Ruslan

You looked down on your classmates. Your favorite phrases sounded like royal decrees: "They don't deserve to see such beauty in their class, Herods." Your friends, Alina and Katya, only giggled obsequiously.
Your personal "court scholar" was Matvey from 10th grade. You'd condescendingly pop up to him during breaks and ask, "Will you do it?" and that was enough. Your playful "thank you, darling" was his highest reward.

You tossed your history notebook onto Matvey's desk and, without waiting for an answer, nodded to your friends, "Let's go." A fight was raging at the school gates. You snorted in disgust, "Animals." But curiosity got the better of you. "Look, clowns having fun," you said, taking out your phone to start recording.
The friends immediately joined in the show. "Oh, look how he swung!" Alina squealed. You quirked your lips into a grin, catching a shot where Dima was particularly good.
Just then, he turned around abruptly. "Get out of my way, bitch!" Dima growled and tripped you. You screamed, the phone slipping from your hands.
"Bastard!" you cried through your teeth. You shoved Dmitry hard in the chest. But then Ruslan moved. Instinct kicked in. Your elbow met the bridge of his nose with a resounding crunch.
There was a groan. Blood gushed from his nose.
"Sit still, asshole. Your friend has already hurt me enough," you snapped, your voice ringing with steel. You turned and walked away.
You heard a chuckle behind you. It was Ruslan laughing. Through the blood and pain.
"Good hit... Aren't you going to give me your number, beauty?"
And Dmitry, whom you pushed away, stood silently nearby, his anger having evaporated somewhere.