But you still don't betray me to Vasily Andreevich.

Lord, what is going on in the world! How long have I been scared to death that Lidia Mikhailovna would drag me to the director for playing for money, and now she asks me not to give her away. Lightning is no different. I looked around, frightened for some reason, and blinked my eyes in confusion.

- Well, shall we try? If you don't like it - leave it.

“Come on,” I agreed hesitantly.

- Start.

We took the coins. It was clear that Lydia Mikhailovna had really played at one time, and I was just trying on the game, I had not yet figured out for myself how to beat a coin against a wall - whether edge-on or flat, at what height and with what force when is it better to throw . My blows went blind; if they had kept score, I would have lost quite a lot in the first minutes, although there was nothing tricky in these “squabbles”. Most of all, of course, what embarrassed and oppressed me, did not allow me to get used to the fact that I was playing with Lidia Mikhailovna. Not a single dream could dream of such a thing, not a single bad thought to think about it. I did not come to my senses immediately and not easily, but when I came to my senses and began to look at the game little by little, Lidia Mikhailovna took it and stopped it.

“No, it’s not that interesting,” she said, straightening up and brushing her hair that had fallen over her eyes. - Play - so real, but the fact that you and I are like three-year-old kids.

“But then it will be gambling,” I reminded him timidly.

- Certainly. What are we holding in our hands? There is no other way to replace gambling with money. This is good and bad at the same time. We can agree on a very small rate, but there will still be interest.

I was silent, not knowing what to do and how to be.

— Are you afraid? Lidia Mikhailovna encouraged me.

- Here's another! I'm not afraid of anything.

I had some small things with me. I gave the coin to Lidia Mikhailovna and took mine out of my pocket. Well, let's play for real, Lidia Mikhailovna, if you like. Something to me - I was not the first to start. Vadik had zero attention to me either, and then he came to his senses, climbed with his fists. Learned there, learn here. It's not French, and I'll get French to my teeth soon.

I had to accept one condition: since Lydia Mikhailovna’s hand is larger and her fingers are longer, she will measure with her thumb and middle finger, and I, as expected, with my thumb and little finger. It was fair and I agreed.

The game restarted. We moved from the room to the hallway, where it was freer, and beat on a smooth wooden fence. They beat, knelt down, crawled on the floor, touching each other, stretched their fingers, measuring the coins, then again rising to their feet, and Lidia Mikhailovna announced the score. She played noisily: she screamed, clapped her hands, teased me - in a word, she behaved like an ordinary girl, not a teacher, I even wanted to shout at times. But nevertheless she won, and I lost. Before I had time to come to my senses, eighty kopecks ran into me, with great difficulty I managed to knock off this debt to thirty, but Lidia Mikhailovna from a distance hit mine with her coin, and the account immediately jumped to fifty. I started to worry. We agreed to pay at the end of the game, but if things continue like this, my money will not be enough very soon, I have a little more than a ruble. This means that you can’t go over the ruble - otherwise it’s a shame, shame and shame for life.

And then I suddenly noticed that Lidia Mikhailovna was not even trying to beat me at all. When measuring, her fingers hunched over, not stretching out to their full length - where she allegedly could not reach the coin, I reached out without any effort. This offended me, and I got up.

“No,” I said, “that's not how I play. Why are you playing along with me? It's not fair.

"But I really can't get them," she began to refuse. “I have wooden fingers.

— You can.

- Okay, okay, I'll try.

I don’t know how it is in mathematics, but in life the best proof is by contradiction. When the next day I saw that Lidia Mikhailovna, in order to touch the coin, surreptitiously pushes it to her finger, I was stunned. Looking at me and for some reason not noticing that I perfectly see her pure fraud, she continued to move the coin as if nothing had happened.

- What are you doing? I protested.

- I AM? And what am I doing?

Why did you move her?

“No, she was lying here,” Lidia Mikhailovna opened the door in the most shameless way, with some kind of even joy, no worse than Vadik or Ptakha.

Blimey! The teacher is called! I saw with my own eyes at a distance of twenty centimeters that she was touching a coin, and she assures me that she did not touch it, and even laughs at me. Does she take me for a blind man? For a little one? French language teaches, is called. I immediately completely forgot that just yesterday Lidia Mikhailovna tried to play along with me, and I only made sure that she did not deceive me. Well well! Lidia Mikhailovna, is called.

On this day we studied French for fifteen or twenty minutes, and then even less. We have another interest. Lidia Mikhailovna made me read the passage, made comments, listened to the comments again, and without delay we moved on to the game. After two small losses, I began to win. I quickly got used to the "freezes", figured out all the secrets, knew how and where to hit, what to do as a point guard, so as not to substitute my coin under the freeze.

And again I have money. Again I ran to the market and bought milk - now in ice cream mugs. I carefully cut off the influx of cream from the mug, put the crumbling ice slices into my mouth and, feeling their full sweetness all over my body, closed my eyes in pleasure. Then he turned the circle upside down and hollowed out the sweetish milk sludge with a knife. He allowed the leftovers to melt and drank them, eating them with a piece of black bread.

Nothing, it was possible to live, but in the near future, as soon as we heal the wounds of the war, they promised a happy time for everyone.

Of course, accepting money from Lidia Mikhailovna, I felt embarrassed, but each time I was reassured by the fact that this was an honest win. I never asked for a game, Lidia Mikhailovna suggested it herself. I didn't dare refuse. It seemed to me that the game gives her pleasure, she was cheerful, laughed, disturbed me.

We would like to know how it all ends ...

... Kneeling against each other, we argued about the score. Before that, too, it seems, they were arguing about something.

“Understand you, garden head,” Lidia Mikhailovna argued, crawling on me and waving her arms, “why should I deceive you? I keep score, not you, I know better. I lost three times in a row, and before that I was “chika”.

- "Chika" is not a reading word.

Why isn't this a read?

We were shouting, interrupting each other, when we heard a surprised, if not startled, but firm, ringing voice:

— Lydia Mikhailovna!

We froze. Vasily Andreevich stood at the door.

— Lidia Mikhailovna, what is the matter with you? What's going on here?

Lidia Mikhailovna slowly, very slowly got up from her knees, flushed and disheveled, and smoothing her hair, she said:

- I, Vasily Andreevich, was hoping that you would knock before entering here.

- I knocked. Nobody answered me. What's going on here? - can you explain please. I have the right to know as a director.

“We are playing at the wall,” Lidia Mikhailovna answered calmly.

“Are you playing for money with this?” Vasily Andreevich pointed his finger at me, and out of fear I crawled behind the partition to take cover in the room. Are you playing with a student? Did I understand you correctly?

- Right.

“Well, you know…” The director gasped for air. - I'm at a loss to immediately name your act. It is a crime. Corruption. Seduction. And more, more ... I have been working at school for twenty years, I have seen everything, but this ...

And he raised his hands above his head.

Three days later, Lidia Mikhailovna left. The day before, she met me after school and walked me home.

“I’ll go to my place in the Kuban,” she said, saying goodbye. - And you study calmly, no one will touch you for this stupid case. It's my fault here. Learn,” she patted me on the head and left.

And I never saw her again.

In the middle of winter, after the January holidays, a parcel arrived at school by mail. When I opened it, taking out the ax again from under the stairs, there were tubes of pasta in neat, dense rows. And below, in a thick cotton wrapper, I found three red apples.

I used to see apples only in pictures, but I guessed that they were.

for pronunciation. I memorized the words easily, but the pronunciation gave away my Angarsk origin, and Lydia Mikhailovna, the French teacher, grimaced helplessly and closed her eyes.

"No, I'll have to deal with you separately," she said.
Thus began my painful days. I was covered with sweat, blushed and choked, and Lidia Mikhailovna, without respite, made me callous on my poor tongue. Gradually, I began to pronounce French words quite tolerably, and they no longer broke off at my feet in heavy cobblestones, but, tinkling, tried to fly somewhere.
Probably, it was already possible to stop these studies at home, but I did not dare to tell Lidia Mikhailovna about this, and she apparently did not consider our program completed. And I kept pulling on my French strap. However, a webbing? Somehow, involuntarily and imperceptibly, I felt a taste for the language, and in my free moments, without any coercion, I climbed into the dictionary, looking into the distant texts of the textbook. Punishment turned into pleasure.

FIND IN THE TEXT METAPHOR; COMPARISON; EPITET, EXPLAIN THEIR ROLE IN THE TEXT.

“Holy Sea”, “Holy Lake”, “Holy Water” - this is how Baikal was called from time immemorial by both the indigenous people and the Russians who came to its shores already in the seventeenth century, and traveling foreigners, bowing before its majestic, unearthly mystery and beauty . This worship of Baikal and wild people, and enlightened people for their time was equally complete, exciting, despite the fact that some primarily affected mystical feelings, while others - aesthetic and scientific. Every time a person was taken aback at the sight of Baikal, because it did not fit into either the spiritual or materialistic ideas of a person: Baikal lay not where something like this could be, was not what could be in this and any other place to be, and acted on the soul in a different way from the usual “indifferent” nature. It was something extraordinary.

Over time, Baikal was measured and studied, using last years even deep-sea submersibles. It has acquired certain dimensions and is comparable to the step by them: it is compared either with the Caspian or with Tanganyika. They calculated that it contains a fifth of all fresh water on our planet, explained its origin, suggested how species of animals, fish and plants that did not exist anywhere else could originate in it, and how species that exist for many thousands of kilometers managed to get into it in other parts of the world. Not all of these explanations and assumptions are even consistent with each other. Baikal is not so simple that it could be so easy to deprive it of mystery and mystery, but nonetheless. as it should be, according to its physical data, it is placed in the place corresponding to it in the series of quantities described and discovered. And he stands in this row ... because he himself, living, majestic and miraculous, incomparable with anything and not repeated anywhere else, knows his own eternal place and his own life.

How and with what can one really compare its beauty? We will not assure you that there is nothing more beautiful than Baikal in the world; each of us has his own side, and for the Eskimo or Aleut, as you know, his tundra and icy desert is the crown of natural perfection and wealth. From birth, we absorb the air, salt and pictures of our homeland, they influence our character and to a large extent organize our life composition. Therefore, it is not enough to say that they are dear to us, we are part of them, the part that is made up of the natural environment; in us her ancient and eternal voice is bound to speak and speaks. It is pointless to compare, giving preference to anything, the ice of Greenland with the sands of the Sahara, the Siberian taiga with the Central Russian steppe, even the Caspian Sea with Baikal, you can only convey your impressions about them. All this is beautiful in its beauty and amazing in its life. Most often, attempts at comparison in such cases come from our unwillingness or inability to see and feel the uniqueness and non-randomness of the picture, its quivering existence.

And yet, Nature as a whole, as a single creator, has her favorites, in which she puts special effort during construction, finishes with special care and endows with special power. Such, no doubt, is Baikal. No wonder it is called the pearl of Siberia. We will not talk about his wealth now, this is a separate conversation. Baikal is glorious and holy to others - with its wonderful life-giving power, the spirit of not the past, not the past, like so much now, but the present, not subject to time, primordial greatness and reserved power, the spirit of self-originating will and attractive trials.

I remember how my friend, who came to visit me, and I walked for a long time and went far along the coast of our sea along the old Circum-Baikal Road, one of the most beautiful and vibrant places in southern Baikal. It was August, the best, fertile time on Baikal, when the water heats up and the hills rage with multi-colored hills, when, it seems, even a stone blooms, blazing with colors; when the sun shines brightly on the newly fallen snow on the distant bald mountains in the Sayans, which appear to the eye many times closer than they really are; when Baikal has already stocked up with water from melting glaciers and lies well-fed, often calmly, gaining strength for autumn storms; when fish play generously near the shore to the cries of seagulls, and when at every step along the road one berry, then another is encountered - either raspberries, then red and black currants, then honeysuckle ... And then it was a rare day: the sun, calm, it is warm, the air is ringing, Baikal is clean and frozen quiet, far away in the water stones flash and shimmer with colors on the road, then it smells of heated and bitter air from the ripening herbs from the mountain, then inadvertently conveys cool and sharp breath from the sea.

My comrade had already been overwhelmed for two hours by the wild and riotous beauty that fell upon him from all sides, creating a feasting summer celebration, until then not only he had not seen, but even could not imagine.

1 PART. (1) Early in the morning, when Seryozhka went out for bread, there was not a soul in the yard. (2) There was no one to chat with, so Syroezhkin decided to go to

the farthest bakery: he will meet someone or see something amusing.
(3) Seryozhka slowly paced under the shady lindens. (4) From the outside, one might think that he was concerned about something and he was immersed in his thoughts. (5) But what are these thoughts? (6) So, the game: I want everything around to be even better, more interesting, more significant .. (7) Trees have been planted, they weren’t there yesterday. (8) Thin, completely sticks, and without leaves. (9) But nothing! (10) Soon they will gain strength, they will make noise in the wind ... (11) But the bulldozers have heaped up a bunch of land: they are leveling the site. (12) Until the shaft is removed, it is convenient to hide here. (13) And then, probably, they will plant bushes, put sports equipment...
(14) Below, across the river, the bowl of the stadium is visible. (15) Seryozhka looks at her, but sees not the stadium, but the stone walls of the Roman Colosseum. (16) Now he is not a high school student, he is a brave gladiator. (17) He is not wearing pants and a jacket, but forged armor. (18) He must grapple with tigers and lions and strike them with his sword in order to stay alive ...
(19) No, it would be better if the stadium was not the Colosseum, but a synchro-phasotron! (20) Yes, yes, that’s what it is, the synchrophasotron, - a mass, round like a circus, inside which the particles that make up atomic nucleus. (21) And now Seryozhka is not just a student - he is a physicist! (22) Here he takes photographic plates and begins to think about what the traces are on them ...
(23) Suddenly a sunbeam flashes, and Seryozha forgets that a minute ago he was a physicist. (24) The walls of the Kremlin are darkening in the distance, and they are guarded on the high bank by the archer Syroezhkin. (25) Here comes a tall old man with a stick. (26) Yes, this is Ivan the Terrible himself! (27) What order will he give to his warrior?
(28) Terrible paused and calmly asked:
- (29) Tell me, buddy, how to get to the Million Little Things store?
- (30) I-I don’t know, - Seryozhka muttered in confusion. - (31) That is what I am! .. (32) 3 know!
(33) First, constantly straight ahead, then to the left.
- (34) Thank you, - the old man said, not at all surprised. (35) And went. (36) Slowly. (37) Calm down. (38) But not at all like Ivan the Terrible. (39) It's a pity.
_________________________________________________________________ A1. What question in the text No answer?
1) Why is Seryozhka Syroezhkin capable of such diverse fantasies?
2) What do physicists investigate with the help of a synchrophasotron?
3) What was the Moscow Kremlin like during the time of Ivan the Terrible?
4) Why didn't Seryozhka immediately show the old man the way to the "Million Little Things" store?
_________________________________________________________________ A2. Which sentences contain the information necessary to substantiate the answer to the question: "Why Seryozhka Syroezhkin sees everything around not like that what is it really like?"
1) (1) Early in the morning, when Seryozhka went out for bread, there was not a soul in the yard. (2) There was no one to chat with, so Syroezhkin decided to go to the farthest bakery: maybe he would meet someone or see something amusing.
2) (5) But what are these thoughts? (6) So, the game: I want everything around to be even better, more interesting, more significant.
3) (14) Below, across the river, the bowl of the stadium is visible. (15) The earring looks at her, but sees not the stadium, but the stone walls of the Roman Colosseum.
4) (21) And now Seryozhka is not just a student - he is a physicist! (22) Here he takes photographic plates and begins to think about what the traces are on them ...
_________________________________________________________________ A3. How does the information contained in sentences 14-22 characterize the hero?

1) Earring - an empty dreamer, wasting time on worthless fantasies.
2) Earring - a superficial person who does not have deep knowledge.
3) Seryozhka is a narcissistic person who presents himself as a hero and wise guy.
4) Earring is not only a dreamer, a dreamer, but also a man of versatile knowledge.
_________________________________________________________________ A4. Indicate the meaning in which the word is used in the text "grab"(proposal 18)
1) intertwine 3) take
2) fight 4) gain a foothold
_________________________________________________________________ A5. Which of the following fragments (or sentences) is contrasted in the text in content with sentence 26: "Yes, it's Ivan the Terrible himself!" ?
1) (25) Here comes a tall old man with a stick.
2) - (29) Tell me, buddy, how to get to the Million Little Things store?
3) - (30) I-I don’t know, - Seryozhka muttered in confusion. - (31) That is what I am! .. (32) I know!
4) - (34) Thank you, - the old man said, not at all surprised. (35) And went. (36) Slowly. (37) Calm down.
_________________________________________________________________ PLEASE SAY ANSWERS!)

Write an essay-reasoning, revealing the meaning of the statement known to the Golinguist I.G. Miloslavsky: “Any repetition, double or multiple,

draws the attention of the reader. Justify your answer by giving 2 examples from the text you read. When giving examples, indicate the numbers of the required sentences or use citations. You can write a work in a scientific or journalistic style, revealing the topic in linguistic material. You can start the essay with the above statement (1) This morning, Dinka woke up with anxiety in her soul and, as soon as she opened her eyes, she remembered Andrei, remembered that today, as usual, he would arrive, Tufted. (2) It was necessary to think carefully about how to tell him that she, Dinka, had matured and would never again sit on the frame of his bicycle, would not ride with him. (3) Neither in the forest, nor in the field, nor along the long path among the sea of ​​ears of rye. (4) None of this will happen again! (5) There will be no secrets told to a faithful childhood friend Tufted. (6) Dinky's soul is anxious. (7) She no longer thinks about herself, she thinks how to soften an undeserved insult in order to ease the blow. (8) She recalls how difficult it was for Tusk to get a bicycle and with what triumph he rushed on it for the first time. (9) "Now I will ride you every Sunday!" he said then. (10) And since then, for the second summer, every Sunday he always rushed her somewhere. (11) Just the mere memory of this unbearably tormented Dinka, she saw familiar eyes in front of her and knew well: these intelligent eyes read in her soul ... (12) And it is useless to deceive them. (13) Yes, and how can you deceive a friend? (14) Of course, a lot of petty twists, a lot of children's lies lie on the conscience of the former Dinka. (15) But it was all different. (16) And Dinka grew up, and life set tasks more and more difficult, more serious. (17) These tasks required bold decisions, but he had never demanded such a sacrifice from Dinky - to give up one for the other. (18) Dinka sat silently at the table, absentmindedly smiled at Lena, not noticing that he had been watching her for a long time with a restless look. (19) "How will I tell Andrei?" Dinka thought painfully. (20) And in the depths of the terrace stood Lenya, and pain squeezed his heart. (21) Following Dinky's stopped gaze, Lenya saw a bicycle entering from the road. - (22) Don't tell him anything, - squeezing cold hand friends, Lyonya said quickly. - (23) Do you hear me? .. - (24) I hear, - Dinka whispered, and her lips trembled. - (25) Of course, I understand everything, Lenya ... (26) We were three friends. (27) And now there should be two! (28) And of the three of us, no one can be deceived!

(1) I try not to look at my home and go around it. (2) I think: why rave about the past? (3) Why remember what is forgotten even by my

countrymen? (4) Everything is gone forever - good and bad - you don’t feel sorry for the bad, but you can’t return the good. (5) I will erase this past from my heart, never return to it again. (6) But one day I crumple my writing in my fist and throw it in a corner. (7) I run up the stairs. (8) In the back street I look around. (9) There is no one. (10) Mom went for cloudberries, everything is in the mowing. (11) The house protruded from the settlement down to the river. (12) As in a dream, I approach our birch. (13) Hello. (14) Didn't recognize me? (15) Has become tall. (16) The bark burst in many places. (17) Ants run along the trunk. (18) The lower branches are cut off so as not to obscure the windows of the winter hut. (19) The top has become higher than the pipe. (20) Please don't wear your jacket. (21) I remember it was spring and your leaves had already woken up. (22) They could be counted, you were so small then. (23) We cut off two big roots from you. (24) They carried it through the lava, and the brother said that you would wither, you would not take root under the winter window. (25) True, you barely survived, two lethal leaves were small, pale. (26) Your brother was no longer at home when you were strong and strong. (27) And where did you get this power under the winter window? (28) Wow! (29) Already higher than the father's house. (30) But one must be modern. (31) And I push off the birch, like a poisonous tree. (32) Soon we must leave Timonikha. (33) And this boundless green world of my homeland is so good! (34) For some reason, I want my house and my village not to disappear completely, so that they remain in this endlessly changing world.

1. From sentence 22-25 write out a word with an alternating unstressed vowel in the root

2. From sentences 30-34, write out a word in which the spelling of the prefix is ​​determined by the rule: "At the end of the prefix, -s is written if it is followed by a letter denoting a deaf consonant."

3. Which complex sentence contains a clause of time?
1) 18
2) 24
3) 26
4) 34

4. Which characteristic of sentence 5 is correct?
1) Compound sentence
2) Complex sentence
3) Compound Unionless proposal
4) Simple sentence

5. From sentence 19 write out the grammatical basis