-Here,- she said. “Look at yourself. You are smiling on that photo. A happy boy.”
-So?
-Look in the mirror.
I looked. A thin-lipped, gloomy young man was there. He was very preoccupied. Nothing happy about him. And then- I did not know how it happened but I started to sob. I could not stop. I sobbed and sobbed until she sat me back into the chair and forced me to drink more tea.
-That’s how it ends,- she said, “Childhood, I mean. Now you are a young man. Now you know about death, about horrible injustices, about gory mysteries, perversion and deep misery. But despite that all you did not throw that book away, right?
-I just couldn’t..
-It was your time then. Kolya can still stay in the childhood for a while. But for you it is welcome to the school.
-What school?
-The real school, the school of life. The one where people are real, life is real and books are truthful. They do not have to be about America. Here’s the one for you.
She produced an old book. It said ‘The School’ by Arkadi Gaidar.
-I know him,-I said, “He is the children’s author; writes heroic books for kids.”
-Open it. Read from any page. It is a biography.
I opened a book in the middle and read, “He laid on the ground with his fists still clenched. I was fifteen. That was the first man I killed.” I closed the book.
-Thank you,- I said.
-See you soon.
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