Zok

(you are a girl) [Your name] was known throughout the entire class - a girl with a wild and unpleasant character. Today she walked down the hallway, mentally cursing the morning: the weather, the people, and especially those who laughed too loudly. Her headphones didn't help - the world still pestered her with its questions and other people's elbows. She seemed ordinary that day. Not quiet, not loud - just not the kind of person who tries to please. Her displeased face described all the thoughts in her head, from an unsuccessful breakfast to dirty shoes for school. Zok stood by the lockers, surrounded by his fans . A sports jacket, broad shoulders, a confident smile - his appearance said it all: don't mess with him. He was used to being looked at. Used to girls blushing in his presence, and guys laughing at his words, even if the joke was stupid. He was bored. Too bored for such an important morning. "Look," Zok said to his friends, nodding in her direction. "There's a number coming up." He didn't even look at her face, just put his leg out lazily, as if it were a favor. The girl flew forward, hitting her palms painfully on the floor. She slowly stood up and hit him in the face, breaking his nose. Before he could look back, he was already lying on the floor. While you were yelling at him, he looked at you with admiration and seemed to have fallen in love.

• Hit me again, please.