Verses from the Past - Part 1 (Episode 2)

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"Hey, you, I'm talking to you!

" "Me?" asked a dark-haired, stocky boy

. "Yes, you. What's your name?

" - Paweł

. "Listen, Paweł, didn't you get enough sleep today? You're moving like a fly in tar, like you were sleeping standing up. What the hell is that? Make an effort, man!"

It was PE class. The teacher was a tall, muscular, athletic guy. The first time he opened his mouth and started yelling at us, I thought he was a monster. Now, unfortunately, he was proving it. He stood at the side of the room, stiff as a string, constantly whistling and shouting unpleasant things at us. Less than halfway through the lesson, I was completely fed up with him. I'd never been a fan of sports.

We'd run around the room, passing balls to each other, doing bends, and doing pull-ups on the monkey bars.

"Are your hands numb?" our professor shouted. "How do you catch that ball? Not like that!" Oh, I'll have to work on you. Line up, we're practicing shooting baskets!

We obediently formed a line. I stood next to Robert, whose face was flushed from the exertion and he was breathing heavily.

"But that coach of ours set the pace, right?" he gasped. "Do you know any of those ball-handling tricks?

" "I'm not a basketball expert," I replied.

"I have no idea what it's all about," Robi admitted. "I've never been able to fathom the rules of these games. I only know that you have to shoot for the goal or the opponent's basket, but the whole setup, all those strange concepts—'offsides,' 'steps,' 'penalty'—will forever remain a mystery to me."

Someone burst out laughing behind us. It was my turn, and of course, I missed.

"Completely rubbish!" the teacher commented.

Robi threw an even worse shot. The ball sailed high over the basket. The teacher grimaced in disgust

. "Tragic. You're probably not going to be anything. You're moving like you want to be a ballet dancer, but you wouldn't be cut out for that either.

The loud laughter only made us feel worse. I noticed that Konrad and Marti were the ones laughing the most. Before we retreated to the back of the line, we saw Konrad effortlessly put the ball in the basket.

"Well, maybe you'll be good for something," the teacher said.

We stood there with sad faces, praying that this lesson would be over as soon as possible. Suddenly, Marti approached us with that charming smile of his and said,

"Don't you think our PE teacher is great? I love him already!"

He patted Robi on the shoulder and ran off to the back of the room. At that moment, I truly hated him. Thankfully, the forty-five minutes of physical and mental torture finally ended. I suspected that if the teacher didn't change, PE would be the worst subject in school. Robi seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"Hey, fat guy, do you want to dance ballet?" "Hedgehog" asked as he passed us. He must have really enjoyed the teacher's sadistic attitude. My mood completely soured.

The locker room was even worse. We'd barely entered when we were greeted with laughter from the "not-so-holy-trinity" crowd.

"Aren't you broken?" Konrad shouted. "The professor doesn't believe in your ballet career!

" "Oh, that was a huge blow," Robert said, making a face. "I've always wanted to perform in Swan Lake.

" "You can still try as the ugly duckling," Czaki smiled.

"That coach of ours is fantastic!" Marti enthused. "Those lines – classic! I have to start carrying a recorder to PE, recording everything, and memorizing it! From now on, he'll be my idol."

Konrad climbed onto a bench against the wall, put on a menacing expression, and started parodying the teacher

. "Hey, you move like a fly!"

"In the tar, Konrad, you forgot about the tar," Marti prompted.

"Yes, like a fly in tar! I call you a wimp! Are your hands numb?"

Laughter answered him. Only I wasn't amused.

"None of you will be victims of fate!" Konrad continued. "Completely crippled! A healthy mind in a healthy body!" Then he stood on one leg and spread his arms as if to fly away.

"Well, you're the only one who'll be any good at anything," Marti said. "Oh, what can I do to get in the professor's good graces?

" "He he he," Konrad roared. "Professor of Applied Physical Education!

" "Konrad, get off that bench and stop acting like a fool, because everyone thinks you're a complete lunatic," Czaki, who had been silent until then, said.

"And they're not wrong!" Marti laughed.

"Grrr!" came from Konrad's direction.

Robert calmly changed his clothes, glancing occasionally at his antics. I thought I'd probably underestimated him. He really didn't care about the teasing, tried to turn it into a joke, and then laughed it off himself. That was probably the best he could do.

But he still surprised me with his love of order. I watched with almost fascination as he folded his tracksuit, tied his shoelaces, and straightened the collar of his shirt. Then he took out a handy comb and combed his hair. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed "Hedgehog" and his companions choking with laughter at the sight. I felt sorry for him. Finally, Robcio pulled out a packet of crackers and offered it to me, saying,

"After all that effort, you need a snack, please. "

I gave in and reached for a cookie.

"...the fat one ran twice and is already eating..." came from "Hedgehog."

Konrad jumped off the bench and landed next to us with a thud.

"Caaaachoo!" he roared above our heads. "Robby, won't you refuse a hungry man?

" "Don't give him anything!" Marti shouted. "You're not allowed to feed wild animals!"

Robert smiled and handed out cookies. Marti took two but handed one to Czaki. Czaki leaned back against the wall, stretched his legs, and slowly munched on a cracker. At one point, he raised his head and winked at me. I don't know why, I blushed and lowered my gaze.

"Hey, Piortruś, you don't seem to like us," he said. I felt everyone—Konrad, Marti, and even Robcio—stare at me. I swallowed nervously.

"Me? No, why..." I stammered.

"Maybe I'm wrong, but I think you're trying to avoid us

." "Oh, I'm not surprised," Robert interjected. "He's still in shock after meeting you."

I stood in the middle of the locker room, blushing furiously, desperately searching for something to say in this situation. Of course, nothing came to mind. Fortunately, after a while, my friends lost interest in me. Most of the boys had already left the locker room, so we had to get ready to leave too. PE was the last class of the day. Tired, in a bad mood, and angry with myself, I trudged down the deserted hallway toward the main door. Robi caught up with me as I walked through.

"Listen," he asked, "would you like to come over to my place for an hour? I live nearby. We could get to know each other better, talk about various things, because there's never time for that at school.

Honestly, I just wanted to get home as quickly as possible, put on one of my favorite records, stretch out on the couch, and forget about my problems. I hesitated for a long moment, searching for an excuse.

"You can call me and tell your parents," Robi urged. "No one's home at the moment, so we'll have the whole house to ourselves. Mom baked a wonderful apple pie..." he added with a smile.

I looked at Robi, at his hopeful eyes, and felt I couldn't refuse. After all, he'd had his fair share of unpleasantness today too; I couldn't add to it. I sighed in resignation.

"Okay, I can come over, but not for long.

" "I'm so happy!" He beamed.

Only now did I begin to wonder what exactly I was going to talk to Robi about. Did we even have anything in common? We'd walked a few steps, and Robi said,

"Remember how the Polish teacher mentioned the volunteer papers during our first lesson?

Well, yes, I thought, we'll talk about school. Oh well.

" "Yes, she said something..." I stammered.

"You know, I was wondering if the two of us could do a paper on ancient philosophy? It's an interesting topic, and we'd get good grades right away. We'd start working on our grades in September," he laughed.

"I don't know..." To be honest, I didn't want to draw attention to myself right away. I'd rather wait, observe how others behave, get a general idea of ​​the class's level.

"If you don't feel like it, no problem. Maybe you don't like Polish?

" "No... we can prepare that report," I muttered.

Now I was truly furious with myself. I was rambling on despite myself and sinking deeper and deeper. I shouldn't have made friends with Robi at all; then I would have had peace. I didn't say a word the entire way. Robert told me about his books on philosophy and antiquity. Finally, we reached the apartment building where he lived, an ordinary ten-story concrete block. We took the rickety elevator to the sixth floor. My friend looked incredibly excited. His hands were shaking as he opened the door. I thought he probably didn't have many friends. Finally, he managed to open the door and, with a theatrical gesture, invited me in. The apartment immediately seemed very cozy, decorated simply but tastefully. Light wooden furniture, pastel carpets and armchair upholstery, colorful watercolors on the walls. We washed our hands, and then Robi invited me to his room. It was a small, square room, with a couch on one side and a wall unit on the other. As soon as I entered, a huge Lennon poster above Robi's bed caught my eye. The boy smiled at the sight.

"I love the Beatles," he said. "And Lennon is my biggest idol."

I was a bit surprised. I thought Robi wouldn't be interested in rock 'n' roll.

"Would you like some tea, or maybe coffee?" the host asked . "

I don't like coffee.

" "Then tea. Do you like fruit tea, or maybe Earl Grey?

" "Regular

tea." "Feel free to come over. Some people come over for tea because they know I have the widest selection. Make yourself at home. Would you like something to eat?

" "No, I'm having dinner at home.

" "Oh, but you have to try the apple pie," he said, and disappeared behind the door.

I browsed the titles of the books piled high on the shelves. I noticed a lot of science fiction novels. Maybe Robi could lend me something from his collection? On one of the shelves sat a slightly battered old record player, and next to it was a stack of analog records. I carefully pulled out a few – Beatles, Stones, The Who, Led Zeppelin… Well, is this really Robie's collection?

He entered the room carrying a tray with cake and two tall glasses with silver handles.

"If you're used to drinking tea in a cup, I'm very sorry, you can't get one here," he announced. "We drink it the Russian way. This isn't from a samovar, though we do have one, of course! My grandmother's jam is a must with tea. I won't let you go unless you try it."

I accepted the glass and plate of apple pie. We sat down on the couch. The tray with the sugar bowl and the rest of the cake was between us. The apple pie was really very good. I thought to myself that few guys would invite a friend for tea and cake. I, for one, would be embarrassed. Other friends I visited offered me Coke and chips, and sometimes they didn't offer anything at all. We did homework or played computer games.

"Did you watch records?" Robi asked

. "Oh," I replied between bites of apple pie.

"Do you like music?

" "Yes. A lot.

" "What kind?

" "Rock." I always found it awkward to talk about music. It's truly my passion, but when I talk about it, I feel like I'm revealing intimate secrets

. "Me too," Robcio said. "I don't have a favorite band these days, so I mostly listen to classic rock 'n' roll. I spent the entire summer tormenting the neighbors with the Beatles' Sergeant Pepper." When I'm feeling down, I put on Zep or Deep Purple. That music still gives me a kick, even after twenty-something years.

"Yeah," I admitted.

It sounded strange coming from Robi. He was still the same boy in his elegant suit and sleek hair. Well, I didn't look like someone who listened to Nirvana either.

"Can I put something on?" he asked.

"If you want..."

He went to the shelf and dug out a CD in a badly damaged cover

– Small Faces. It's my parents'. I inherited most of these records." He smiled. "Is that okay?

" "Sure." To be honest, I've never heard Small Faces before.

The music started playing, and it was quite pleasant. Robi settled more comfortably on the couch. He was already eating his second slice of cake.

"That's what I like best," he chattered. "Relaxing with music, forgetting all the unpleasant things... Oh my, our PE guy is awful! How can anyone be such a ruthless sadist?" Personally, I'm not a fan of gymnastics, but I could play one of those ball games or do some squats or push-ups, just not in this kind of atmosphere. His yelling and taunting are really stressful. The worst part is that he makes fun of some before others, which is one step closer to dividing the group into good and bad.

I remembered the laughter of my friends in the gym, and I felt sorry for Robie. He hadn't shown it then, but now I could clearly see that he was concerned.

"We'll see, maybe it'll work out somehow..." I said without conviction.

"Yeah, it definitely will," he nodded. "I'm so glad we became friends. You know, when I first saw you, I immediately thought you were a nice guy. That's why I sat down with you."

I felt stupid. I didn't consider Robi a friend. I thought it was just a passing acquaintance until I got to know the rest of our class better and made friends with someone more… suitable.

"Want to see my stamp collection?" he suggested unexpectedly. "

OK," I agreed.

I hated stamps. My grandfather used to encourage me to collect them, buying entire sets from special stamp shops, but it always bored me terribly. Finally, I gave the stamp albums to my cousin.

Robi pulled the thick volumes from the shelf, sat down next to me, and, flipping through the pages, began to talk passionately about his collection. I stared at the colorful papers, nodded, and thought that it was me who was pathetic, not Robi. Not an hour passed, but two. We listened to the Beatles' "Revolver," ate most of the cake, and Robi showed me the contents of all the stamp albums. As I was leaving, he walked me to the elevator. He seemed very pleased.

"Thank you for the apple pie and tea," I said as I left.

"I hope you'll be my frequent guest from now on." He smiled. "You can even drop by without an appointment

." I smiled back. The elevator descended.

Why did I feel like a fraud? Robi was so nice, honest, and natural. He didn't pretend to be anyone, he didn't hide anything. Well, he was different from most of his peers, a bit out of place, but what was wrong with that? Why was I ashamed of him? Would I be impressed if he smoked cigarettes and took drugs? I labeled him a slacker and a philanderer, when in reality I felt good in his company. I concluded that the problem was me. I would never dare to behave like Robi. I always hid behind masks, never being myself, only saying what people wanted to hear. I was afraid of ridicule, rejection, I preferred being bland, gray, impersonal than risking being truly myself for once