Morning

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The students of class 3B at Ostróda High School were typical representatives of their age and social group. At 9:38 a.m. on Monday, January 22nd, they behaved appropriately to the circumstances they found themselves in.

A long break, called "breakfast" by the conservative teaching staff, had been underway for eight minutes. The name was anachronistic, coming from a completely different era, when mothers prepared sandwiches with Krakowska or yellow cheese obtained from under the counter, waiting in a twenty-meter line, and the inevitable healthy leaf of lettuce, easily purchased at the market or grown by a caring parent in their own garden.

The youth of Anno Domini 2005 didn't carry breakfast in their briefcases. Books could smell of cold cuts, and some unflattering nickname would cling to the offender, such as: Villager, Sausage Man, or—God forbid—Smordek. From the very first recess, Mr. Mopsik, owner of a limited liability company, opened his doors wide to the hungry, meaning the boys. For just 2 złoty, you could buy a sweet roll with custard and a candied cherry on top. Mr. Mopsik was a modern entrepreneur and knew that the aesthetic appearance of his products was just as important as their taste. In fact, perhaps even more so! The second product that was popular among young people was the hot dog. Today's youth, who usually began learning English in kindergarten, easily translated this English phrase into literary Polish. And although the name "hot dog" seemed to directly warn against the poor quality of the meat, young people devoured the dish with gusto, convinced they had made the right choice, as they had learned in biology classes about the importance of consuming animal protein during puberty.

Girls, who focused primarily on how food affects their beauty in biology classes, tended to choose juices or the currently advertised mineral water from Mr. Mopsik's offerings. Only occasionally, a desperate teenager, after a failed answer, a failed test, or another difficult conversation with her parents, would come

to console herself with a candy bar or a cup of cappuccino.

Young customers would visit the shop during every break, and sometimes even stop by during classes to buy Orbit gum (sugar-free, due to tooth decay), of course, under the pretext of needing to go to the bathroom. The fifteen-minute break starting at 9:30 had practically lost its breakfast status. Regardless of the name A quarter of an hour usually passed quickly for the students, and, in accordance with the ancient rule, they tried to combine business with pleasure, i.e. social conversation with filling in the gaps in homework, and school gossip was freely interwoven with news from various subjects.

Class 3B was busy with just such matters when a tall brunette in light-colored trousers and a tennis top entered the classroom. The racket sticking out of her backpack meant she would be going straight from school to tennis lessons, which her parents had signed her up for with her future in mind. These days, every young person should have some unpretentious hobby that will develop them spiritually and physically.

The girl's parents didn't know how to play tennis, nor did they fully understand the rules of the sport. However, they agreed that it was a desirable skill that would surely pay off in the future, especially since many promising friendships could be made on the courts. The girl's mother regretted that her parents hadn't had enough imagination to steer her life in a more interesting direction. She decided to give her daughter a head start and give her everything she had.

The effort began immediately after the girl's birth. She and her husband had already chosen the name Katarzyna for their daughter. They thought it was pretty and began with the same letter as their surname – Kapuściak. However, the woman, looking at the baby, concluded that while she was undoubtedly pretty, with dark eyes and hair, she was also chubby, and her sweet, round face might remain chubby forever. She didn't want anyone shouting after her daughter: fat Kaśka. Besides, Kaśka somehow still reminded her of Maciek, and Maciek of a tractor and chickens. She concluded that the name shouldn't be so common, because the girl's entire life might depend on it. Her argument was so fervent that her husband agreed to the change. This time they chose a unique name, one might even say original, a name distinguished by its elegance, bringing an air of the elite world, and at the same time managed to stick with the earlier idea and retain the first letter K, which blended so nicely with the surname. (You should never give up on good ideas.) The girl was named Konstancja, which, combined with Kapuściak, sounded sonorous and reminded her mother of a queen, an actress, or perhaps a saint… In any case, an extraordinary woman.

Immediately after the official approval of the choice, a minor problem arose. It was somewhat awkward to use the name Konstancja in everyday life. For example, my father would stutter mid-sentence when he said Konstancja had peed. Soon he began using the phrase "zwetowała się," which he believed was more appropriate for his daughter's name. His mother, on the other hand, began to feel the typical need for diminutives and chatter. And here a difficult linguistic problem arose. How should one address little Konstancja? Konstancjusia? Konstancia? Stańcia? Konstancjanka? Konstusia? The last form suited her best, but over time, due to her parents' careless spelling, it changed to Kostusia. The girl went to kindergarten convinced her name was Kostusia Kapuściak. Until she was eight, she was quite happy with this, until one of her classmates started calling her Kostucha, which was somewhat appropriate, as the girl was exceptionally thin.

This event led both her parents and her daughter to return to the official form of the name, even though it was still inconvenient in everyday use. However, because Konstancja had been learning English from a young age and was more familiar with Anglo-American culture thanks to radio and television than Her own, soon found an ingenious solution. She began introducing herself as Conee (read: Koni). Her excessive thinness transformed into an attractive slimness. Thanks to this and her English-sounding name, she got off to a good start in the teenage social life. Moreover, it should be added that she was an averagely talented and averagely hard-working girl, and the world and teachers love such people the most.

Her school days passed pleasantly and stress-free. She had a faithful friend, Dorota, and a group of acquaintances, and she had been completely happy for the last few months because she loved and was loved. Her chosen one was named... Maciek. (Well, you can't escape fate, I guess.) Their love developed promisingly and classically. There were walks home, sitting at the same desk, walks together in the hallways... What more can I say? Everyone has experienced it, and if not, at least observed it, as exemplified by their closest friend. To this constant repertoire, modern lovers have added official public kissing. Let us note, however, that Conee and Maciek tried not to abuse this custom.

Dorota found herself in a difficult psychological situation. She wished her friend the best, but her heart ached. After all, they had discussed their friends' strengths and weaknesses and had come to the conclusion that Maciek was the only sensible boy in the class. Dorota, looking in the mirror, saw a rather pretty face, so theoretically, their chances were equal. She was convinced that if she hadn't contracted the measles, things would have turned out differently. It was during her two-week absence that Conee had sat with Maciek at the same desk because she was missing the book Dorota always carried. When she returned to school after her illness, she wasn't shocked, because Conee kept her up to date on developments. (By phone, of course, as in-person contact would have risked infection.) Dorota thus had time to accept the fact that she had lost a potential boyfriend and a pretty good friend.

It must be admitted, however, that Konstancja, though in love, hadn't forgotten her friend. She and Maciek would sit next to her during breaks or walk Dorota home with him. And Dorota seemed content. Just like before, she attended her friend's tennis practices, the only difference being that now Maciek was sitting next to her, and they were both cheering for Conee.

This idyllic situation had lasted for several months, and class 3B, which had initially hoped for a more dramatic turn of events that would brighten up the monotonous school days, had resigned itself to a happy ending. Besides, the prom was in a few days. The girls talked about their outfits, shared their miracle acne remedies, and boasted about the calorie levels they'd reduced their meals to. The boys seemed more resilient to the pre-prom stress. Instead, they pondered together how and when to bring in alcoholic beverages, and how to disguise them so the teachers could pretend they didn't notice. And maybe someone will organize some marijuana, because there's nothing like a sweet joint to get you in the mood.

Under these circumstances, no one noticed Konstancja entering the classroom at 9:38. Only a loud "You bitch!" and a simultaneous scream caused everyone to turn toward the source of the sound. They saw an enraged Conee and Dorota, cowering in fear, who was trying to emerge from behind her desk. Unfortunately, Konstancja blocked her path, jabbing her friend with a nail file. The class was stunned. Before the significance of the scene dawned on them, Conee managed to hit Dorota's exposed cleavage, causing a thin trickle of blood to appear. Dorota began screaming even louder, now also in pain, and Conee increased the force and frequency of the blows with the file. She managed to land two more blows, including one on the cheek, before the class, stunned and in obvious shock, had time to react. Finally, Conee was dragged to the other side of the room, and it took two people to do it. Dorota cried, surrounded by a group of confused classmates, while Conee hurled insults. (It should be added that although she knew English and had also been learning French for three years, she opted for her native Polish curses.) But she soon quieted down.

When a teacher, alerted by someone, rushed into the classroom, she saw Dorota with half her face ugly stained with blood, dripping onto her sweater, and at the other end Conee – quiet, tired, and, perhaps, ashamed.

The modern educator knows how complex and delicate the adolescent psyche is, so the teacher ran out to seek professional help from a psychologist who had worked at the school for several years, helping students through the difficulties of adolescence.

The psychologist reacted quickly – she quickly went to the principal, because she knew only psychological problems but didn't know all the regulations of education law. (After all, parents can always interpret a teacher's good intentions as bullying, harassment, or—God forbid!—molestation.)

After all three of them witnessed the situation firsthand, they decided to call the police, an ambulance, and the parents of both girls. The principal considered hiring a security company, but after reading the relevant regulations, he concluded there was no need.

The girls were isolated. Class 3.B started their lesson late. It was obvious, however, that no one, including the teacher, was thinking about school. Everyone wondered what Dorota had done and unanimously concluded that it must have been about Maciek, who, by the way, wasn't at school. No one was sure, however. When several dozen minutes later they were summoned individually to speak with the police (the teachers were wondering if this was legal and whether parents would file complaints), they couldn't explain why it had happened. Some couldn't even describe the event itself, which the psychologist attributed to the emotional trauma of their still unstable psyche. Only the victim, Dorota, and the perpetrator, Conee, could explain the reasons for this dramatic event. For the time being, this was impossible.

Dorota, her face bandaged, was taken to a nearby hospital. The doctor, expertly applying a dressing, stated that at least three stitches would be necessary, and that a prom was out of the question. Konstancja also couldn't be questioned because she had fallen into a kind of stupor, sitting with her head bowed and her back hunched. She didn't respond to police questions or to the pleas, and later threats, of her parents, who alternately cried and said it was impossible.

Finally, two police officers took Konstancja by the arms and led her out of the school, not because she seemed ready for another attack, but rather because of her complete passivity. She was taken to jail, even though her parents had hoped for a childcare center. Unfortunately, the girl had already celebrated her 18th birthday, for which Dorota had given her a blue teddy bear—a keychain she'd attached to her backpack, which now swayed sadly to the rhythm of her steps.

At 12:14, the doors closed behind Konstancja, her parents, and the police. School resumed its regular schedule. However, everyone was plagued by the question—why?—and the speculations were becoming increasingly implausible.

It turns out, however, that it's probably worth trusting so-called intuition, as his initial guesses were closest to the truth. It was about Maciek. Sitting on the fans' benches with Dorota, the young man concluded that she was quite pretty, witty, and generally a good girl. For a few days, while they were walking Dorota home from Conee, he'd been observing them both and decided that green eyes were prettier than dark ones. Besides, Dorota had shown class when he started dating Conee, and he hoped the latter would show the same. He wanted to part ways gracefully, believing they'd become friends like Bruce Willis and Demi Moore, and besides, you read about polite breakups all the time.

That evening, he spent a long time preparing for the decisive moment. He was a sensitive guy (which is why girls liked him so much), so he knew Conee might be very upset about this moment. He spent a long time composing the words in his mind and finally decided he had perfected the lyrics – "Conee, today's match was great, you're getting better and better. Dorota thinks so too. I think there's something going on between us. You know how it is. But the last few months have been amazing, at least for me. So long. It's over. I'm not going to sit with you tomorrow."

He read each word several times to make sure everything was correct. Then he sent a text message. He decided he needed to inform Conee quickly, because firstly, it was fair, and secondly, she would have time to adjust to the new situation until morning. Satisfied with himself, and finally with a clear conscience, he went to bed.

Unfortunately, Konstancja didn't read the message that evening. Because mobile networks compete with each other in promotions, text messages are very cheap, and even free on weekends. Young people text constantly, if only to use up their free minutes. The kids from 3.B did the same—sending each other all sorts of nonsense.

Conee heard her cell phone ring, but she was too tired. After practice, she went shopping with her mother for shoes to match her prom dress, which was already hanging in the closet. She liked the black stilettos at the first store, but her mother decided they might as well buy something even nicer, because a prom like this is worth shining at. When she returned home, exhausted, with the beautiful shoes (soft leather, a thin heel, a strap over the ankle, and a small velvet rose on the side), she only repeated the French words for the test. It's no wonder, then, that when she heard the ringing in bed, she put off reading the text message until the next morning. Unfortunately, she overslept that morning, which was understandable after the tiring day before. She woke up at 8:40. Needless to say, she was quickly ready to go. By 9:03, she was sitting on the bus, actually quite happy. Admittedly, she'd failed her first two lessons, but they were PE and IT, and she'd sort it out somehow, and she'd already bought the shoes. She'd tell Dorota about them. Maybe they could go to the store together, and Dorota could pick something up, too. While changing her shoes in the cloakroom, she remembered yesterday's text message. She reached for her phone. It was 9:33.

Is there a moral to this story? None.

Welcome to the new millennium.