The Day Before Graduation

The morning of graduation began around two in the afternoon. Well, whenever you wake up, that's morning, right? Up until this very day, the students had been racing to finish their studies—taking exams, retaking them, and then retaking them again. They'd been closing clearance forms, pleading, promising, persuading, and surprising. In short, they'd been grinding out their final grades, practically wielding a baseball bat to get what they wanted—by any means necessary. 

None of them could remember exactly how the last month of their lives had passed. This was the first day they could allow themselves a proper sleep. Well, "proper" might be an overstatement. 

Dasha's hair looked like an anthill after a firework explosion, and the dark circles under her eyes were so prominent that it seemed like she had forgotten to take off her sunglasses. As she shuffled into the kitchen of their apartment—the one they had shared for the past three years—Dasha looked like such a wreck that she wouldn't have inspired desire even in a blind, deaf, and mute person with no arms or legs who had spent a year in solitary confinement. 

Anya was still asleep on the kitchen sofa, a chip bag stuck to her face while her disheveled hair was evenly sprinkled with stray chips. Vadim was passed out in an armchair in the living room, too exhausted to make it to a bed. Max hadn't managed that heroic feat either, but at least he had tried—sleep had caught him right on the floor in the middle of the room, with Anya's bag serving as a makeshift pillow. And then there was Artem, the only one who had made it to Max's bed. His own room had been just a couple of steps farther, after all. He lay there like a cherubic infant, with an angelic face, a faint smile, and slightly parted, bright, plump lips. Somehow, no dirt ever seemed to stick to him. 

"Wake up!" Dasha barked like a drill sergeant, momentarily forgetting that girls usually don't speak in such a deep bass. 

All four of them opened their eyes in unison, wide with terror, frantically trying to figure out what they were already late for or what they had missed this time. Slowly, it dawned on them that the nightmare was over, and they really, truly, finally had the right to relax. 

A collective groan rose in protest as they started whining, berating Dasha for waking them so mercilessly and inhumanely. Like zombies, they trudged toward the kitchen, hurling every curse imaginable at their friend, their eyes still closed. They followed the smell of coffee, which Dasha was already brewing for everyone. 

Immediately after Vadim's severe injury at the ski resort, the parents of all five friends made a collective decision to purchase a large, comfortable apartment for the group. 

The idea was that they would all be under one another's watchful eyes and could take care of each other. It was more convenient and much safer this way. 

The apartment featured three spacious bedrooms, a large shared living room, and a roomy kitchen-dining area. Each bedroom and the area adjacent to the kitchen had its own toilet and shower, while the communal living room boasted a comfortable, oversized bathtub. Instead of a balcony, there was an insulated and spacious loggia, which could easily double as a guest room. Technically, there were five rooms, including the loggia and excluding the kitchen, so in theory, everyone could have their own private space if needed. 

Naturally, the proximity to the university was a primary factor in choosing the apartment, though that didn't help them manage to be on time for classes even once. 

Technically speaking, Dasha and Artem shared one bedroom, Anya and Vadim the second, and Max, as the lone wolf, occupied the third. At least, that's how the parents envisioned it. In reality, Max's room and the loggia were often commandeered by whoever was lucky enough to claim them for fleeting romantic rendezvous, while the rest of them slept wherever they happened to be struck by the god of sleep—Morpheus. 

"Reminder!" Dasha declared in a commanding tone once again. 

The group immediately snapped to attention, wide-eyed and all ears. Their brains, long overloaded with the chaos of student life, had no capacity left for trivial details, making it ridiculously easy to forget anything. 

"In half an hour, our parents will be here. All of them!" she concluded. 

Even if thunder hadn't actually struck, each of them distinctly heard it rumbling in their minds. 

One of the most remarkable skills that all students develop is the ability to transform and reinvent themselves in an instant. Just 10–15 minutes, and from the depths of unimaginable chaos, like a phoenix rising from the ashes, emerges something capable of dazzling, seducing, and delighting the eye. This skill, without fail, blooms in every student, regardless of age or gender. 

"Does everyone remember who lives where?" Dasha sternly asked the now-transformed quintet of stunning beauties and dashing charmers, emphasizing a crucial component of parental supervision. 

Belongings seemed to take flight, scattering to their rightful places across the apartment as the roles were swiftly sorted: 

"I'm with you," Anya said tentatively to Artem. 

"No, you're with me!" Vadim reminded her firmly. 

"Artem's with me," Dasha declared with a bored expression, still not fully awake. 

"Are you sure?" Artem asked, looking around in confusion. 

"What about me?" Max inquired, his eyes brimming with alarm. 

A heavy silence fell over the room. Nobody could recall his role in this intricate charade quickly enough. 

"One, two, three, four, five!" Anya counted their heads aloud. "There are five of us, and we've sorted out two pairs. But there should be six persons to make two per room! Did we forget someone again?" she cried out in a panic. 

A few months ago, they had already forgotten a guy on the balcony—someone Dasha had met—and left for their respective homes for the entire New Year's holidays, locking him inside by mistake. Fortunately, there was always plenty of food in the house. Dasha still regretted that things didn't work out between them because of that incident—the guy still flinched whenever he saw her. 

When they had all returned home together back then, they initially thought there was a burglar in the apartment. What stopped them from unleashing their wrath was the odd detail that the "burglar" was wearing nothing but underwear and clutching a sausage. They often wondered if his stuttering occurred only around Dasha or had become a permanent feature. 

The group swirled through the house like a whirlwind, checking every possible—and impossible—nook and cranny. The only place they didn't dare look was the refrigerator; they had long been wary of it, as old food might have evolved into a life form of its own. 

Perplexed, they regrouped in the kitchen, until suddenly Vadim exclaimed: 

"I've got it!" 

He paused for dramatic effect, piecing together the parental arrangement in his mind, then declared, "Max lives alone!" 

"Alone?" Max retorted indignantly. 

"Well, yeah!" Vadim explained sheepishly. "Technically." 

"Ohhh, right…" The others collectively sighed in relief, their tension dissipating. 

"Cleaning!" Anya suddenly shouted, jumping slightly as the realization hit her. 

All five of them raced for mops and rags, competing to clean the house and make it look presentable. They sprayed air freshener liberally, flung open the curtains, and cracked the windows for ventilation. In just five minutes, the entire group was seated on the living room sofas, adopting a leisurely posture as if they had been waiting for hours, exuding an air of boredom. Yet, when the doorbell rang, they all flinched as if hit by an electric shock—or worse, the sound of a dentist's drill. 

A cheerful cacophony of voices filled the house as the parents, brimming with excitement to see their children, poured in. At the forefront was Mom Tanya, squeezing Dasha tightly before making her way to Artem. Close behind was Nina with her second husband, Oleg—a figure who had nearly sparked a feud between Nina and Vadim during the summer break after their first year. Over the years, Oleg had grown so fond of the boys that every Friday he would bring them enormous bags of food from home. These care packages were meticulously packed with sausages, grains, pasta, various meats, favorite nuts and fruits for the girls, and seafood for Max—something for everyone, tailored to their tastes and meant to last. 

Following these two were Dasha's and Anya's mothers, and bringing up the rear was Max's father—a dignified and imposing figure at first glance, but upon closer inspection, as playful and mischievous as his son, and an equally devoted parent. 

"My loves! My darlings! Beauty! Genius! My treasures!" The parents' boundless affection spilled over as they showered their children with compliments and hugs. 

The grown men quickly moved the tables together, and in no time, they were laden with dishes of still-warm food. The parents had brought an array of pots, pans, and trays wrapped in towels to keep everything hot. Plates and utensils were laid out, glasses filled, and the atmosphere blossomed into the start of a genuine feast. 

"Well, today we'll just have a little snack!" Nina announced cheerfully, standing by a table that was barely managing to bear the weight of the feast. "And tomorrow we'll celebrate properly!" 

"Tomorrow?" Dasha asked, her voice tinged with fear. 

"Properly?" Artem exclaimed, his eyes widening as they darted over the table, where there wasn't even enough space left for a toothpick. 

The children sat there, horrified, trying to digest what they'd just heard. One day with the parents was already too much to endure. But two? And they'd have to eat all this? 

"Of course!" Tanya replied confidently. 

"Oh, don't be scared!" Dasha's mom said with a reassuring smile. "We'll manage here just fine without you. All you need to do is finish all of this and hand over your diplomas." 

"Exactly!" Max's father chimed in. "Then you can go off and enjoy yourselves, wherever you like. To a nightclub or wherever it is you kids go these days." 

"Tonight, the girls will sleep in one room, and the boys will stay together at Max's," Dasha's mom explained, turning to the children. "We'll set up a cot for you there. The rest of us will spread out in the other rooms. And tomorrow we'll leave!" she assured them. "In the evening." 

"This is our rightful celebration!" Anna's mom declared, punctuating her words by slapping the corner of the table three times in rhythm. "You have no right to deprive us of it!" 

"Exactly!" Max's father agreed. "Well said!" he added, raising his wine glass in her honor. "You've been doing who-knows-what for years here; you can tolerate us for a couple of days. To our children!" he proclaimed, toasting. 

The parents clinked glasses and enthusiastically began their own celebration, paying no attention to the perpetually disgruntled kids. 

"It's a bit crowded here now," Oleg addressed the children. "Grab some food and go get ready for the graduation ceremony. We'll chat here without you for a while. You're not interested in old folks' talk anyway." 

"Yes, yes!" the other parents chimed in unanimously.