Professor Cominetti, a frail woman in her thirties with short blond hair and a sunny expression, took the file from the hands of her colleague who sat next to her, and after setting it down on the table, she quietly leafed through it.

The boy sitting on the opposite bank of the cabinet, more than three meters away from the teachers, was a broad-shouldered 17-year-old with an imposing physique, dressed in simple jeans and a heavy sweatshirt fitted with a hood.

He might never have been considered worthy of appearing on the cover of a fashion magazine, but his face was still well-proportioned enough to be judged attractive.

Or at least, it could have been, if only a conspicuous and aggressive rosacea had not irreparably disfigured much of his face.

Covered in pustules, scars, and garish reddish patches now endemic, his skin was pitted to the point that it had become difficult to even imagine what that face might have looked like had it been free of such scarring.

In any case, despite how unpleasant it might have seemed, none of the professors in front of him seemed to be too impressed. As this was already the seventh year he had been attending that school, and the fifth since the first symptoms had manifested, over time they had come to get used to it.

''So Alessandro,'' Cominetti began, looking up from the file. ''Here we have your end-of-quarter report card.''

Alessandro swallowed anxiously as he tried unsuccessfully to sink into the hard plastic-backed chair.

''Don't worry, it all went pretty well,'' she reassured him, returning her focus to the file. ''Let's start with the good part. You got eight in literature, nine in geography, nine in religion.''

A smirk surfaced on her lips.

''Ten in history, and ten in English. The only one in the whole class. Very, very good.

A shadow suddenly fell over his face, blurring his affable expression.

''Now, however, we must move on to the rest, which is...''

''A disaster,'' Professor Ronzini anticipated her.

Cornered by the scornful glare with which the math teacher accompanied his own statement, Alessandro immediately broke eye contact by lowering his head.

With his perpetually frowning frown and piercing gaze concealed behind the lenses of his glasses, Ronzini always managed to make him feel terribly uncomfortable.

Fortunately for him, Cominetti seemed to understand the embarrassment he was feeling and was not slow to come to his rescue.

''Angelo don't exaggerate, it's...''

He twisted his mouth, as if struggling to find the right words with which to continue.

''Let's say you could have done better, here,'' he concluded in an all too diplomatic tone. ''You got seven in physical education, six in philosophy, five in biology, five in physics, five in technical drawing....''

He let a short sigh escape.

''And four in math.''

''Don't let it go to your head, the four is only because I can't give zero,'' Ronzini interjected.

The way he said it, icy and scratchy at the same time, greatly heightened the nervousness of Alessandro, who for once did not regret the explosive rosacea that permanently inflamed his cheeks, because otherwise it would have been even more noticeable.

"Angelo, please!" blurted Cominetti.

Ascertaining that Ronzini did not intend to retort, she looked away from her colleague and intertwined her fingers on the file.

''It is true, though, that there are serious shortcomings,'' he reluctantly admitted. ''More needs to be done.''

''I try,'' Alessandro said weakly, forcing himself to raise his head slightly. ''But I can't quite remember the concepts.''

''It's not a question of memory, you don't lack that,'' retorted Cominetti in a practical tone. ''This is about understanding and applying theory, but from what I've been told you seem to lack the necessary foundation to do so.''

Taking advantage of the brief pause that followed, Professor Colombo, a lady now nearing retirement with a face Marcoed by an intricate web of wrinkles, decided to intervene.

''Simply put, it sounds like you spent the last three years sleeping through math class,'' she began quietly, ''but since you didn't, it means you weren't listening.''

''I was listening,'' Alessandro protested.

Columbus raised an eyebrow.

"But you didn't understand, right?

Alessandro lowered his gaze.

''Sometimes,'' he admitted in a small voice.

''I would love to know what those times are,'' commented Ronzini acidly, adjusting his round glasses on his nose. ''There has not been a single test since you started high school that has gone well. The highest grade you ever got with me is...''

He took a quick look at the file.

''Five,'' he concluded dryly, before repeating that number with ostentatious disdain. ''Five. And it is almost certainly a grade that in order to give you I had to do violence to myself.''

''Even though you failed the remedial exam the board still decided to let you enter the next year by virtue of your overall average,'' Cominetti reminded him, exhibiting a sad expression. ''However, if you end the last quarter with another failing grade in math I'm afraid we won't be able to be so generous anymore. And in case you then fail to catch up with the other subjects you will be flunked.''

The prospect sent an icy chill down Alessandro's spine. Noticing his reaction, Cominetti softened her tone slightly, but this time she did not look away.

''I'm sorry to be blunt, but that's how it is.''

Alessandro nodded.

''All right,'' he said obediently. ''Then I will try to try harder.''

''It is very important that you succeed,'' she confirmed in a firm voice. ''Have you thought about taking private tutoring?''

A shadow fell over Alessandro's face.

''Well, here's...'' He lowered his eyes. ''I'll talk to my parents about it,'' he promised almost in a whisper.

''I think in this case it would be advisable for you to get someone to help you,'' Cominetti insisted. ''As for physics and technical drawing, on the other hand...''

He suddenly muttered and turned his gaze in the direction of Colombo, who before taking the floor passed the file to himself.

''Last years your average in physics and biology was not particularly disastrous,'' the elderly teacher recalled, absentmindedly scrolling through the pages of the document. ''I am convinced that this was simply a difficult period, so...''

He looked up from the text and tapped on the table with his index finger.

''Review, review, review''

''Okay,'' Alessandro confirmed by nodding.

Professor Serra tucked a lock of her short black hair back behind her ear, while meanwhile continuing to fiddle with the pen she held in her free hand.

''With drawing I think the main problem is the lack of interest,'' he continued with veiled impatience, before pressing the pen's click mechanism in quick succession. ''From what I have seen so far, I gather that your ambition is not to be an architect or surveyor, is it?''

''No, I don't think so,'' Alessandro admitted, shaking his head.

''In any case, try to turn this five into a six, all right?" she said, shooting him an eloquent look.

Alessandro nodded again.

''All right''

Cominetti peeked out of the corner of her eye toward both sides of the table, but since none of the other council members seemed intent on making further reMarcos, she closed the file, and leaning forward returned her focus to him.

''Alessandro, have you already decided what you want to do after high school?" she asked him gently.

''I don't know yet,'' he confessed. ''I have to think about it.''

Ronzini curved his lips into a mocking smile.

''If you wait a little longer...''

''Have you considered a degree in history?" the Cominetti proposed to him, ignoring his colleague.

''Yes, however...'' He scratched the back of his head nervously. ''What can you do with a history degree besides history teacher?" he asked cautiously.

Caught off guard by the question at first, the professor merely maintained eye contact without saying anything, but after a short pause of a few seconds she finally managed to break the silence.

''The historian,'' he replied simply.

Alessandro inclined his head in a single nod of assent.

''I'll think about it,'' he promised politely.

''Of course,'' Cominetti said, addressing him with a warm smile. ''All right, I'd say that's it, you can go now.''

''Thank you''

He got up from his chair, and greeting the teachers with a nod, began to head in the direction of the exit, however, before he had even managed to reach the door, Cominetti's voice rang out behind him.

''Ah, one last thing.''

Alessandro immediately turned around and crossed his eyes again with the history teacher.

The smile on his face seemed to have grown even wider.

''You got an A in conduct,'' she informed him with obvious satisfaction. ''Keep it up.''

''Thank you,'' Alessandro replied, bowing his head.

And without adding anything else he left the room.