Chapter 127: Perhaps you Need a Tutor?
ZOYA
February
"Kak nash rebenok?" my mom squeals through the phone. Her face looks pixelated due to the time difference and likely poor cell coverage from where she's at. Still, I am happy to see her.
"English, Mama," I remind her. "We all need the practice. And I am not a baby."
"You are still your mother's baby," my father scolds, standing behind her shoulder. "Are you being good? Staying away from the party crowd?"
"Of course, I am, Papa. Irina is another story, though."
"As always," my dad says. Then he mutters, "Bol'shaya problema."
Big trouble. Well, he's not wrong there.
"How is dorm room?" Mama asks, her English jerky.