TURMOIL

history department. On the contrary, when she saw the girl weeping bitterly at the bulletin board, she experienced a quiet sadness. “Three years… My God, three years!” the girl muttered, shedding tears. “How can I possibly go back to the village? No, I will not go back, I’d rather die than go back!” It turns out that she came to enrol for two years in a row and each time she missed one mark. This year she missed half a mark. Bagila did not know whether she entered the university herself or it happened thanks to her father’s brother. In fact, she did well in her exams. “Maybe I got in the way of this girl,” she thought. “She’s suffering so much, but I got into the university without any worries.” She also saw how another snub-nosed black-haired girl was delighted with her admission, clapping her hands loudly, like a child. She failed miserably in her history exam. The next time, when she came to take a foreign language, Bagila saw her name among those who took it, she could not believe her eyes. And today, having become a student, the swarthy girl did not know what to do with herself in joy. Bagila instantly hated this snub- nosed woman terribly. Trembling all over, as if a piece of ice had fallen on her heart, she angrily moved forward. She took out a kopeck piece from a small black purse and went into a pay phone booth. She slowly dialled six numbers. “Hello! Lika, it’s me, Bagila.” Malika liked being called that. She came up with this name for herself recently, removing the first two letters from the real one. “Lika”. Brief and affectionate, Bagila liked it, because the hostess’s invention eliminated traditional addresses, such as “tate” and “zheneshe”. Malika’s frightened voice came from the phone: “What happened? What happened?” “I got in.” “Oh! You scared me! I thought you were in trou- ble… You sound kind of down? Aren’t you glad that you got in?” “I am glad…” “Who could possibly be glad sounding like that? Oh, my little swallow. Run home now, while I call Sar.” “Call who?!” “Sar. That’s what I call Sargel.” “Ah! Okay, I’m going.” Leaving the booth, she walked slowly to the taxi stop. Malika has a strange habit of changing people’s names. She does not call all her friends the way she calls

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