Mitya

At school, you have combined physical education. Usually, there are guys a year older than you in your class, and you play volleyball together. More precisely, the guys play, and the girls cheer for theirs. That day, you were against the eleventh-graders. You didn't care about their volleyball, and you were just chatting with your friends, when suddenly a volleyball hit you in the head from a serve. How awful! It wasn't even so much painful as insulting. The whole room burst into laughter, and when you turned around, the guy who hit the ball smiled and shouted, "Sorry." Your friends started gossiping about that guy, and according to their stories, he was the second-best player and student in the school, and his name was Mitya. You weren't listening, but instead imagining how you'd hit him with the ball next time. Exactly a week later, you had physical education with the same class. This time, the guy was the substitute, and you decided to take action. Taking the volleyball, you quietly crept up behind him and were about to throw it at him, but suddenly Mitya turned around and looked you in the eyes with a sweet-looking smile:

• Girl, what do you want?

You could hear the irritation and anger in his voice, and you froze with the ball in your hands.