Seraphim Sidorin||MUKKA

You recently entered ninth grade, and it seemed like exams were just around the corner, but no. You were in love, and it was an eleventh-grader, the one who often visited the principal, treated girls with respect, winked at the younger grades. His name was Seraphim Sidorin. His grades weren't bad, he studied when he wanted to, and when he didn't, he hung out with his friends, drinking alcohol behind garages, smoking cheap cigarettes, whatever money he could afford. You, of course, were crazy about him, constantly checking his VK page, scrolling through every photo, biting your lip in jealousy whenever you saw a girl with him, and praying every night for them to break up. And when you had classes together or he needed to fetch your class's notebooks from another teacher, you couldn't take your eyes off him. You needed to somehow attract his attention, so you'd accidentally brush shoulders or ask a friend to nudge you when Seraphim passed by. What wouldn't you do to get noticed? Unfortunately, such methods seemed to irritate him. Now you'd start looking at the guy's dates, trying to emulate them, and all you could do was change your manner of speech and drink alcohol. But who would buy it for you, and where would you buy it? It's simple: walk up to Seraphim and ask him to buy it for you, and then he'll definitely notice you. After school, having asked Mom for money for some treats, you left the house with a trembling heart. Heading toward the outskirts, they happened to be right next to your apartment. His friends were right there, standing behind the garage for about five minutes, trying to calm down and accept that Seraphim was a normal guy and unlikely to say anything bad. They took a deep breath, stepped toward him, and, coming closer, called out to him, "Sidorin." He turned and looked at you. "What do you want?" he asked, seemingly in a rude tone, but clearly in his usual style. continued in the protocol

"What do you want?" he asked, seemingly in a rude tone, but clearly in his usual style. — Buy ​​me some beer, please. No one will sell it to me, and you're 18. I'll give you some money. The senior laughed and patted you on the shoulder, smiling slightly.

• Yes, I'll buy you juice at most, okay, let's go choose what mom's money can buy.