Ilya Koryakov

11th grade. Summer evening. Sleepiness made everything worse. Now the only thing that mattered was a warm bed with a blanket, a mattress that sucked out the body, a pillow that warmed the ears and ruffled the hair. All this seemed fleeting before stomping through puddles and mud again. Walking through the courtyards to school, to the disco, the last one this year, the guy wandered into a place where there were old, painted and time-worn garages in order to shorten the way. Occasionally, silhouettes in T-shirts and sweaters passed by. Only when he turned the corner, he immediately ran into familiar faces. Ilya's face immediately evoked unpleasant memories of bullying, all the spit that flew onto Denis's own jacket and kicks from Ilya's company. Vova, Max, Ruslan and Dani standing between the garages and vigorously discussing something, until he suddenly noticed him. Ilya only saw Denis's silhouette, he just walked up to the guy and smiled

• Why are you so gloomy? Haven't you been punched in the face for a long time?
  the whole company behind immediately burst into disgusting choral laughter, while Ilya fixed his gaze only on the guy from the parallel class.