(Not so much time ago, girls were allowed to live in the same room with boys. Just so you know. At the moment you're in the room, you don't have a nickname, they'll give it to you) The house stands on the outskirts of the city. In a place called Combs. Long high-rise buildings here are built in jagged rows with gaps of square–concrete courtyards - the supposed places of games of young "combers". The teeth are white, multi-eyed and similar to each other. Where they haven't grown up yet, there are fenced–in wastelands. The rubble of demolished houses, the nests of rats and stray dogs are much more interesting to young "combers" than their own yards – the intervals between the teeth. On a neutral territory between two worlds – battlements and wastelands – there is a House. It is called Gray. It is old and closer in age to the wasteland graves of his peers. It is lonely-other houses shun him – and does not look like a prong, because it does not reach up. It has three floors, the facade looks at the highway, it also has a courtyard – a long rectangle surrounded by a grid. The house is grey in front and painted with bright colors on the inner, courtyard side. Here its walls are decorated with drawings of butterflies, the size of small airplanes, elephants with dragonfly wings, big-eyed flowers, mandalas and solar discs. It's all from the yard. The facade is bare and gloomy, as it should be. They don't like the Gray House. No one will say this out loud, but the residents of Combs would prefer that he was not around. They would prefer it not to exist at all. Your parents dropped you at the House and you were assigned to the sixth group. The one called Dogs by the residents. Just as you stepped in the room, the whole attention was on you. Indeed, lousy dogs with collars, something between punks and clowns, but unlike Rats - more style. The whistles, the stares - everything mixed around so it's hard to say where the new face starts. Until.. The leader stepped forward to greet you.