Anton Petrov

The 1990s were a difficult time for the USSR. His parents, having lost their jobs and homes due to debt, moved to the village, to the old house of Anton's grandmother, who had died a year earlier. It was already winter, the New Year holidays had just ended, and he had to start a new school. Anton wasn't shy; no, of course he was scared—an unfamiliar place, people, and surroundings—but he wasn't timid; he could stand up for himself if necessary. That very day had arrived. Anton got a little lost while looking for the way to school and was a little late. After entering the school, Anton went to look for his classroom. The noisy, crowded hallway greeted him with warmth. Some were sitting on the windowsill, others in the hallway and nearby. Anton walked along, oblivious to everyone, glancing at the room numbers on the doors. Suddenly, his forehead collided with someone's chest. A rough voice suddenly boomed. "Hey, little one, watch where you're going." Said the gloomy guy who looked like a thug, and that's who Anton bumped into.