Marina Sergeyevna noticed that Sashka stopped attending classes in mid-November. Initially, she thought the boy was just sick—autumn, viruses, nothing unusual. But a week passed, then another, and he was still absent. During breaks, she caught herself waiting for Sashka to enter the class, sit at his desk by the window, and pull out his favorite blue math notebook. But his desk seemed swept away from her usual classroom scene.
By the end of the second week, her worry became unbearable. There was no news from his parents—no call, no note. It was strange. Sashka had always been a diligent student, somewhat quiet but hardworking. He loved math, rarely missed lessons, and his notebooks were always exemplary. “It just doesn’t happen like this,” thought Marina Sergeyevna, flipping through the class register.
After classes, she headed to the secretary’s office.
“Valentina Petrovna, do you by any chance know what’s with Sashka Golovin?” she asked, sitting down at the counter. “He hasn’t shown up for a long time.”
The secretary looked up from her papers, adjusted her glasses, and snorted:
“No one called. Maybe they have troubles at home again. You know the area.”
She knew the area. Old houses with peeling paint, yards where trash often lay right at the entrances. Noisy groups of teenagers seemed to occupy benches on every corner. Eternal neighborly disputes that carried through thin walls.
Marina Sergeyevna frowned.
“But one can’t just leave it be. He has a mother, right?”
“Well, there is a mother,” said Valentina Petrovna dryly. “But what kind of mother is she?”
Marina Sergeyevna silently stood up.
“Alright, I’ll figure it out myself,” she muttered quietly, putting on her coat.
“What’s there to figure out,” the secretary muttered after her. “If you want—look for him.”
Marina didn’t respond. She quickly walked through the schoolyard, with only one question spinning in her head: what’s with Sashka?
In the Golovins’ apartment building, the air smelled of dampness and tobacco smoke. The light bulb in the stairwell flickered, and the steps were smeared with mud. Marina climbed to the third floor and knocked on the door with peeling brown paint.
“Is anyone home?” she called, but there was silence in response.
She knocked again, louder. A minute later, the door cracked open slightly, and Sashka peered out.
“Marina Sergeyevna?” his voice trembled.
“Sasha, hello. Why aren’t you going to school? What happened?”
The boy was silent. He looked bewildered and exhausted. His cheeks were sunken, and dark circles lay under his eyes.
“Will you let me in?” she asked gently.
Sashka glanced back as if checking if anyone was behind the door, and finally opened it wider.
The apartment was small and unkempt. In the corner of the room, a three-year-old girl sat playing with a plastic spoon. Sashka quickly closed the door behind the teacher to keep the cold from the hallway out.
“This is my sister, Vika,” he said quietly.
“Sasha, explain to me what’s happening,” Marina said seriously, sitting on a chair. “Where is your mom?”
“At work,” he replied, lowering his head.
“And why isn’t Vika in kindergarten?”
“Mom didn’t manage to arrange it,” he mumbled. “Said she had no time.”
Marina sighed.
“So, you’re sitting with her while mom’s away?”
Sashka nodded.
“And what about school?”
He hesitated, then added quietly:
“Can’t make it. Vika can’t be left alone; she’s too small.”
Marina felt a tightening inside her. Her students never told her about such things.
“Sasha,” she said softly, looking into his eyes. “Have you eaten recently?”
He shrugged.
“I don’t know… probably in the morning.”
She stood up.
“Alright, this won’t do. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” he worried.
“To get food,” she replied, pulling on her coat. “And for help.”
Sashka wanted to object, but he reconsidered.
Marina left the apartment, pulling out her phone as she walked. She knew she couldn’t just leave these children alone.
An hour later, Marina Sergeyevna returned. Sashka opened the door again, peeking out from the threshold. This time his look was cautious, but slightly less fearful.
“You… came back?” he stammered.
“Of course,” Marina Sergeyevna cheerfully replied, entering with heavy bags. “I promised. Where’s your kitchen?”
“There…” he pointed uncertainly.
She quickly walked in the indicated direction and placed the bags on the table. Bread, milk, cereals, apples. There was even some cookies in the bag. Sashka peeked over her shoulder, looking at all this with surprise.
“This… all for us?” he asked, his eyes widening.
“Who else?” she smiled. “Now, where’s your frying pan?”
“What are you going to do?” he tensed.
“Cook dinner,” she answered sternly. “You go play with Vika for now.”
Sashka hesitated. He remained standing in the doorway to the kitchen, clenching his fists.
“Are you really going to do all this?” he asked uncertainly.
Marina Sergeyevna looked back at him and, rolling up her sleeves, said:
“Of course. Who else, if not me?”
She took out eggs, butter, quickly found bread, and put the kettle on. The frying pan hissed as she splashed oil on it. Sashka silently watched her, clearly unsure how to react.
“Sash, why are you standing there?” she gently said. “Go to your sister. She must be bored.”
Sashka glanced back at the room where Vika sat with a doll, peeking at them from around the corner.
“She’s always like this,” he murmured. “Sits quietly.”
“Then it’s time to cheer her up,” Marina Sergeyevna grinned. “Come on. Dinner will be ready soon.”
Reluctantly, he left the kitchen, and Marina continued cooking. In twenty minutes, there was an omelette, sliced bread, cups of tea, and a small plate with apples on the table.
“Everything’s ready!” she called. “Come and eat!”
Sashka and his sister sat down at the table. Vika initially looked at the food timidly but, trying a piece, perked up.
“Tasty,” she whispered, holding onto her spoon.
“Of course it’s tasty,” Marina Sergeyevna winked at her. “I made an effort.”
Sashka ate silently, occasionally glancing at her. But then he couldn’t hold back and asked:
“Why are you doing this?”
Marina Sergeyevna put down her fork and looked at him.
“Because I care about you, Sash. You’re my student, I care about you. It’s normal.”
He blushed and quickly buried his face in his plate.
After dinner, Marina Sergeyevna began clearing the table. Sashka wanted to help, but she stopped him.
“Go better tidy up toys with Vika. I can handle this.”
Ten minutes later, she entered the room. Everything was clean: toys gathered, the floor swept.
“Well done,” she praised them. “Tomorrow I’ll talk to the neighbor. I think she can sometimes come in and help you while mom’s at work.”
“The neighbor? Aunt Lena?” Sashka was surprised.
“Yes, she’s very kind. I’ll talk to her, and everything will be arranged. And you, Sashka, will come to my house.”
“To your place? Why?” he was cautious.
“To do homework,” she said. “You can’t skip school.”
He was silent for a few seconds, then nodded.
“Okay.”
Marina Sergeyevna smiled.
“There you go. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”
That’s how their evenings at Marina Sergeyevna’s began. She would pick Sashka up after her lessons, and together they delved into the world of mathematics and literature. Sometimes, putting aside textbooks, they simply talked.
“You know, Marina Sergeyevna, I sometimes think: what if you hadn’t come then?” Sashka said once, drawing circles in his notebook.
“Then someone else would have come,” she replied, smiling.
“No,” he shook his head seriously. “No one would have come.”
Marina thoughtfully looked at him but decided to change the subject:
“You’re with me for math, not philosophy. What about problem number three?”
Sashka was embarrassed but quickly returned to the tasks. He understood that her help was more than just monitoring his homework.
Gradually, his school performance really improved. Teachers stopped grumbling, and neighbors noticed he was no longer loitering around the neighborhood aimlessly. Sometimes, walking him home, Marina Sergeyevna noticed how his mother, tired after her shift, still tried to spend more time with the children.
“Thank you,” a neighbor said once when she met Marina at the entrance. “If it weren’t for you, I don’t know what would have happened with this Sashka.”
“Oh, come on,” Marina Sergeyevna brushed it off. “The boy is clever. Just needed a push.”
But in her voice, there was warm pride.
Time passed. Sashka grew up, became more confident. He no longer asked why Marina Sergeyevna spent her evenings on him. He simply accepted her help as a given but tried to repay her with diligence.
“How do you manage everything, Marina Sergeyevna?” he asked once, flipping through a history book. “You have your own job.”
“I manage because you’re smart, Sasha. You catch everything on the fly,” she replied with a smile.
The boy shyly looked away, but her words clearly stuck in his mind. He started studying even harder.
Half a year later, he began attending classes again, and his diary began to fill with excellent grades. Marina Sergeyevna was happy to see her efforts bear fruit.
Years passed. Marina Sergeyevna had long since stopped teaching at that school. She had retired, enjoying the quiet in her small home. Sometimes former colleagues would visit, share news, complain about students, and say the school had changed.
She listened, but her thoughts often returned to the past. To the children she had helped.
One hot summer day, someone rang the doorbell. Marina wiped her hands on her apron, cautiously approached, and opened the door. A tall young man stood on the threshold with a bouquet of wildflowers.
“Hello, Marina Sergeyevna,” he said, and his voice was painfully familiar.
“Sasha?” she squinted, looking at the man before her.
He smiled and nodded:
“Yes, it’s me. Wanted to visit you.”
“Come in,” she said, flustered, opening the door wider.
Inside, they sat in the kitchen for a long time. Sasha talked about how he was studying at university, how his mom finally managed to get a good job.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” he suddenly said, becoming serious.
“Oh, Sasha,” Marina softly replied. “I just helped a little.”
“No,” he firmly objected. “You gave me a future. I wouldn’t have made it without you.”
She felt tears in her eyes.
“The main thing is that you’re happy,” she said quietly, her voice trembling slightly.
They talked for a long time, revisiting the past. When Sasha left, Marina sat in silence. She looked at the flowers on the table and thought that perhaps there’s nothing more important than being there when it’s really needed.