She came in late, after the first hour had already started. As soon as I saw her I realized something was wrong. She was sloppily dressed, which has never happened before, not in all the time I’ve known her. But what struck me most of all was her expression. I watched her all through the five hours of lessons. She was absent, her eyes were staring, she didn’t hear whenever anyone—not me, I didn’t have the courage—said something to her, and she didn’t smile once all morning. The Italian teacher caught her not paying attention three times during her explanation and in the end gave her a warning. It was the first time I’d seen her get a warning in these last two years. At the end of the fifth hour she left without talking to anybody, moving like a junkie, and didn’t even seem to know where the way out was. There wasn’t anyone waiting for her outside on a moped or anything like that. She left alone, after passing like a sleepwalker between all the boys and girls chatting and making a noise outside the main entrance.
