My Ice Prince

'Wait a minute, Misha, just because you're going to socialise with her doesn't mean it's dangerous,' I thought, reassuring myself. – And about the fridge… I'll think of something. But it'll be fun for the two of us!»

– All right, Mary. Stay! – I said cheerfully.

She shrieked with joy and hugged me.

– Thank you! Thank you! Oh, you're so cold! Are you cold? Let me make you some hot tea. – She rushed into the kitchen.

– No, that's okay! You'd better tell me where I can make a college uniform! – I hurriedly shouted to her.

– Of course I'll tell you! Our neighbour runs a sewing shop. Are you going to Oxford? – Mary came out of the kitchen and brought me a mug of steaming hot tea.

I took it confusedly.

– I shouldn't have, thank you» I mumbled, not sure what I was going to do with it. Certainly not to drink tea! I hadn't drunk or eaten anything human since I'd had ice cream in Karlovy Vary. I hated human food that day.

– Can we go there right now? – I asked, trying to avoid the damn tea.

– Now? But you just got here.

– I'm not tired at all. Shall we?

– All right, but change your clothes: it's quite cold outside.

– I'll be right back!

Putting the mug on the table, I ran to my bedroom and quickly changed into jeans and a warm tunic to look like people at this time. I grabbed my wallet and put it in my favourite black shoulder purse and walked out into the hallway.

– Wow, you look so pretty! – I heard Mary's voice behind me.

I felt embarrassed: my looks didn't impress me.

– Thank you, you too» I answered her.

– Guys must be chasing you around! – Mary giggled, fiddling with her boots.

«Maybe I should go with boots too? I don't think I know how people dress in autumn at all!» – I thought, but still, I put on my sneakers and put on my tunic and my blue jacket.

– You're wrong. And let's not talk about that, shall we? – I asked, embarrassed by Mary's words.

– Tell me, did Harry ever flirt with you? – It was as if she hadn't heard me.

It's a good thing I'm not blushing, or I'd be as red as a cancer.

– No, he didn't. I asked you to! – I said reproachfully. – I don't like these conversations!

– But why? I just…» She cut herself off, glancing at me.

We left the house in silence. I closed the door.

– Wow, the first time! It took me twenty minutes to open it today» she exclaimed. – You've got talent!

– You just have to push on the lock, that's all. Well, take me to your seamstress» I said, already cooled by my irritation.

Mary laughed merrily and, taking me by the arm (which I hadn't expected), led me into the workshop.

– Where did you come from? – Mary asked.

– Warsaw. That's the capital of Poland. Maybe you've been there? – I answered.

– So you're Polish? Yeah, you have a weird accent. No, to be honest, I haven't been off the island at all, and I don't want to. I just want to live in Oxford, work, go out, have fun, you know, live.

She tripped, but I was just in time to stop her from falling.

– Wow, thank you… You're ski

«Why does she keep emphasising that?» – I thought irritably.

We stepped out into the middle of the road, and we were enveloped by the still diffuse rays of the morning sun. It felt really nice, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I loved the sun.

How abruptly my life had changed! Just yesterday I was going to live alone and not socialise with people. Harry didn't count – it was just an experiment. Now I was walking hand in hand with this strange, laughing girl, almost a punk, who I would be sharing my house with. If my parents or any of my parents found out about this, I'd be killed!

– Harry told me you were studying in Scotland» I said, determined to find out more about Mary.

– Harry doesn't know I'm here. Yes, I went to school there, and then I wanted to go to college, but I didn't get an interview, and do you know why? I forgot to take off my nose piercing, and it's such a strict college! They have such terrible rules! – Mary even shook her head.

– Then why did you want to go there? You're so free-spirited» I said, not wanting to offend her with the word «free-spirited».

– It's not me, it's Harry, he's been so insistent on reeducating me. He thinks I'm a tomguy. But I'm not.

I didn't say anything because I was thinking what Harry was thinking.

– Do you have any brothers or sisters? – Mary asked.

At that moment, two cyclists rode past us shouting, «Hello girls!»

I frowned and Mary shouted after them: «Hi!»

– Yes: I have two older brothers and two older sisters. One is married and lives in the Czech Republic, and the other, Maria, rented your house three years ago. Do you remember her? – I asked.

– No, I wasn't in England then : I was at school in Edinburgh» she answered, covering her eyes from the sun with her palm. – Well, here we are!

We stopped in front of a small window displaying female and male ma

We entered. The bell on the door rang.

– By the way, Aunt Mel is considered the best seamstress in Oxford. Do you know how many people dress at her place? – Mary said to me. – Hey, Aunt Mel, I've brought you a customer!

– I'm coming, I'm coming! – Out of a side door came a full elderly woman with completely grey hair. – Mary, my girl, are you back?

– Yes, Aunt Mel! I'm going to work in Reverend Charles' office! – Mary hugged the seamstress.

– «Office»? What a word you've chosen! By the way, the orphanage is a holy place! – Aunt Mel said with a laugh.

– Oh, you're at it again! – Mary laughed. – How you like to teach me!

– Don't you laugh: I've been in this world sixty-five years, and I know more than you! – grumbled the seamstress.

«She's sixty-five? And she looks so awful? Thank God I'll never be that ugly!» – I thought as I looked round at Aunt Mel, who looked sad, and marvelled at the contrast between her and my beautiful young parents.

How amazing: people take this ugly old age for granted, and we take for granted our eternal youth and beauty. How different creatures we are!

– What's your name, my girl? – the seamstress turned to me.

– Marsha, and she's Polish» Mary said before I could even open my mouth.

– Not Marsha, but Mischa» I corrected her calmly.

– Yes, I'm sorry, it's just that the names are very similar» Mary apologised, then turned to the seamstress. – She needs a uniform for Oxford.

– Oxford? What a clever girl you are, Misha!» Auntie Mel complimented me. I smiled falsely. – Then let's go to the fitting room. Take off your jacket and jumper and we'll take your measurements.

I followed her into the fitting room, took off my jacket and tunic and stayed in my bra and jeans.

– Polish girls are as beautiful as ours» said the seamstress. – It's very interesting: you are so tall and yet so thin. Not a model, by any chance?

– No, I just don't have an appetite» I told her.

– Do you keep your figure? – Mary asked when she came in. – You're so thin! Well, I'll make you fattened up! I wonder how you got breasts when you're so thin.

– Mary, don't talk rubbish! – Aunt Mel told her off. – Look, you might offend her. Misha, don't pay any attention to her because you have a marvellous figure.

– It's not offensive at all» I smiled, having long ago thought of an excuse for my thi

– You poor thing. What are you allowed to eat? – asked the seamstress, measuring my waist.

– Well, not much: tomatoes… Cucumbers… Sometimes apples, – I thought up, confused, as I had never thought that someone would ask about it.