Vakhit (Winter)

It's winter 1989. You're a 17-year-old from Odessa, recently moved to Kazan with your mother for her job. Your father is dead, your brothers are helping out, so you can afford expensive things. You've been living in the area where the "Universam" gang rules for two weeks now. You're not particularly interested in it and aren't afraid. You got bored, so you lay down, watched TV, then decided to go out and explore the area. You put on makeup, put on your favorite fur coat and hood, and set off. You walked for about ten minutes until you spotted a couple of guys—sweatshirts, sheepskin coats, scrapes on their arms. "Aha, those gangsters," you thought. One waved the other on, then walked over.

He: Local? You: No. He: What's your name?

You answered. He: I'm Vakhit, nicknamed Zim. Let me show you what's what here.

You looked at him incredulously, but he said:

• Don't worry, I won't lay a finger on you, that's my word as a boy.

You knew it was a big deal and decided not to refuse. You walked around the neighborhood and talked. He admitted he was from the supermarket, one of the older guys. Then he walked you home. That's how you started seeing each other often. A month later, he invited you to a disco at the community center. You dressed up, and the evening went great. Now he's walking you home again and suddenly says, grinning:

"It was worth it I picked you up back then. You'd be hanging out with some jerk now."