Chalk

Alice prepared for a week and knows the topic cold, but it is the boy at the next desk who gets called up — and he slips on the third line. One word would bring deserved rightness in front of everyone. But Lyosha reaches for the cloth, and Alice lowers the hand.

Alice spent a whole week getting ready to answer at the board: every problem worked through, every step learned by heart. But Lyosha from the next desk is called up instead, and he slips on the third line. Alice sees it instantly, and the hand goes up by itself: one word and the rightness is yours, honest and earned. The teacher looks at the raised hand and waits. And then Lyosha reaches for the cloth and wipes the line himself. He has not given up, he is searching. Alice lowers the hand — and a minute later raises it again, because Lyosha gets it wrong once more. Waiting turns out to be physically hard: the pen creaks in the fist, the right answer burns inside. Lyosha steps back, looks at the whole working, wipes half of it and rewrites slower — and finishes correctly. The lesson ends and there is no time to call Alice up. A week of preparation stays unspent, and nobody ever learns about it.