There are two scenes left on the schedule, other students’ scenes, but Lara and Sasha are finished, spent. Silently, they creep downstairs and sit on the porch steps at the entrance to their school. Tears roll down Lara’s face as they sit there quietly, with no need to say a word. A trolleybus rolls by, its wires like the antennae of a gigantic insect. A knot of girls in uniforms and red pioneer scarves bustles past on their way from school. Sasha registers it all automatically, as if watching everything from behind glass because nothing matters anymore. A strange calm binds her like a bandage. She fears that she has failed on an unprecedented and profound level, that this school has never seen such a colossal flop, that her entire future has just tumbled into the abyss of professional unfitness.

When they are called, they slink inside to hear and accept the verdict. Sasha knows she is the only one to blame for this abominable journey, from the cursed moment when the name Grushenka floated into her brain warped by egoism and grandeur, to this disgraceful finale open to the eyes and ears of everyone she knows. The curtain is down, the committee is in the first row, and they quietly slide into the two seats next to the door. From here, it will be easier to escape the shame.

“Brothers Karamazov,” Vera announces. The title, with Sasha’s name attached to it, scrapes her ears, emphasizing the incongruity between the two, exposing her impudence to the entire school. Vera pauses and looks up. Sasha’s heart stops.

“The opinion of this committee is that in your scene, you have persuaded the audience by masterfully portraying the atmosphere of Dostoyevsky. Aleksandra Maltseva will receive the highest grade and credit with distinction. The scene is judged outstanding and will serve as proof of high professionalism in her acting diploma.”

This is when Sasha feels that something has cinched her throat, and she knows she is crying. She heaves with sobs as if a dam has broken, releasing all that has been stored inside since she first read the Grushenka scene. A few friends jump up from their seats, but Vera stops them. “Let her cry,” she says, waving her hand. “She needs to let it out.”