He wasn't using it to cheat. At least, that’s what he told the ghost of Baranov that seemed to watch him from the black-and-white author portrait.
The blue-and-white cover was frayed at the corners, the laminate peeling like sunburnt skin. On the shelf of the school library, nestled between a dusty atlas and a collection of Chekhov, sat the 6th-grade Russian language textbook by M.T. Baranov. To any other student, it was a tomb of grammar rules and relentless dictations. To Alyosha, it was a gateway to a silent war. He wasn't using it to cheat
One evening, he came across Exercise 342: Write a short composition on "The First Snow." On the shelf of the school library, nestled
The next day, his teacher, Elena Petrovna, returned the notebooks. She stopped at Alyosha’s desk. Her glasses hung on a chain, reflecting the pale winter light. To Alyosha, it was a gateway to a silent war
He wasn't using it to cheat. At least, that’s what he told the ghost of Baranov that seemed to watch him from the black-and-white author portrait.
The blue-and-white cover was frayed at the corners, the laminate peeling like sunburnt skin. On the shelf of the school library, nestled between a dusty atlas and a collection of Chekhov, sat the 6th-grade Russian language textbook by M.T. Baranov. To any other student, it was a tomb of grammar rules and relentless dictations. To Alyosha, it was a gateway to a silent war.
One evening, he came across Exercise 342: Write a short composition on "The First Snow."
The next day, his teacher, Elena Petrovna, returned the notebooks. She stopped at Alyosha’s desk. Her glasses hung on a chain, reflecting the pale winter light.