Bassim
VIP Member
- Joined
- Mar 1, 2008
- Member Type
- Student or Learner
- Native Language
- Bosnian
- Home Country
- Bosnia Herzegovina
- Current Location
- Sweden
This is the third part of my short story "The Volunteer". Please, would you proofread it
I had always wondered how he never became tired of his malicious mischief and where did he find all that energy which seemed to be inexhaustible? One day during the history lesson when the whole class was silent listening to our teacher explaining Napoleon’s invasion of Russia, Zoran started chewing the gum so loud that everyone turned towards him, and our teacher, a man in his sixties who soon would be retired, lost the thread, could not concentrate any more, started swearing, and instead of throwing Zoran out of the class, he rushed out without bothering to return and finish his lecture.
On another occasion, our mathematics teacher was writing complicated logarithm rules on the blackboard when Zoran shouted from behind, “Don’t teach us nonsense!” The teacher’s reaction was quick and unexpected. He turned towards the class, lifted his right hand and threw the chalk at Zoran without taking aim at him.
Zoran ducked and the projectile missed him for just a centimetre or two, hitting the wall and leaving a white mark on the green surface. Zoran sat upright and said laughingly, “Nice shot, mate!”
Without answering his provocation, our poor teacher turned to the blackboard, took another piece of chalk and started writing again, pretending as if nothing had happened, but we all knew that his day had been ruined and he would curse the moment when he decided to became a teacher and he would curse the student who was bringing them all on the brink of a nervous breakdown.
I became angry with him because he noticed that the tips of my ears were pointed and he called me Dr Spock. When I heard it the first time, I was furious. I wanted to smash his teeth and silence him for ever. I was boiling inside and I still could not understand how I managed somehow to contain myself.
When we finished the school and received our diplomas I would see him seldom in the town. Usually if I saw him walking in my direction I would turn into the side street or walk over the street and pretend being in hurry so that if he noticed me he would not be able to stop me and talk to me. However, sometimes despite my precautions I could not avoid him and I would find myself looking at the pair of small, brown, cruel eyes which would immediately caused a feeling of uneasiness in my mind.
But I had to admit that he did not mention my ears any more, nor did he say anything spiteful. It could be that, with years he had matured and started behaved like a grown up man, although there was some kind of aura around him which still made me feel uneasy in his company. Once he told me that he was looking for job, he wanted to help his mother who had sacrificed everything for him, and he planned to finally earn his own money and have a family with many children.
My initial thought was that if I had my own company and was looking for an employee, I would never give him a chance. Not even if he went down to his knees and begged imploringly.
When I saw him in the river on that sunny day I felt as if someone had thrown me into the icy water. The river was my only comfort in this troubled time and now his presence had desecrated this, for me sacred place. I wanted to swim to the opposite bank to be away from him, but he shouted again, “Come and meet my wife.” That word “wife” was one of the reasons why I swam back. I could never have imagined that any woman in the world would be interested in him, or that he would be able to have a serious relationship with him. My curiosity at that moment was stronger than anything else.
“So you are avoiding your old schoolmate?” he said and shook hands with me. “Please, shake hands with my wife Milena.”
The woman extended her pretty hand to me and we shook hands. I looked at her face, noticing how beautiful she was. Her long dark hair which now was wet, was sparkling in the sun and fell down over her shoulders, revealing her broad forehead and her beautiful dark eyes. Her skin was milky and without any wrinkles - a skin of a young healthy woman.
I believed Zoran was joking. It was impossible that this beauty could have anything to do with him. However, she herself told me that they had already been married for three months and she was pregnant with his child. Zoran kissed her on the cheek and patted her stomach, saying, “My child, a little Zoran!” She blushed.
TO BE CONTINUED
I had always wondered how he never became tired of his malicious mischief and where did he find all that energy which seemed to be inexhaustible? One day during the history lesson when the whole class was silent listening to our teacher explaining Napoleon’s invasion of Russia, Zoran started chewing the gum so loud that everyone turned towards him, and our teacher, a man in his sixties who soon would be retired, lost the thread, could not concentrate any more, started swearing, and instead of throwing Zoran out of the class, he rushed out without bothering to return and finish his lecture.
On another occasion, our mathematics teacher was writing complicated logarithm rules on the blackboard when Zoran shouted from behind, “Don’t teach us nonsense!” The teacher’s reaction was quick and unexpected. He turned towards the class, lifted his right hand and threw the chalk at Zoran without taking aim at him.
Zoran ducked and the projectile missed him for just a centimetre or two, hitting the wall and leaving a white mark on the green surface. Zoran sat upright and said laughingly, “Nice shot, mate!”
Without answering his provocation, our poor teacher turned to the blackboard, took another piece of chalk and started writing again, pretending as if nothing had happened, but we all knew that his day had been ruined and he would curse the moment when he decided to became a teacher and he would curse the student who was bringing them all on the brink of a nervous breakdown.
I became angry with him because he noticed that the tips of my ears were pointed and he called me Dr Spock. When I heard it the first time, I was furious. I wanted to smash his teeth and silence him for ever. I was boiling inside and I still could not understand how I managed somehow to contain myself.
When we finished the school and received our diplomas I would see him seldom in the town. Usually if I saw him walking in my direction I would turn into the side street or walk over the street and pretend being in hurry so that if he noticed me he would not be able to stop me and talk to me. However, sometimes despite my precautions I could not avoid him and I would find myself looking at the pair of small, brown, cruel eyes which would immediately caused a feeling of uneasiness in my mind.
But I had to admit that he did not mention my ears any more, nor did he say anything spiteful. It could be that, with years he had matured and started behaved like a grown up man, although there was some kind of aura around him which still made me feel uneasy in his company. Once he told me that he was looking for job, he wanted to help his mother who had sacrificed everything for him, and he planned to finally earn his own money and have a family with many children.
My initial thought was that if I had my own company and was looking for an employee, I would never give him a chance. Not even if he went down to his knees and begged imploringly.
When I saw him in the river on that sunny day I felt as if someone had thrown me into the icy water. The river was my only comfort in this troubled time and now his presence had desecrated this, for me sacred place. I wanted to swim to the opposite bank to be away from him, but he shouted again, “Come and meet my wife.” That word “wife” was one of the reasons why I swam back. I could never have imagined that any woman in the world would be interested in him, or that he would be able to have a serious relationship with him. My curiosity at that moment was stronger than anything else.
“So you are avoiding your old schoolmate?” he said and shook hands with me. “Please, shake hands with my wife Milena.”
The woman extended her pretty hand to me and we shook hands. I looked at her face, noticing how beautiful she was. Her long dark hair which now was wet, was sparkling in the sun and fell down over her shoulders, revealing her broad forehead and her beautiful dark eyes. Her skin was milky and without any wrinkles - a skin of a young healthy woman.
I believed Zoran was joking. It was impossible that this beauty could have anything to do with him. However, she herself told me that they had already been married for three months and she was pregnant with his child. Zoran kissed her on the cheek and patted her stomach, saying, “My child, a little Zoran!” She blushed.
TO BE CONTINUED
