I would be lying if I said that I wake up on the first alarm. It usually takes about twenty minutes to build up, after which I run around the room, as if bitten by bees, and try to bring myself into a divine form. Today was the same. I disconnected the first call without opening my eyes. The phone flew under the pillow, and I tried not to fall asleep, silently counting to ten. It seems that the bill did not really help me, because when the call was repeated, I jumped out of bed and started tossing about, sure that I overslept and was still late for a couple.

Waking up, I didn’t even understand why it was still dark outside the window, even if you gouged out your eye, and the sound of the alarm clock is a little different, not the same as it has been waking me up for two years. It is more like an incoming call. And all this came to me when the kettle was already turned on in the kitchen, my teeth were brushed, and one leg stubbornly did not want to crawl into tight jeans.

She galloped like a frisky lamb into her room, shoulder butting against the door frame. It hurts, of course, there will definitely be a bruise, but other worries worried me now.

I hated late night calls. And this call was just that, because the clock showed me a quarter to three, and it was still far from the rooster's crow. It seems that it’s okay and it’s not that you were awakened, you can go back to sleep, but I stubbornly believed that usually such calls do not end in anything good.

And yes, my premonition did not disappoint me.

Did you already understand that Vika called? Of course we understood. Of all my acquaintances, Zvyagina was the only person who could not sleep at this time.

Vika! “You can’t tell from my voice that five minutes ago I was riding unicorns in my sleep. - I'll kill you. I'll drown in your own basin.

Did I mention that my roommate sometimes suffers from memory lapses? Most often this applies to keys. She always forgets to take them with her. And taking into account the fact that the intercom in our apartment does not work, every time I have to go downstairs to launch the princess into her mini-kingdom.

At the other end of the tube, I heard a wild roar, accompanied by someone's frantic scream.

Shvedova, quickly get ready and come here. If you don’t pick up Zvyagina now, then she will definitely run into a trip to the dentist.

The mouth automatically formed the letter "o", and even the pulse seemed to slow down.

I can’t say that Vika and I were best friends. We lived together, studied in the same group, she tormented me with her stories, and that's about it. But even with such a relationship, I knew her real school friend well, with whom they sometimes went on a spree and littered our small apartment. And believe me, Vika is still an angel compared to Lyudka Stepashkina.

People, you are not children, raise your priests and leave. Have you ever seen time?

I hope my irritated low-frequency vibrations conveyed all my negative message to her.

Stop making yourself out to be the Blessed Virgin Natalia. If I say that Zvyagina needs your help, then she needs it.

And without saying another word, she dropped the call.

“You need to drink less so that outside help is not required,” I grumble and read SMS into the void, where the address is written in black and white, from where I need to pick up my neighbor right now.

Then the search for the wallet began. I turned the bag inside out, opened all the pockets, and this anti-radar for money rested quietly on the windowsill. How out of place. The metro is already closed, public transport has not been running for a long time, and I will be walking for ages. The only option is a taxi, but there is enough for it. And this means that tomorrow at school you will not have to eat sausage in dough with warm tea from a bag, but drink some water from a free cooler in the library.

Here it is, the real life of a poor student.

One taxi ride can leave you without a piece of bread and butter.

But to whom am I saying this? I am talking to myself. Vika will not understand, she will say that you need to ask your parents more often. They say that they are both mom and dad to support their child. Only I can't do that. Conscience does not allow asking more often than possible.

I run to the mirror, gathering my hair sticking out in different directions in a ponytail. There is no time to comb your hair, so everyone will have to look at the shaggy creature that can’t stop yawning. Probably, seeing myself from the outside, I would have laughed. But I already have a plan, according to which I won’t really shine, I’ll take Zvyagina and jump into the car again. Perfect, right?

It's good that I already managed to pull on my jeans. Saved time. I put on a sports bomber jacket over a pajama top with flowers and run to the exit, clinging to my sneakers along the way.

I jumped out into the street and turned on the flashlight on my phone. There is a taxi rank around the corner, but I am not at all a fan of night walks, so a miserable two hundred meters are given to me with difficulty and fear. I kept fiddling with the light. Once it even seemed that someone was following me, then, however, I realized that this was my shadow.

What do you want from a man whose brain is still asleep?

Fearlessness and exploits?

Do not make me laugh.

Surprisingly, we arrived quickly. Having asked the elderly driver to wait for me for a few minutes, I went outside and only then realized that they had brought me not to any club, but to an ordinary high-rise building in a residential area.

Excuse me, but this is exactly Kirov, ninety-six?

Now, if Stepashkina drank too much and gave the wrong address, then I will tear out every extended eyelash with tweezers. Herself. And she won't even feel sorry for her. By the way, I'm not a millionaire. And I don't have the ability to go back and forth.

Exactly, exactly. My sister used to live in this house. You go faster, the counter is working ...

Thanks. I am now.

I slam the door and before I have time to get the phone to dial Lyudka, the front door opens and a crowd of people pours out, screaming at the whole neighborhood.

And words cannot express how I wanted to drop everything, jump back into the car and drive home, leaving Zvyagin and Stepashkin to sort out their own problems. I looked at not very adequate people, and it was like an electric shock struck me. But there is nowhere to go, I'm already here, and Vika screams like a cut.

Step.

Another.

And I freeze when I see that the neighbor begins to pull the hair of the blonde who hung on Korneev.