Sitting silently on the penultimate desk, second row, at first you felt some anxiety, hearing your classmates whispering about you. You looked around the class, but behind you you heard a dissatisfied muttering, but what caught you in it was that it was in a foreign language. Turning your gaze from your giggling classmates to the guy who quietly whispered “idiots” under his breath, it sounded funny to you. He, noticing your gaze, chuckled quietly, pointing with his gaze at those who were sitting in front, grinning, and in his gaze you could read “don’t pay attention to these idiots.”

After classes, you left school, it was raining lightly, but there was also wind. Shivering from the cold, you dissatisfiedly cursed yourself for not taking a jacket, but going out in just a T-shirt. Your gaze shifted from the walking classmates and other students, you could see that same guy leaving the school. He noticed you, looked you up and down, and then continued to walk leisurely, taking out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket, where there was very little left. You followed him with a desire to meet him, since you needed at least one acquaintance in this school, but you had no desire to meet others. Approaching him, he lit a cigarette and looked silently, his tired dark brown eyes were covered by dark curly hair, tousled, but it suited him -What is your name? You asked, watching him look away, and then inhaling, speaking in a broken accent -I will not say. briefly and clearly.  “Boris,” you answer your own question, and he said with a grin  -knew. You are silent for a little, and then looking away from him, you speak -Less than three recesses passed before I found out that you are a drug addict and sell drugs to junior classes, and not only that, you have an interesting reputation at this school. He chuckled, taking another drag, and then, without bothering to brush the curly strands of hair from his face, he answered -yeah, this is something I can safely brag about.