Nastya was not just as close a friend to Olive as Yana, but she had known her for a longer time. Ever since primary school, when at the third grade a new girl was brought in - a short poor-dressed thing with Oriental features and unkempt hair tied in an effortless braid. Judging from the scruffy, sickly, skinny little figure of the new girl it could be easily assumed that the child was totally neglected. Even the teacher, had she not known that the newbie's parents were both engineers with a degree, would have thought her abandoned.
It happened at recess. The kids ran one after another, screaming and jumping over the desks, while Olive sat on her bench clutching her schoolbag and looking fearfully around.
"Hey you!" cried some fat boy as he pulled her braid, "Where are you come from, China? What's your surname?"
"Phi -- Philimonova..." she muttered, frowning at him.
"Ha-ha, Philly!" the boy recalled the story they had read at the literature class - "Philly", which was about a poor peasant boy who came to school wearing shabby clothes.
"Right, right! Philly!" his mates immediately picked up on it.
That was her nickname all through ten years. And there was no way to get rid of it.
Also, from the very first day on, her classmates knew that Philly could be bullied and made fun on as much as they liked. She was shorter and phisically weaker than the others and she couldn't hit back. She was punched and kicked around, they pulled her braid, stuck chewed bubble-gums to her hair, put apple cores in her schoolbag, hid her sneakers in the toilet tank. Olive's parents never came to school to have it out. Maybe they didn't know. Maybe they didn't want to know.
Nastya, a plump pink-cheeked girl, was seated next to Olive. She felt sorry for her and protected her sometimes. But even she couldn't resist calling her Philly or playing tricks on her.
One day Olive came to school wearing a shabby sweater and no skirt. Of course, it made quite a splash in the class. And then the teacher, having taken her out of sight and given her some rag to wrap around instead of a skirt, began to ask her questions.
"How come you appear at school dressed like that? Don't you know it's inappropriate?"
"I know," said Olive hanging her head, "My skirt got lost."
"How could it get lost? And why do you come to school with your hair undone?"
"I do my hair," answered Olive.
"By yourself?"
"Sure," she glanced up at the teacher like she had no idea what was wrong.
"What do your parents do with you? Why do they neglect your appearance? Are they so busy at work that they can't even get you ready for school in the morning?"
"Mum is busy at work. And Dad is always drunk." whispered the girl.
"Now I see," the teacher bent down to her, "Guess I will have to talk to your parents, Philimonova."
"No!" she cried, and fear splashed in her eyes."I, I will never ever come to school like that, but please, don't call my parents..."
"Why?"
"They'll belt me if you do," was the answer, "I promise, I will never again appear at school without my skirt on!"
And Olive, indeed, kept her promise and never came to school without a skirt on again. Yet she was a mess; she never learned to look after herself properly. Needless to say, in high school, when young men began to flirt with girls and date them - Olive was left out!
Perhaps, Nastya was the only person in the whole school who, out of pity, communicated with Philly. Yana came later, at the tenth grade or so.
Now Philly, albeit belatedly, had begun to change. Better late than never, as they say. She showed a willingness to keep clean, dress smart, brush well. Nastya was aware that the reason was Daniel. But, after her conversation with him on ISQ, she wasn't completely sure whether or not it was a good thing. She had explained to him the situation with Olive and her feelings for him, however, Daniel's reaction to it was somewhat specific.
"Tell Olive to take it easy. Call her right now and tell. Or I'll screw her head off."
"Oh, no. You guys figure it out yourselves. I'm out."
"No, you tell her anyway," insisted Daniel, "And furthermore, tell her I can do anything. It's a warning."
"Do you want her to suffer so bad?" asked Nastya with reproach.
"I'm just thinking if I should play with her a bit more." Daniel replied.
"Don't. She's really on edge right now."
"Okay, let her play on her own, then."
"You may consider yourself Harry Potter or whatever, I don't care," typed Nastya with annoyance, "I'm just sick of her eternal problem related to you, by the way. So you take care, I'm out."
"Nastya, for your information, I knew about her problem before you," he answered, "When we sat on the roof. Even then I knew everything that was going to happen. Don't you see?"
"Stop tormenting her."
"Am I? She is doing it to herself," was the reply, "There are simple rules of life, and she's breaking them."
"Just tell her if you can reciprocate her feelings or not. If you say no she will fall into depression but get back down to Earth. If you say yes, it's up to you."
"There is a little problem." he texted after a pause.
"What problem?"
"I'm self-sufficient, and I love everybody."
"So what? Those are different kinds of love."
"I know. But she won't be happy with that..."
Meanwhile the New Year was coming. And Olive, knowing nothing, kept on living in fantasy land and preparing for her trip to Arkhangelsk.
"No, I have to tell her the truth," Nastya decided finally and called Olive.
"Yesterday-a-ay!" Nastya sang instead of saying hello.
"Oh stop it, will you?" grumbled Olive, not very politely either.
"Stop what?"
"You know what!"
"No, I don't," replied Nastya and sang on, "All my troubles seemed so fa-a-ar awa-a-ay!"
"Don't jeer at me."
"I'm not. I'm just singing a song. Join me!"
"I'm not in the mood to sing."
"Well, then don't stop me. Oh, I beli-ieve in yester-day!"
"Save your sarcasm," said Olive grimly.
"i can't." said Nastya, "It's an integral part of my life."
"Oh yes, I noticed it back in primary school. Nothing has changed since then..."
"That's what I say! You are the same Philly as you used to be as a kid. Nothing has changed, indeed!"
"Mock me if you will, just don't try to ruin my life," said Olive tiredly, "It's all I ask of you."
"There's nothing in your life to ruin. The New Year is not going to change anything."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, there's nothing to ruin, really." and Nastya sang again: "Oh, yesterda-ay!"
"Stop it!!!" roared Olive losing control, "Don't try my patience! You're being facetious because you're jealous, aren't you?"
"Jealous of what?" Nastya laughed, "You're just so funny when you're cross. But if you want to think that I'm jealous, go for it!"
"Things were fine before Daniel appeared," said Olive, "Once you met him online it began..."
"I just wanted to warn you about something. That's it."
"About what?"
"Can we keep it between you and me?" said Nastya after a pause.
"Yes."
"You won't tell Forty-Two?"
"No."
"Shoot, I can't. Ok, I'm out of it, really. You two hang with each other as you like."
"Why can't you? I tell you, it's between us."
"He says he's playing." said Nastya rapidly.
"What do you mean playing?"
"He's playing with you, and Nickey, too."
"Give me details."
"First of all, he has known you have a crush on him since the moment you two sat on the roof..."
"Did he tell you about that?"
"Yeah," said Nastya.
"Okay," Olive muttered after a long pause.
"He's not worth it. He's not worth your effort. He's not worth you!" rattled Nastya raising her voice, "You work for him, go all the way to see him in North Bumblefuck. He's not worth it!!! Maybe I was cruel to you to say these things the way I did, but you just didn't want to open your eyes and it drove me crazy! Admit it, it would be a lot more painful to find out on the New Year's eve!"
"I need to give it a thought..." Olive said slowly.
"No, you don't. You know what is true. He is childish. He's not taking it seriously."
Olive was holding the phone to her ear, silent.
Her whole new found world was falling apart.