* * *

The new watchman was moved in on the second day, and he was... well, not a hero at all! He was slouching and unshaven, with two big arms and legs, and he smelt like the crippled Uncle Kolya had never allowed himself to smell. And when he said hello, baring yellow teeth, I realized - this is what real cannibals look like...

He also fought painfully, dragged muddy water in an unlabelled bottle, and smoked a cigarette out the window. And that was on the first day - as soon as the babysitter closed the door behind her.

Halfway through the night, tormented by the bad smell and pain in my leg, I went over ways to deal with the ogre. There was a foolproof method: the cat in boots. But there were no boots.

The uncle had forbidden me to use the gift openly, which made me feel even sadder. I didn't want to complain to the babysitter; I could do it myself, but I had to figure out how.

And so I lay staring up at the ceiling, cringing at the snoring of the new neighbor. I'd rather have Laika. She's a better watcher and smells tastier. And it's all right that she's untrained. She can be trained. One cutlet and Laika already know the commands "sit" and "voice". I wish it were that easy with humans. Hmm!

I reached under the mattress and pulled out the cherished dictionary volume. Where is the letter "T"? Training is learning by alternating positive and negative reinforcement. And it's never too late to learn - everyone knows that. And neither is learning!

I looked at my neighbor and shook my head in the negative - I'm certainly not giving him a cutlet. And I wouldn't give him a belt, either, I grimaced. I was scratching at the bruise on my leg.

I wish I could be invisible... Or I wish I had a strong friend to punish the evil man. Or better yet, a strong and invisible friend! Hm-hm-hm! Why would he really exist? The lips touched a sly smile - just like the man behind the fence when he was looking at the forgotten coil of wire.

I got up early in the morning (it was easy) and, with some leftover sugar from Uncle Kolya, set out to make good.

When Uncle Sergei woke up and came out of the room, he found two dozen children staring at him regretfully, shaking their heads and recoiling as soon as he stepped aside. Understandably, the new watchman could not stand it.

"What?" he barked angrily.

"Uncle, did you know that a housekeeper lives in this room?" The owner of ten cubes of raffinate muttered frightenedly.

"Get out of here, you little brat!"

"You should," the others exhaled together (we rehearsed!), "we're warning everyone."

Even the ogre was touched.

"About what?" Uncle Sergei was already cautiously interrogating me.

"Did you know the old watchman was missing an arm and a leg?" Uncle Sergei was asked in a low voice from behind, and he twitched and turned sharply.

"And what?"

"We warned him, too..." the boys stretched out and then diverged abruptly, losing all interest in the place.

"Ugh, bloody hell," Uncle Sergei spat on the floor.

He was nervous all the way through the evening, only calming down just before he went to bed. Wrong.

As the watchman sank tiredly onto the mattress, an electric shock ran from the foot of the bed to the base of his skull.

Uncle Sergei flew to the floor, grabbed the bed again, and flew back to my bed.

"W-what the hell..." the watchman stammered.

"The housekeeper," I answered as a matter of course.

"Why didn't you say so?!" The ogre yelled at me angrily.

"I wanted to, but you beat me down," I shrugged. "Good night."

"What to do?" The man ran his hand through his hair. "Hey, kid, get out of here. I'll sleep on your bed."

"It won't help."

But I dutifully left the bed, wondering if my bed would get electrocuted or if more of that mysterious "voltage" was needed. Last time it was enough to discharge with the emotion "I guess it's interesting", but I have two mattresses (people will do a lot for sugar).

"Damn!" Uncle Sergei flew upwards and bumped to the floor in an arc.

I walked around, poked him on the shoulder with the tip of my foot, waited for no answer, and started figuring out how many pieces of coloring paper it would take to cover up the body. No, I could also knock the wall down on it - Uncle Kolya said that the building was dilapidated, and I could bring it all down with a careless blow... oh, he moved!

"Mother!"

"And she's not here," I replied sympathetically, "no one has her here."

Uncle Sergei huddled against the wall and stared sadly at the bed, figuring something out.

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"The Housekeeper doesn't like dirty people," I advised him. "But you may not believe it."

The new watchman looked at me strangely - I thought he was going to beat me up. Instead, he grabbed some things from the drawer and left for an hour. He came back clean and refreshed. He touched the bed with great care, touched the blanket with his hands, and sat down slowly, exhaling.

"If it wasn't with me... I never would have believed it," he whispered under his breath. "Hey, kid... any more rules?"

"Two pieces of sugar over there," I nodded to the corner near the exit of the room - there was already a special bowl lying there "and don't beat me."

"What, is it also a rule?" he glared.

"I've been paying the Housekeeper for five years, and you've been here for the first day," I shrugged again and rolled onto my side against the wall.

A minute later, two sugar cubes clinked against the tiles behind him. Mwha-ha-ha-ha-ha! as the labor teacher used to say when I brought him some of that murky liquid to swap for wire.

For the next two weeks, we learned to be clean. Then the Housekeeper didn't like that Uncle Sergei smoked, and after another two months, he gave up drinking too.

In early August, he arrived in a nice black suit, white shirt, and tie, neatly cut. I didn't even recognize him at first, though I saw him walking leisurely from the entrance down the path to the door, past the buzzing crowd of kids who had just been brought in from the excursion - and the boys didn't recognize him either.

"I quit, Maxim," he explained with a smile, noticing the amazement of recognition on my face. "I'm an insurance agent now."

The imposing (I want a suit, too!) man walked over to his cabinet, opened it, looking inside. He chewed his lips and closed them, taking only a huge box of sugar cubes in his hands. Well, it was understandable - the most valuable things had to be taken away.

"Ah..."

"I came to the boarding school to ask former colleagues if anyone needs insurance. These are turbulent times," he said confidently.

"Let them insure the boarding school against fire."

"Good idea, I will definitely suggest it," he smiled at me.

Well, I did the best I could.

Uncle Sergei walked past and carefully placed the whole huge box of sugar on the housekeeper's saucer.

"Thank you," he whispered, definitely not to me.

"You're leaving permanently," I sighed, not even asking.

"I really hope so."

Now I have to teach a new one, I thought wistfully.

"Here, don't be sad," he shoved a beautifully colored rectangle with the number five on it. "For ice cream. Goodbye!"

Quietly the door flap closed, not letting my belated "Thank you!" reach the uncle.

I tucked the beautiful rectangle into my pocket. Since such a thing could be exchanged for the legendary ice cream, I would keep it safe. I wonder if five is five ice cream. Though it would be better in kilograms, of course... Anyway, the ice cream was only in town, which meant there was no way I could get to it.

The boys are lucky - I looked out the window again at the huge yellow bus and the boys in matching white T-shirts and grey shorts, tapping solidly on the wheel (one by one). Today our sponsor (that's the kind of person who bought a huge color TV for the common room) took the high school kids to his factory to show off. I wanted to go too, and even stood in the general queue, but before the doors, I was snatched away by the huge clawed hands of a babysitter and dragged away to the gym to run. I wonder if you can swap a pretty picture for five tons of ice cream in that factory.

Hmm, why aren't they leaving now that they're here? I walked out of the room and intercepted Slavka - he had already tapped the wheel and was now standing off to the side, looking proud.

"Slava, hi. How was it?" I was eager for more details, but I kept an indifferent look.

Like, I've seen your excurs... excurs... sions.

"A cardboard factory," he shrugged.

"And what's in it?"

"Cardboard, cardboard boxes, cardboard packaging. They called me to work. Here, they gave it to me," he pulled a snow-white pen with a logo on it from his front pocket.

"Hmm," I intercepted the pen and flicked the spring thoughtfully. "Two cubes."

"Five."

"All right," I smiled, letting him win. I have further to ask him! "What are you standing there for now?"

"All the well-behaved will be taken to the zoo," said Slava, evidently pleased. "But it's a secret! Only twenty people will be taken.

"You, too?" I raised an eyebrow, desperately jealous.

"Aha! They'll call the others for lunch, and we'll be on our way."

"They'll beat you up," I determined his future accurately.

"It doesn't matter," he waved his hand. "It's worth it."

I caught myself nodding vigorously.

"What, is that coming too?" I glanced at an old acquaintance, Edik, whose nose I had once broken.

The person I was talking about was now standing in the company of other guys who surrounded the bus driver and looked up at him admiringly. It was not him, but the legendary cap with the peak, which did not prevent the man from squaring his shoulders proudly and looking back significantly.

"Lucky," shrugged Slavka.

It turned out that the extremely unpleasant type would go to the mysterious zoo, while I, the owner of a ticket for five infinities of ice cream, would stay here. It doesn't have to be that way!

"Max, what are you doing?" I was touched on the shoulder by Slavka.

I had to take my hands off my belt and roll up my imaginary superhero cape.

I looked around at the huge yellow bus, strolling around it, looking at the straight - and so far empty - rows of seats. The doors were closed, except for the first one, near which the driver was chewing an unlit cigarette. The vents were open. It was hot. Hm. But it was silly to get into them in front of everybody.

"Slava, what would you do for ice cream?" I asked in a businesslike tone.

I was younger than Slava, shorter, and unable to whistle through my teeth. But now the eyes were looking at me, full of readiness and hope.

Everyone at the boarding school knew that this was the voice that sounded like the best deals. Cutlets, sugar, chocolate - I had it all. The labor teacher, hearing this tone, tried to add a patronymic to my name. The gym teacher opened the door wide to the warehouse and offered to take whatever I wanted. Because they knew - everything was serious, this was no joke, and the reward would always be paid on time. And at first, I just got rid of whatever the "housekeeper" was picking up. Then I liked it, so I exchanged liquid for things, things for labor, labor for cutlets, cutlets for strength, strength for fear, and fear again for liquid.

"No need to hit anyone," I clarified, noticing Slavka's unkind glance at my foe.

"I'm listening," he licked his lips.

"Wait here, I'll be right back."

The plan lined up on its own, there was just one tiny thing left to take from the hiding place under the coloring books.

I froze in front of the door to the room, thought for a moment, and turned resolutely towards the stairs. But first, weapons! The city is full of dangers.

In a couple of minutes, I was standing in front of the open door of the medicine box, peering into its contents. There it was - glowing dimly with danger and pain. The weapon fits comfortably in my hand - cool to the touch, smooth, with a round lattice tip at one end. It gave me confidence and a sense of security. A complex and difficult-to-read name ran along the surface, but I - and the rest of us - would suffice with the true name. A weapon I didn't use, even when the gang from 7-B decided to take over the cutlet business. A weapon whose soothing coldness enabled me to pick myself up in due course and answer the question, "Who are you in life?" with dignity. - in the darkness of the basement staircase - but even then, I didn't use it. I hope his hour will not come today. Closing the flap carefully, I went back to my room and got the thing I needed from my hiding place. Now to the courtyard. One more step to go. City, here I come.

* * *

Chapter 9

Honour and Ice cream