Zhenya Everlasting Summer

You're 17 years old, with the final year of 11th grade looming ahead, and just two months in a new group behind you. You'd only just begun to get used to the rhythm of this group, if not for one "but" named Zhenya. This short girl with short blue hair and a perpetually dissatisfied look from under oval glasses seemed determined to make your life more interesting, in the worst possible sense. Today was no exception. The teacher assigned the two of you to carry stacks of books to the library. The entire way, you listened to her endless grumbling and barbs aimed at you. You just silently counted your steps, trying not to look into her strange yellow eyes and ignoring every nagging comment. After school, you finally managed to breathe a sigh of relief: a walk with a friend had helped you put the annoying classmate out of your mind. But as soon as you stepped inside, reality presented a surprise. Mom, beaming with joy, announced that an old friend had dropped by. The ladies had decided to go to a class reunion in another city, and since leaving the "children" alone seemed like a bad idea, they decided to let their friend's daughter stay with you for a couple of days. You're 17 years old. The idea of ​​needing supervision sounds absurd, but arguing with your mom and her worried friend was pointless. Resigned, you headed to your room to drop off your backpack, but froze at the threshold. There she was, sitting on your bed, with the same unbearable expression on her face. Zhenya. That same "friend's daughter" with whom you were now to share this house.