Larisa’s eyes go even wider. “You must be married to a billionaire or something. That’s one fat diamond.”
Kostya clears his throat. “Girls, you can talk about this later. We need to discuss what topic we’re going to do for our journalism project.”
Yegor nods in agreement. “Yeah, we should probably focus on the assignment.”
The rest of the class goes by in a blur as we discuss potential story ideas and argue about which angle would be most interesting, and by the time the professor dismisses us, we’ve settled on investigating the rising cost of student housing in Moscow and how it’s affecting low-income students. We exchange contact information and agree to meet up later in the week to start our research, and then everyone starts packing up their things.
I’m gathering my notebook and pens when Larisa and Yulia come up to me.
“Where’s your next class?” Yulia asks.
I pull out my schedule and stare at it, feeling lost. “I don’t know. It’s my first day, and I honestly have no idea where anything is.”
Larisa takes a look at the schedule over my shoulder. “Oh! That’s our next class too. Come on, we’ll show you where it is.”
“Thank God!”
As we walk across campus together, Larisa glances at me. “So is this your first time starting school, or did you drop out before?”
“It’s my first time,” I say.
“How old are you?” she asks.
“I’m twenty-five. I’ll be twenty-six this year.”
“Oh, really? Wow, that’s cool,” she says. “I’m twenty-two.”
“You’re young,” I say.
“Yeah. I actually would have been in my second year if I hadn’t dropped out.”
“You dropped out? Do you mind me asking why?” I ask curiously
“Financial reasons,” she says. “But I managed to come back this year.”
“Really? How did you manage that?”
“I took out a loan,” she explains. “It wasn’t easy to get approved because the bank didn’t think I had the proper means to pay it back, but I finally convinced them.”
“You took a loan to come back to school?” I ask, surprised.
“Yeah, everybody does it,” she says with a shrug. “It’s just how it works if you don’t have rich parents paying for everything.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I just nod. We continue our short journey in silence, and after a while, Larisa starts pointing out different buildings and giving me tips.
“That’s the library over there,” she chirps. “It’s the best place to study if you need some quiet time. Then the cafeteria on the west side has the cheapest food if you’re on a budget. There’s a little shop near the sciences building that sells used textbooks for half the price of the bookstore. Oh, and if you ever need to print something, go to the computer lab in building C, not the main one in building F. They charge less per page and give a discount if you become a regular.”
“Thank you,” I say gratefully. “This is really helpful.”
“No problem,” she says with a smile. “I know all the tricks to survive here on a tight budget.”
The second class goes by smoothly, and by the time it’s over, it’s lunchtime.
“Want to grab lunch with us?” Larisa asks.
“Sure,” I say, grateful to not be eating alone.
We’re walking across the quad when I notice a group of students standing in a cluster near the fountain, their attention focused on something, or rather someone. It’s as if they are all holding their breath in order not to disrupt the energy.