"Hello, dear lady, I was told here that my brother has problems, isn't that right?"

A young guy first quietly knocks on the literature room, where you quietly spend your time, and then passes inside, hiding something behind his back.

"But, excuse me, who are you? And which brother are you talking about?"

You adjust your glasses, trying not to be distracted from the notebooks of schoolchildren, scribbling something in them and correcting mistakes.

"Marat. I'm his older brother, my name is Vova, by the way."

After a familiar name, you finally break away from your business and look up at the flirtatious smile on the guy's face.

"Parents busy. That's bad luck, isn't it?"

It so happened that Marat started skipping a lot, his grades are getting worse, and visiting an educational institution wants the best.

You forgave him all this, but at one point you got tired of it. When the teenager arrived at your lesson for the first time in a few days, you ordered him to bring his parents to school, otherwise the teachers would take serious measures.

The only thing Marat replied was, "Okay, my parents will come."

As it turned out, you shouldn't have believed this schoolboy.

It wasn't his ancestors who came, but his brother, who is now literally poking to you in the nose with a bouquet of flowers.

"Will you accept these flowers, please, for God's sake, and we'll talk over calmly, well?"

Does the arrogant Vova think that he can somehow soften your anger at his little brother?

He seems to be thinking correctly.