Having checked in a cheap, though very cozy single room of Belomor Hotel and had a twix saved on the train for supper, Olive started thinking what to do next. Fortytwonteller's phone number was on her, all she had to do now was grabbing a telephone and dialing the six simple figures. But this seemingly easy task felt to Olive just as challeging as jumping in cold water. Of course, it was him who had given her the phone number, but it had been ages since then. Last time they had talked on Mail Agent was in the beginning of summer. Then Olive left for her grandma's in the country for a month, but on coming back she couldn't find him online. Perhaps, Fourty-Two had gone on holiday as well; perhaps he wasn't in town now...
She didn't know what she had hoped for buying a train ticket at the station and coming here. Back in Moscow it felt so much easier to just take a train and go. But now when she was already here, in Arkhangelsk, having arrived incognito, another issue popped up - what to do next.
Olive rose and paced up and down the room crunching her fingers in anxiety. Calm down, you need to calm down, she persuaded herself. Well, you call first, what's so wrong with it? Yes, it's scary, but you've got to start somewhere. "Besides," she thought, "If I don't call him first how will he know that I'm here?"
After a minute's hesitation Olive took the receiver and rapidly dialed the six figures she knew by heart. The blood rushed out of her face; Olive waited with bated breath vaguely hoping and fearing that nobody would pick up or he wouldn't be at home...
"Hello, can I speak to Daniel?" she shot out once her call got answered by some woman, his mother, apparently.
"Danny! You are wanted on the phone!" the last shouted to the corridor.
Olive shrunk with fear and anxiety. "So the number is right..." she thought hectically, "O God what if he answers now and I get panicked like a fool, at a loss for words? What if he doesn't recognize me or isn't glad to hear me? What if he refuses to see me? Hope I don't chicken out to hang up on him or I'm screwed!"
"Daniel's speaking," said a pleasant young man's voice.
"Hi..." Olive squeaked.
"Hm... Hi there..."
"So, I'm in town until the fefteenth. Let's meet up tomorrow?"
"Err... Okay..."
"Don't you recognize me?"
"Not really..."
"I'm Olive."
The guy on the other end paused in confusion.
"Who?" he asked.
Olive flushed crimson. She could hardly get a grip on herself and stay on the line.
"Well, Olive... From Agrustud... We used to talk on the blogs..."
"Ah!" the guy laughed with joy, "You just had to say so. Let's meet tomorrow by the skyscraper, at tvelve!"
"A.m.?"
"Of course, not p.m.!"
Olive, still crimson with embarrassment, clutched her necklace. Really, what a stupid question! Sure as shit no sane guy would ask a girl out for the first date at twelve a.m.!
"Deal. Bye!" she breathed out.
"Bye."
Olive hung up, took a glance at herself in the mirror and suddenly began to jump and clap her hands.
"Yes! Yes! Yess!"
Her first success in such a difficult undertaking inspired Olive. This jubilation implied everything at once: the pride of her finally overcome timidity, the relief that things were not so scary as she had thought, the sweet expectations of the tomorrow's meeting...
"Yoo-hoo! I've made it!" she sang on the way to the bathroom.
With a towel around her hair Olive sat down to do her nails. Her hands were shaking, the nailpolish kept smudging. She was overtaken with excitement. Some mix of a forgotten old song playing on a local radiostation seemed extremely cool to Olive; it took her breath away. It played in every fiber of her being, and Olive felt like losing herself in this enchanting world of sweet melody; she wanted to fly high in the night sky, over the miraculous city lights of Arkhangelsk...
In the morning she woke up with a feeling of inevitable happiness. She briskly jumped out of bed and walking barefoot on the fluffy carpet she approached the window and threw the drapes open. The bright sunlight gushed inside the room. Seagulls hovered in the bright blue sky; the cool breeze was coming from the White Sea. Olive took the towel off her head and her long red hair fell back over her shoulders. A happy smile lightened her whole face.
"Hi, Sun!"
"Hi, Olive," the Sun answered shining in the bright-blue sky.
She laughed merrily and went running to the bathroom. Quick, quick, she had to do a lot now. It was going to be a cool day!!!
Olive spent three hours, running to and fro like crazy; putting on and taking off clothes over a hundred times. She didn't know what to chose: the blue frock or the yellow top. She had it even harder with a hairstyle: first she curled her hair with an iron, then she poured half a bottle of gel on her hair - either way it looked just crap! So she had to rewash her hair, dry it and curl it again.
She emptied her makeup bag onto the dressing table and got down to business. Everything was set in motion: the lipstick, concealer, faicial powder, rouge, blue eye-shadows of Ruby Rose. And, of course, the mascara and black eyeliner - those were essentials. There was a lot of work to do: making her round and flat Asian face visually thinner and longer; the broad nose required thinning, too, and the narrow Chinese-like eyes - widening, in order to make her look more European. Also she wanted to hide all her freckles, especially that "piece o'crap" under her left eye, as she would call with irritation one pretty noticeable freckle on her face. In fact, that freckle wasn't so very conspicuous, but Olive fancied that people could only see that freckle and it needed a very good layer of concealer.
Those manipulations took another hour of her time. When she finally tore herself away from the mirror and glanced at her watch she realized that her time was up. Still she needed to do something with her hair that had straightened back by then. Then she, having hastily done her hair up in feathers and fiхed them with a slide, grabbed her purse and rushed out of the hotel building holding a compact with one hand and trying to adjust the crow's nest on her head with the other.
"Damn!"
Her feet equipped with high-heeled shoes, tripped on each other and Olive tumbled down the stairs. The new tights immediately ran down from her bruised knee.
"Tut-tut, miss. You should have been more careful!" said some passing-by guy over her head as he helped her up.
Olive looked up at her random interlocutor and got startled. In front of her stood a tall, handsome young man, no - Prince Charming from her sweet dreams. She had never seen such cute guys before.
"Are you in a hurry?" he inquired, looking intently at her with his wonderful green eyes with long black lashes.
"Yes... I've got a date by the skyscraper..." and, glancing at her legs, Olive gasped, flushing all over:
"God, my tights! Oh my God, I can't go like that!"
"It's okay, you can just take them off," said the guy with equanimity.
But Olive was inconsolable. She was literally on the verge of tears. How embarrassing!
"I'm running late as it is... And I don't know the way to the skyscraper... Oh, unlucky me!"
"I could take you there. You are not a local, are you?"
"No... I..."
Olive hesitated. She was afraid to confess she was from Moscow - the last winter's incident on Autustud forum had taught her well enough to hold her tongue for Moscovites were not at all welcome over here.
"I am from... I mean, from Murmansk," she lied.
The guy smiled with interest.
"Murmansk? Oh yes, I know. I used to live there for a while. A nice city, isn't it? What street do you live on?"
"On, umm... Cart street," Olive blurted out the first word that crossed her mind.
"Cart street?" asked the green-eyed guy, "Where is it? Can't remember such a street in Murmansk..."
"That's right, it's a new street. It's been built quite recently," and Olive hastened to change the subject:
"No, joking apart, I have to do something with my tights right now!"
"Oh, relax, it's not visible. Come with me, it's on my way. I've got a date by the skyscraper as well..."
"With a girl?" asked Olive with obvious disappointment in her voice.
The guy nodded.
Olive gave a sigh of chagrin. Sure, such a cute guy couldn't be single. And, no doubt, his girlfriend was not one bit such a ridiculous fool in torn tights as Olive. She was probably just as beautiful as him. While she, Olive, was going to meet some four-eyed nerd, bless him...
"By the way, we haven't introduced ourselves." said the tall guy, "My name is Daniel."
"Daniel?" Olive asked in astonishment, "I didn't know this name was so popular in Arkhangelsk. The guy I've got a date with is also named Daniel."
"Well, things happen," he admitted. "What is your name?"
"Olya..."
"What a coincidence... Careful!" he caught Olive by the arm as she had stumbled again on her high heels, "Olya, may I ask you a question? Of a personal nature..."
Olive reddened a bit.
"Shoot."
"Why did you put on such high-heeled shoes?"
"Because I'm too short." she muttered.
"You girls are bizarre," the guy chuckled, "We are almost there, though."
Olive looked forward and saw a white high building that reminded her of a long piece of sugar. On the other side a big green square spread out; it consisted mostly of lawns and flower beds; orange and yellow sprinkles of daisies were seen here and there on the well-cut grass. The square was surrounded by venerable white buildings; one of them was crowned with a Russian tricolor. "It must be the city hall" guessed Olive.
"Well, thank you for the company and good luck!"
And Olive's companion took leave of her, heading for the crowd of young people standing by the skyscraper and waiting for somebody to come.