Red Star

Chapter 19

The meeting with journalists took place on Monday, and on Thursday in the " Soviet Russia "on the second page was printed material under the headline:"and everything took over."

In a pathetic but well-written article, it was told about "an ordinary 14-year-old Leningrad pioneer", whose life path once crossed with the "animal path of an armed recidivist". It happened on the landing of a residential building, where the criminal "has already waylaid his next victim." The schoolboy was scared, he would have liked to call someone for help, but there was no one nearby. Only " him, an armed felon, and an unconscious 12-year-old girl." It was possible to run away, but how to leave a helpless girl? And then, "as in the distant 41st his grandfather" (here followed the description of the military history with his grandfather), the boy "took everything on himself". He got into a desperate fight with a criminal who "had nothing to lose". As a result, the criminal was neutralized and then arrested by police officers. And the schoolboy, the next day, had the final of the city sports competition " Golden gloves "and,"fearing to miss it, he did not tell anyone that he was wounded with a knife in the fight." The boy won the final fight and, only after that, in front of the entire audience, "fell into the winning ring for him, from blood loss from the opened wound." Doctors saved the hero. As the Deputy Minister of the Ministry of internal Affairs, Lieutenant General Yu. m. Churbanov said, assessing what happened: "Vitya Seleznev did not win the Golden gloves tournament, he won the Golden heart, which was brought up by the Motherland, parents and examples of our grandfathers - war heroes. The same boys crushed the German beast in their time, restored and made our Homeland indestructible, and now they are building BAM, studying, living and working according to their conscience." And in ordinary life, Vitya Seleznev finishes the seventh grade, almost an excellent student, and in addition to sports, he writes wonderful songs. And not for nothing in one of them, dedicated to the Soviet Army, there are such words: "The country does not rely on us for nothing!" Yes, as long as we have millions of guys like Vitya Seleznev, and the country and the army have someone to rely on and hope for. " the

Article was crowned by my rather big photo: a little head thrown back and a white-toothed smile. I to the men, all their lives, were indifferent, but the guy with the newspaper was really the "krasavcheg"!

On Friday, articles about the schoolboy hero were published in four other Newspapers.

In the "Komsomolskaya Pravda" article " I do not know how it was possible to do otherwise!" it took up half a page! Charming Verochka turned around in full force, there were "the dark gleam of the blade", and "the girl's eyes crying for help", and "a bloody fight with a non-human who lost his human form", and "a hero in the ring and in life", and many more such bright images. I admit that when I read it, I really admired myself! From" my " March, the first verse and chorus were printed, next to a large photo of a romantic me, with a dreamy smile, leaning against a birch tree.

Youth "Change" in addition to the main story, inserted the words of my headmistress that what happened, everyone in the school learned only from the police and journalists, about how good I am, modest and how proud they are of me. Just "smenovtsy" inserted a comment of some famous Leningrad boxer that the fight with a knife wound is akin to my second feat, and that it is from such guys that diehard Champions grow up, which our country is proud of. My photo with a devilishly charming smile was also a constant attribute.

"Leningradskaya Pravda" added an article with a dry, to my taste, list of facts, mentioning my grandfather-a veteran. The military history I told in the Caspian sea was also described. The text said that my father was a military pilot and concluded that the current grandchildren are worthy of the exploits of their grandfathers and the courage of their fathers. There was no mention of Boxing at all. In General, it would have turned out to be a mediocre article, if not for the very reason for writing it. The photo was a match for the article - my pug with a pioneer tie, cropped as a document. In short, the policeman was incompetent.

"Pionerskaya Pravda" and that seemed more interesting! The fat girl, restrained by the specifics of her publication, enthusiastically wrote about a pioneer, an excellent student and an athlete who writes poems and songs, and recently also detained an armed criminal. Here the text of the March was printed in full, along with a photo of me laughing, rolling down the railing of the school porch.

I, of course, tried posing, but I should pay tribute to the photographer-a professional. The kid in the photos just couldn't help but like it!

***

Again, I marveled at the speed of events. "Savraska" released material just two days after the interview. Amazing efficiency!

On Thursday, the headmaster told me about the article. She called me to her office, showed me Soviet Russia, and shook my hand, looking me in the eye. From the reception of the headmistress, I dialed Lech and asked him to buy twenty Newspapers, as a souvenir! On Friday, I didn't go to school. Did not dare and did the right thing, Friday the articles came out the other four Newspapers...

My mother, at once confused, frightened, and flattered by the first newspaper article, easily went to meet me and on Friday morning called the headmistress for permission to stop coming to school this school year. She immediately agreed and, apparently, was only happy about this turn of events.

So, summer vacation, for me, came on the morning of may 26! When my mother left for work, I tried to get back into bed, but the adult habit of "getting enough sleep" in my new role did not work. Therefore, after 10 minutes of senseless and hopeless felting, I cheerfully stomped to do exercises, only slightly protecting the side that almost did not bother me.

At the beginning of the tenth I called Lech, who was on the weekend and, like me, was doing nothing. Delighted with my snotty company, he was already eating my lunch with an appetite in half an hour!

Then we were going to go to the Harbor to check out our property, but at that moment the phone rang. My excited mother told me that there were new articles about me in today's Newspapers and proudly added that they were now being read in all departments of her research Institute and I should quickly go to the nearest soyuzpechati kiosk before the last copies were sold out. After being assured that she loves me and kisses me, I promised to immediately go to the newspaper shopping!

The next phone call found us at the open front door. Squeezing between Lech and the jamb, I returned to the phone and, sure that it was my mother again, muttered into the phone:

- Smolny ... the

Puzzled silence in the phone showed that my assumptions were wrong.

- Joke. Hello ... a

Young and extremely pleasant female voice said:

- Hello, and you can ask Victor.

- Verochka, my soul, I dedicate poems to You, and You are so officially - "Viktor", you would still call me Viktor Stanislavovich or even comrade Seleznev! I said in a silly nasal voice, delighted to the point of stupefaction at her call.

- So. Past again. I don't have much luck at guessing games today... Hello, Hello! This is Victor, with whom I have the honor? I was a little confused.

- Hello, Victor. My name is Lyudmila ... e... Petrovna. Senchina. I wanted to talk to you... talk...

- Oh! Lyudmila Petrovna, Hello! Sorry, I confused You with one... I began to kindly crucify myself into the phone and, at the same time, made signs to Lech to return to the apartment. Having decided to take the initiative in the conversation in their own hands, immediately got down to business:

- How good That you called, I wrote a song for a female voice and I would venture to assume that no one can perform it better than You!

"Er ... that's why I called.".. a journalist I know told me what you said about the song... the singer was obviously having trouble choosing her words.

Then it occurred to me that not seeing the other person in front of me, I forgot myself and began to communicate in my "adult" manner, which led Senchin to obvious confusion. By the way.. "a friend of the journalist," her and my home number kindly gave? Heh!

- Yes, there is a song! How can we meet so that I can show it to You? - I was consistently offensive!

- Encounter... Has it been recorded yet? - "Lyudmila Petrovna" was confused.

- No, but the words are completely ready and the melody is invented! I'll sing as well as I can, and it won't be difficult to find the notes."

- Well... When can we meet? she asked uncertainly.

"I can be there in an hour, anywhere you like."

- Well, - her voice began to sound more confident-come to our orchestra, on the 13th line of Vasilievsky island, number 18 and ask me at the checkpoint, you will be escorted.

- Negotiated. I'll be there in an hour! Goodbye. I hung up.

"Well?" - tired of waiting for Lech, longed for news.

- Senchina. Waiting for us in an hour on Vasilievsky, line 13. We went to your place to change, then drove to the Harbor, I have the words of the song in my notebook. And then to the thirteenth line.

Stunned by this news, Lech examined his "work" shirt and did not argue with the obvious...

Twenty minutes later, we were on our way to the Harbor, fashionable, coiffed, and wearing sunglasses. I first put on my denim suit "on the way out" and could not help but admit, looking at the mirror of the old trilyazh of Lehina's aunt, that "beauty is a terrible force"! I also "robbed" the soyuzpechati kiosk, buying all the remaining issues of Komsomolka, Leningradka, Smenka, and Pionerka from an astonished saleswoman, and on the way to the Harbor, I read articles about my favorite person to the chuckling Lech.

On the pier, Mitrich, delighted with the guests, was animatedly telling Lech, who was nodding his head solemnly, the latest news. And the "talented" me, sitting on the second-residential floor of our hangar, hastily copied from the iPhone to the school notebook, "my" future netlenka.

At the same time, I quickly looked through three sites with Senchina's biography. From which I extracted information that Senchina is now working as a soloist in the Leningrad concert orchestra, which is led by Anatoly Beavis. The one who literally made Senchina sing a "children's" song about Cinderella, with which She eventually became famous. She sang it for the first time in 1970, and won a prize for it in Bratislava in 1974. From the original, in her repertoire was the same children's- "Forest deer" and a chic romance from the movie "Days of the Turbins". Knowing this, we can say that nothing else will be a hit in her life. But now Senchina is very popular, young and beautiful. Only after all, I, in fact, am not interested in her, but only one, her most important fan.

Exactly at 11 o'clock we were standing at the entrance to the house where the Leningrad concert orchestra was located, and the grandmother-watchman was dialing the phone dial, squinting at the mighty figure of Lehi.

The girl who came to pick us up, a colorless girl in a ridiculous black beret, led our couple for five minutes in silence through long and dark corridors and finally led us to a small empty room with a black piano and three rows of shabby seats.

Also, without uttering a sound, she showed us the seats and left.

- Hospitable, - Lech commented with a hint of humor.

"She went to get a bottle," I said.

"What bottle?" - blunted "big brother".

- Well, there are three of us with her, it's a sin not to "figure it out"!

- One bottle will not save the situation, - Alexey philosophically assessed the chances of the girl.

We laughed weakly.

After about ten minutes of waiting, the door to the hall swings open to admit a small man in rumpled brown trousers and a long black jacket, striding purposefully. His thick-lensed black-rimmed glasses glisten belligerently, and his sparse hair is combed back over the top of his bald head, completing the look of a battered but still-spirited fighting c**k:

- Hello, young man, so you are the poet and composer? - slightly Burr, interested in "rooster", simultaneously, nodding to Lech.

- Hello, Victor! - there is a melodious voice from the door - sorry to keep you waiting, we had a rehearsal-Senchina enters the hall. Slim but feminine figure, tight fashionable jeans and loose hair. Straight, picture... I Understand Grigory Vasilyevich!

- Hello! Well, really, what's the expectation? - I'm showing off-let me introduce you, this is Alexey-my friend.

A large figure looms over Senchina, mumbles "very nice Alexey" and... leaning over, kisses her hand. Senchina smiles.

I turn to the rooster":

- Hello, Anatoly Samuilovich. Yes, I am the poet and composer. Hopefully soon - a very famous poet and composer, perhaps with your help.

"How do you know me?" the orchestra leader asks, slightly discouraged.

"You're a famous person," I say neutrally. Not to explain to the person that his photo was just on the site about Senchina and caught my eye.

"Well," takes himself in hand Beavis - ask the piano, we are ready to listen to you.

He goes to the first row of seats, sits down himself, and makes an inviting gesture with Senchina.

I go up to him and sit down next to him, across the chair:

- the Fact is, dear Anatoly Samuilovich, that I do not know the instrument well enough. So I can either just sing the melody, or someone will be able to perform the melody from the voice.

Beavis looks at me in disbelief and asks,

" can't you play the piano?" So how do you want to compose music?

I was getting a little annoyed. Especially since he was right and it hurt my ego:

"You see, Anatoly Samuilovich," I began calmly, " there are many people in the world who can play various musical instruments and a few who can compose a good melody. I can, it's enough for me that I don't even plan to learn to play anything.

Beavis looked at me in silence. Apparently, he was amazed at the extent of my self-confident ignorance. To himself, because, after all, he was silent.

- Can we listen to a song then? Senchina offered hesitantly, breaking the awkward pause that had gone on.

"If you please," Beavis said, and leaned back in his chair, pretending to be wasting his time in this situation.

I pull myself together until it's time to show my emotions and start:

- I wrote the Song, as if based on "Cinderella" and "Forest deer", especially for Senchin - I try to smile in the direction of the singer, she also smiles back.

- The performance is on behalf of a girl-a girl, she sings about a small magical country where good reigns, dreams come true and where all the recognizable images from children's fairy tales live (I quote from memory from one of the sites I read today). I called the song "Little country".

And already addressing directly to Senchina, said:

- for the voice do not blame, mentally substitute your own, and find a musician who will put the melody on the notes, I can without problems - not without poison, I finish. Beavis imperturbably portrays the Buddha.

I open my notebook with my hurried scribbles, clear my throat, and begin to sing softly:

there

Is a small country beyond the mountains, and beyond the forests, and

there are animals with kind eyes,

There life is full of love-a,

there is a miracle lake-o sparkles, there is no evil and grief...

Beavis leaps out of his chair and rushes to the piano. For the entire second verse, he picks up the notes to match my voice. Senchina moves to the next chair and listens intently. I perform the chorus as a duet with her, to full accompaniment.

No matter how hard she tries, she can't make out my scrawl in the notebook, so I also sing the third verse alone, and she sings the chorus alone.

The last note fades and Beavis, turning quickly to me from the piano, asks the question:

- you, young man, did you write this song yourself?

- You see, Anatoly Samuilovich, - I answer with the utmost impudence - the first musician who came across managed to pick up the notes, and you were worried.

"Don't you think you're being rude, young man?" - Beavis evil narrows his eyes.

"Is this coming from the person who just suggested that I stole the song from someone?" Or is this coming from the person who ten minutes ago made it clear to me that I was an uneducated jerk for not being able to play the piano? I say the second question in Italian, and when Beavis doesn't understand, I repeat it in perfect English. This language he clearly understood.

Beavis is confused. Senchina's eyes flutter in confusion, looking from him to me. I get up:

- Well, since our communication begins with mutual complaints and obvious misunderstandings, I will allow myself to take my leave. I go to the door, and Lech's footsteps thump behind me.

We leave and, behind the closed door, I hear Beavis's desperate falsetto:

- Luda, return it!..