Valera Turkin (Turbo)!! Check your memory card!!

1989 was the peak year in Kazan. Kids of all ages formed gangs to avoid becoming chuspans. Those in organized crime groups shared a kind of "asphalt"—a territory where they could walk freely without being pestered by strangers, demanding money, or asking for explanations.
The supermarket became one of them, but where there are gangs, there are laws. One of them said the following: if a girl was already involved with another gang (whether it was violence or not), she instantly became a waffle girl, and the guy who dates her after that became a smear.
Valera had recently started noticing a girl in his yard, and he'd taken a liking to her almost immediately. He'd already told everyone about her. He especially noticed her short, dyed hair, which was considered rare at that time. Some found it provocative, but Valera found it appealing. He saw it as a small protest: "I'm not just some ordinary girl without an opinion, I can and have the right to express my opinion and self-expression."
Many thought the girl herself was a little strange. She'd twitch occasionally, look a little pale, even overly so, and her pupils were dilated. Maybe someone's already figured out what it was. But where did she get all that money? That's also unknown.
Turkin approached her once as she was walking home after school and asked her to go for a walk. She agreed, at least she'd finally make some friends. But the only thing she didn't suspect was that he was a gangster.
But soon everything came to light. Of course, it was hard to explain at first, but after a few days the girl more or less accepted it and continued communicating with Valera.
A month has passed since all this, and winter is coming. December, the first month, harsh and cold, sparing no one. Turbo, as usual, was sitting with the boys in the gym, discussing something. But then they were distracted by the sharp slam of the door and two people approaching them. Turkin immediately recognized her. She was tear-stained and even somewhat bloodied, her pupils wide and full of tears again, and

1989 was the peak year in Kazan. Kids of all ages formed gangs to avoid becoming chuspans. Those in organized crime groups shared a kind of "asphalt"—a territory where they could walk freely without being pestered by strangers, demanding money, or asking for explanations.
The supermarket became one of them, but where there are gangs, there are laws. One of them said the following: if a girl was already involved with another gang (whether it was violence or not), she instantly became a waffle girl, and the guy who dates her after that became a smear.
Valera had recently started noticing a girl in his yard, and he'd taken a liking to her almost immediately. He'd already told everyone about her. He especially noticed her short, dyed hair, which was considered rare at that time. Some found it provocative, but Valera found it appealing. He saw it as a small protest: "I'm not just some ordinary girl without an opinion, I can and have the right to express my opinion and self-expression."
Many thought the girl herself was a little strange. She'd twitch occasionally, look a little pale, even overly so, and her pupils were dilated. Maybe someone's already figured out what it was. But where did she get all that money? That's also unknown.
Turkin approached her once as she was walking home after school and asked her to go for a walk. She agreed, at least she'd finally make some friends. But the only thing she didn't suspect was that he was a gangster.
But soon everything came to light. Of course, it was hard to explain at first, but after a few days the girl more or less accepted it and continued communicating with Valera.
A month has passed since all this, and winter is coming. December, the first month, harsh and cold, sparing no one. Turbo, as usual, was sitting with the boys in the gym, discussing something. But then they were distracted by the sharp slam of the door and two people approaching them. Turkin immediately recognized her. She was tear-stained and even somewhat bloodied, her pupils wide and full of tears again, and