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The house next to yours had always been empty, until one day, a new family moved in. Your parents, naturally being curious, spoke to the new neighbours and found out that they had just moved in from Russia and had one son.
Their son was named Ivan. He was a tall and brooding character, very much unlike his cheerful, smiling parents. Blond hair, pale skin, a large body; his somber expression made him look like a ghost.
Only a few days after they moved, your family started hearing shouting and yelling from their house. You were disturbed by it and even more so when you, one day caught a glimpse of Ivan slamming the door of his room close and with an anguished face, going towards the right to do something. Your window faced his window so you could see everything whenever his curtains were open.
You didn't mean to be nosy by looking into his room and at him, but you definitely felt concerned for him. Sometimes he wouldn't even sleep at night; you knew by seeing the faint glow of his computer screen peering through the drawn curtains in his dark room.
Both of you had the same bus to the same school at the same stop, and also a few same classes but he never spoke a word to you. His long mop of blond hair nearly covered his tired, sleep-deprived eyes.
With each and every passing day, your concern for him would grow greater and greater. But you had no way to express it. Every time you would try to talk to him, he would snap at you and push you away. You were hurt by the way he treated you, but you didn't stop trying.
It wasn't until he nearly fainted one day that he was forced to speak rather decently to you.
It was a day after school and you were held back a little late because you got a lecture from your Math teacher, Mr. Zimmerman for your low grades. Ivan also happened to be there in front of his homeroom teacher, Mrs. Lancaster, who was shaking her head, expressing her concerns about his poor grades in English to the emotionless Ivan.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Lancaster, I'll study hard for the next test," he spoke in a thick accent.
"That's what you say every time, Ivan. But I think you might need someone to tutor you. Your grades in math are good, but you seem to be having trouble with English," Mrs. Lancaster mused quietly.
You saw Ivan cringe at the mention of a tutor.
"Mr. Zimmerman, how does ______ do in English?" she turned to your homeroom teacher.
"She has excellent grades," he returned, "She doesn't do very well with math though,"
Both you and Ivan knew where this was going.
"How do you think you both tutor each other? What do you think, Mr. Zimmerman?"
"I think it's a good idea. Ivan seems to do very well in math,"
