Prologue

The telephone was ringing. It was ringing. Ringing. Ringing. Then stopped. The old man in the bed, covered his head with the blanket and turned to the other side and tried to fall asleep again. 'Installing a telephone in the bedroom was a bad idea…' he thought, never minding to open his eyes. Sleep was so close, dreams were almost tangible… But the telephone started ringing again.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" the man cursed, sitting up and taking the receiver, glancing at the clock along the way. 'Three in the morning! Who the hell can that be?' with palpable annoyance in his voice the old man finally said: "Hello."

"Yo, Rob! How's it going, ol' pal?" was the cheerful answer from the other side of the line.

"Ma-Makarov?" Rob spat, almost jumping from his bed with wide eyes. "Are you completely out of it, old fool? Calling me in the middle of the night! Who the hell gave you my number anyway?"

"Bo-ho," Makarov teased. "Is that anyway to great an old friend, who hasn't showed up for five years?"

"My point exactly! You disappeared for all this time and never even gave any contacts! I thought you dropped dead somewhere…"

"Nah, I'm too young for that," Makarov replied childishly; and no matter how angry Rob had been with him, he forgot all about it in a second. It was his cheerful friend after all, and he was well, that's what counted. So Rob laughed into the receiver and so did his old friend. "So, still wanna know where I got the phone number?" Makarov asked although he pretty sure knew the answer.

"Nah, not really. I was just pissed and all that…" he smiled and felt that the other man did the same thing. "So why are you calling? It's got to be something important, if you decided to call."

"Well, yeah… Rob, you've got to help me!" Makarov almost pleaded.

"W-what's wrong?"

"Well… I'm kind of… you know," the old man said doubtfully, but then decided to spit it out and hope for the best. "I've decided to become a teacher, like you! I'm really fond of kids you know… I like to see them grow and stuff…"

"Go on," Rob was growing suspicious.

"Well, I worked as a teacher for a year, got promoted and started working as a principal, and after another year went to a University, where they now put me in charge, so… I'm a rector, just like you, pal!" he said in raised spirits, and although Rob was happy for his old friend he still felt that this was not the reason he was calling.

"Congratulations, Makarov! I'm glad you finally quit with the alcohol," for Rob the two things 'teaching' and 'staying sober' were inseparable, which didn't go the same way with Makarov though.

"Hehe, yeah…" he laughed the matter off.

"So what's the business? I bet you didn't call me to enlighten on your latest achievements…"

Makarov sighed heavily and took a short pause before continuing. "The history teacher… He's driving me crazy. Plus, he's gonna destroy the campus someday…"

"Fire him," was the plain and logical reply.

Makarov gave out a heavy sigh again. "I can't…"

"Why not?"

"Students adore him. His lectures are always vivid and interesting and he's flexible with grades…"

"I see…" yep, Rob could understand the situation. "So what can I do? Fire him for you?" was the sarcastic question.

"Ha-ha, real funny," Makarov almost pouted. "I've heard that you have an exchange program at your University. And that the rules and discipline are really strict and all that…"

"Old man, have you been stalking me?" Rob laughed.

"If you listened carefully I was stalking your University."

"Touché."

They laughed again. Just like in the old times. And this comfortable laughter made Rob feel that he won't be able to say 'no' to any request from his old friend, especially the one he figured Makarov was about to ask of.

"So you want me to re-educate your hyperactive history teacher?"

"Something like that," Makarov confessed. "I heard the program starts next week… I'm probably late, but I still needed to take a shot…"

"Well, fortunately I have also chosen a history teacher for exchange, the one you might find very clever and very boring, but I have chosen another University for him to go to…"

"Oh, I see…" Makarov said sadly. "I should have called earlier."

"Makarov?"

"Huh?"

"Remember, when we were in college at the graduation party and I fell asleep drunk as a lord near the punch bowl?"

"Hahaha!" Makarov laughed into the receiver. "Right after you threw up on Potlyusica's new dress! She never even got a chance to punch you, cause dropped dead right away!"

"Yep, and then I fell into the bowl," silence followed on both ends of the line. "I would have drowned if you hadn't gotten me out. I never actually repaid you for that…"

"Rob… it's been ages ago, you shouldn't bother…"

"Send your teacher over," he said with a small smile. "I'll settle things here."

"Really?" there was gratitude in the old man's voice. "I owe you a big one, Rob!"

"Tsk, have you gone deaf, old man? I told you that's my way to repay you," then after a pause. "So what's the man's name?"